by M. Leighton
As though he’d read my mind, Dane leaned up once to grab his cup of beer, which was sitting on the edge of the spa. When he relaxed back, he was a little bit closer to me. His arm along the back of the tub brought his hand to within a couple of inches of my shoulder, and his presence just seemed…bigger. Quickly, I glanced up at his face. He was watching me.
Hungrily.
Just like I was watching him.
His move only made me need his closeness even more, and the alcohol had made me a bit brave. Without giving it a second thought, I leaned up to grab Chad’s cup.
I took a sip and glanced back over my shoulder at Chad. I smiled. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“God, no! Drink as much as you want.”
I knew that would be his answer. He wanted me drunk. But me? I only wanted nearer to Dane.
My pulse tripped up a notch as I returned to a spot slightly left of where I’d been. To my left was where Dane was, everything I wanted. Having him this close was tempting beyond that which I could resist. I had to get closer still. I had to touch him. Even if it was just a brush, I had to. It felt as necessary as breathing.
Slowly, painstakingly slowly, I inched a tiny bit closer to Dane. Then I saw the muscles in his shoulder shift as he edged toward me. Centimeters that felt like miles.
I breathed more rapidly, laughed more robustly. I was giddy with the danger of what we were doing, and with the undeniable effect Dane James had on me.
Chad and Lauren seemed to follow, like they gravitated toward us, and we toward each other. For once I didn’t mind, though. I didn’t care about my right side, only my left. My entire being was focused on what lay on the side of my heart, and how I was gradually getting near enough to touch.
I sipped Chad’s beer, pretended to participate, and beneath the bubbles, I finally felt my knee brush against Dane’s. A bolt of sensual lightning skittered through me and I swallowed a gasp along with the cooling night air.
He pressed his leg toward me; I shifted mine against his. The rasp of hair over my silky skin echoed through my body like he was touching me everywhere at once. I set my hand down, below the surface, and braced against the seat and moved a little closer.
Seconds later, Dane dropped his hand as well, and I felt it glide along mine. His fingers found mine, first his pinky and then the rest of them, and he stroked them, toyed with them, touched them as I longed to touch him. And as I longed for him to touch me elsewhere.
My belly was heavy with want and I nearly moaned when Dane flipped my hand over and began to rub my palm with his thumb. The pressure was stunningly delicious and as innocent as a caress could be.
Drunk with the desire for more of him and emboldened by the alcohol buzzing in my head, I inched closer still, until I felt Dane’s hand along the side of my leg. Our moving fingers grazed my skin and electricity shot up the inside of my thigh. I’d never wanted anything more than I wanted for Dane James to stand up, ignore everyone else in the whole town, pick me up, and carry me to a bed.
The impulse to do something drastic was almost more than I could bear.
I let my mind wander to that scenario. I felt myself being lifted in his strong arms, held against his muscular chest, then lowered onto a feather-soft bed. I felt his long fingers peel away my wet suit. I felt his cool lips press passionately to mine. I felt his weight settle between my legs, his languid movements creating friction right where I craved it most.
But then, like someone threw a cold pitcher of beer in my face, I felt the touch of another hand. It came to rest on my thigh and slipped inward, to a place that I only ever wanted Dane James to know.
I stood up so suddenly, water sloshed over the edges of the tub and everyone reached for their drinks. “Sorry. I think I’m done, though. It’s so hot it’s making my head swim.”
I swayed for effect, and pretended that I couldn’t feel Dane’s eyes on my face, my breasts, my stomach where I stood only inches from his hands and his mouth. If only things were different. If only he wasn’t forbidden, or we were alone. I would sit down on his lap, wrap my arms around his neck, and I’d vow never to let go.
But things weren’t different. And we weren’t alone. So with a quick glance in his direction, I announced, “I’m going to get dressed.” Over my shoulder to Chad, I said, “I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
With that, I climbed out of the tub and made my way to Angel’s room. On shaky legs and with trembling fingers, I grabbed my clothes and headed to the bathroom nearest the kitchen to shed my wet suit.
Once I dressed, I turned on the water at the sink and let the frigid stream pour through my fingers. I splashed a few handfuls onto my face. I wasn’t sure if I needed to cool off or sober up, but I suspected that my inner turmoil, the warmth in my head, and the ache in my belly, had nothing to do with hot water and beer, and everything to do with a guy.
I knew it years ago, and I’m proving it now. Dane James is dangerous for me. And I’m helpless to resist him.
As much as I wanted to stay in the bathroom rather than fending off Chad’s advances on the way home, I knew I couldn’t. In fact, he could be right outside the door, waiting to ambush me.
Cautiously, I crept to the door, slowly turning the knob and easing it open to peek through the crack. When I saw no sign of Chad, I stepped out.
That’s when I saw him.
Not Chad.
Dane.
He was leaning against the wall beside the open pantry door, watching. Waiting.
I felt my face flush and my belly heat with pure pleasure. All that I’d been feeling in the hot tub came back with a rush, and I was suddenly overwhelmed with white-hot desire.
We stared at each other for a few seconds and then… I don’t even know what happened, how it happened. Before I knew it, my back was pressed against the inside of the closed pantry door and Dane was everywhere.
His fingers were weaving into my hair, his body was pressed tight to mine, his mouth was hovering less than an inch away. I couldn’t see him in the dark, but I could feel him. God, how I could feel him! I felt every warm puff of air fan my cheeks as he tried to control himself. His struggle was almost tangible. He trembled with it, and so did I.
It was intoxicating.
“Brinkley.”
That one word, that one whisper, so desperate, so pleading, was like gasoline to an already-raging inferno. I wanted him to kiss me. I needed it. He had to. My very existence seemed to hinge on it, like I might disintegrate if he didn’t press his lips, his body, his soul to mine and hold me together.
And then, like the answer to a prayer, Dane James crashed down on me, a beautiful, chaotic wave of want and need. His lips met mine in a collision that sealed our fate. This…this burning…this flame we couldn’t stay away from made it official. We could no longer resist. Whatever was between us had become like air or water.
Or fire.
Licking and blazing.
Consuming.
Or maybe it was like a drug, this thing between us. I’d seen documentaries about people doing crack for the first time, how it suddenly became an obsession—getting more, more, more. For the first time in my life, I knew how that felt. I knew how it felt to be addicted. And I knew how it felt to want something so badly you’d do almost anything, risk almost anything to have it. Just a little taste, a little touch. And from his kiss, the way he held me, the way he touched me, I knew Dane did, too. Even though this would go nowhere good, would go nowhere at all, we couldn’t stop it.
I had no idea how giving in to it would change things. Or maybe I did. Maybe I just didn’t care.
I lifted my arms and wrapped them around his broad, strong back, holding him close, close, closer. I couldn’t get close enough, not without ripping his clothes and climbing inside with him.
I moaned as his tongue slid along mine. I felt the heat of it, the rasp of it as though it was gliding over my nipples, slipping between my legs.
Like his solidness, I felt his kiss everywhe
re.
One long arm wound around my waist and lifted me, pressing me hard against the door. Dane’s thick thigh wedged between mine. The touch of it, the press of it, right there, was nearly more than I could take.
He moved his body along mine in a rhythm that I understood on some instinctive level, and I met him at the crest of each wave of it. Over and over, we crashed into one another, rubbing and sliding, skin alive, nerves on fire. My head was light with the need for oxygen, but I didn’t ask him to stop. I wanted him more than I wanted to breathe.
When Dane finally lifted his head, he was panting, too. Breathless. His voice was gruff when he confessed, “I’ve wanted to do that since before the game started.”
Some rational part of my brain came back online, but it was far away and the voice of it was weak. “W-we could get caught.”
Even I could hear the lack of concern in my own words. Dane James was the only thing I cared about, and I believed I was the only thing he cared about, too.
He didn’t even bother to answer. Not with words. He just bent his head to mine and pulled my bottom lip into his mouth, sucking gently until I opened to him again. Nothing after that really mattered. All of life had boiled down to a few stolen seconds in a friend’s pantry, just like it did when whenever we met at the rock. We were all that mattered when the moon was high and the night was young. Time was ours and ours alone, for just a little while. But this time, these seconds, were different. Nothing would be the same after this.
Nothing.
“Go straight home,” Dane whispered as he trailed his lips across my cheek to my ear. “I need to see you. And touch you. Alone.”
I could hardly think clearly enough to speak. “You are seeing me. And touching me. And we are alone.” I tilted my head to one side to give him access to my neck. He accepted, nibbling his way down to my collarbone. His teeth and tongue sent lava pouring into my belly.
“You’re teasing me?” There was laughter in his tone as he murmured against my skin.
“What if I am?”
“There’s punishment for that type of behavior.” He centered his lips on my chest and kissed his way down to the part in my shirt. My back arched like it was a bow and he controlled the string that pulled it tight.
I’d never wanted anything so much in my whole life. Not ever. But…there were consequences, and if we got caught…
Alton’s words taunted me. Coming to my senses, I nudged Dane back, instantly missing the close contact when he obliged. He took my hands in his and kissed the knuckles.
“Our rock. Give me an hour.”
“An hour then.” He kissed me one more time, like he was trying to make sure I wouldn’t change my mind. He needn’t have worried. “You’d better go while you can.” He backed away so I could open the door. I paused before I made my escape. I didn’t want to go. And I knew Dane didn’t want me to go. But there, in Angel Reynolds’ pantry, with a party going on downstairs, we both knew there was no other choice.
As if sensing my hesitation, Dane added, “I’ll meet you there.”
I nodded. I knew the coming hour would be the longest of my life.
Chapter 14
After feigning the need to puke and “barely making it” to the grass, Chad was more than happy to rush me home and drop me off at my house without a goodnight kiss or groping. I smiled all the way to the front door.
I crept into the house quietly, but before I could mount the stairs I heard my mother’s sleepy voice. “Was that Chad?”
I swallowed a sigh and rolled my eyes. “Yes, Momma.”
“Did you have fun?”
I thought of my leg pressed to Dane’s as hot water gushed and bubbled around us. I thought of his kisses and his touch and how his body flattened against mine had felt. I answered honestly. “Yes, Momma. Very much.”
“Good girl.”
I waited to hear if she was going to ask anything else, but she didn’t. Within a minute, the roar of Alton’s snore broke the stillness, and the softer, lighter rumble of my mother’s sang behind it.
I made my way upstairs, feeling every bit like a caged lioness. My every thought, my every nerve was concentrated with laser focus on one objective—getting to Dane.
I paced back and forth across my bedroom floor, trying to give Momma and Alton a chance to get back into a deeper sleep. Back and forth I went, my eyes following my reflection in the glass of the window. But it wasn’t me I was looking at; I was picturing the fields beyond. They seemed to hold everything in life that made me happy.
Dane James.
Memories made with him.
Dreams spun with him.
My growing love for him.
And our rock. The life raft in the turbulent sea of my world.
I held out as long as I could, tried to wait the full hour, but everything in me was straining. Straining, straining, straining to get to Dane. To see his smile, feel his arms, hear his voice.
When I could stand it no longer, I retraced my footsteps back downstairs. I tiptoed through the kitchen, eased open the door, and breezed out into the night. The instant I was away from the house, however, I took off like a shot. All I could think of, all I wanted was Dane.
To get to Dane.
Overhead, the moon was full and round, a beautiful crystal ball in the sky. It poured a softly brilliant light onto Dane, allowing me to see him long before I reached him. It drenched his long hair in silver and bathed his broad shoulders in mercury.
He was standing on our rock, tall and strong, like a lighthouse on a rocky shore. He was the beacon I ran toward, the one who would guide me home, give me safe harbor. Take me to the place I belonged.
That was with him.
I belonged with him.
Dane bent as I neared, offering his hand. I ran the last few feet and I took it. With amazing ease, he swung me up onto the broad surface of the boulder and pulled me straight into the circle of his arms, crushing me against him. I felt as elated as I felt fulfilled, like I’d waited my whole life for this very moment.
I clung to him.
Dane’s lips tickled the side of my neck where his face was buried. “Why does it feel like I haven’t seen you in a thousand years?”
I was breathless. “I don’t know, but I feel the same way.”
Dane leaned back enough to take my face in his hands. For long, intense seconds, all I could feel was the warmth of his hands, the cool of the night, and whatever was shining from his gaze.
He searched my eyes, for what I didn’t know, but he held me captive as he drew slowly closer.
Closer, closer, closer.
Neither of us looked away until our noses were nearly touching and he set his forehead against mine. I felt as much as heard him exhale.
I knew what he was feeling. I knew that kind of relief. It felt as though I was always holding my breath, always waiting for the moment when I could see him again, when I could be with him again. And then I could exhale. And then everything would feel right. And then everything would be okay.
At least for a little while.
I knew that feeling. For me, it had a name.
Dane James.
He was my relief.
He was my exhale.
He was my rock.
And now he was here. We were together. And we had the night.
Suddenly, I was frantic, impatient, overwhelmed with the need to take him in. All of him, like if I could absorb him, or be absorbed by him, I’d be whole and complete.
“Dane.” My voice was a whisper, carried on breath as eager to touch him as I was. My hands, my mouth, my skin—I wanted every part of me to be in contact with every part of him.
I leaned in. He bent down.
His lips found mine. My soul found his.
Our legs were a tangle, our tongues a hot twist. We were hungry hands and greedy lips and frenzied moans.
We touched and clung. We kissed and tore. Fingers gripped, palms smoothed, mouths devoured. Neither of us could get close eno
ugh fast enough. This was all that mattered. We were all that mattered. Dane James and me and this night. There was no yesterday. There was no tomorrow. We had the now, and we both knew that might be all we’d ever have.
My clothes were peeled away with sweet intensity. I felt the urgency in Dane’s fingers, knew precisely what he was feeling as he shed them. He was in a rush to get back to me, to get back to my skin and my warmth. And I was in a rush to feel him again.
For a single deep breath, cool night air chilled my skin. I watched with wide, rapt eyes as Dane backed away to undress. He was strength and grace and every manly thing I’d ever imagined, wrapped in beauty and covered in flawless skin.
My breath was caught and, before I could inhale again, his hot, hard chest was pressed to mine. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart. It tapped a heavy thump against his ribs and echoed from his chest into my own. Our bodies spoke a rhythm only we could understand. The tempo surrounded us and we moved with it, moved to it.
He left me long enough to spread his clothes out onto our rock, and every second without him was almost painful. An urgency, a violent and desperate need coursed through me, turning my blood to fire. It burned away all reason, all caution, all hesitation and left behind only the necessity of Dane. He felt necessary to my heart, to my head, to my very existence, and nothing in the world mattered except him. Being close to him. Having him against me, around me, inside me.
When he returned to me, he paused only long enough to brush his thumb over my bottom lip. “Brinkley, there’s nothing I want more in my life than to be with you, but I want you to be sure.”
There was a tremor in his touch, but not in his voice. His body was racing toward pleasure, but his heart…his heart was racing only toward mine.
“I want you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” I didn’t even bother trying to hide what I was feeling. My soul was as naked before him as my skin was.