“You know the whole anatomy?”
I nod. “I draw people…it’s necessary to understand anatomy.”
“Wow, I bet Mia uses you as a study partner for medical school, doesn’t she?”
“Sometimes. But my knowledge does not need to extend as deeply as hers.”
She pushes back her long sleeve to study her wrist, then glances at the drawing as if comparing the two. “I would never have thought in a million years that my wrists are remarkable.”
“Well, you won’t live for a million years so—”
She holds up a hand, laughing, and I realize I did my usual. “Sorry, I wasn’t being literal again. It just means I’m surprised.”
I flip the page to a blank one and begin to sketch as we talk. I’m choosing a safer subject to draw this time—the scoreboard that hangs centered over the ice rink. For a while, this helps. With Jenna beside me, I make it through the rest of the time that people file in—past us in our row, in the seats in front of us and behind—and even to the introduction of the players as they skate onto the ice when their jersey numbers and names are being called. I’m okay as long as I can focus on my pad and only look up occasionally.
It’s harder to block out the bright lights, the smell of food, the sound of feet shuffling all around us. It’s loud and Jenna has to lean close when she wants to tell me anything. I want her to keep doing it though. I like the way it feels when her hair brushes against my cheek. I like how she smells tonight… like rain on grass. Like ripe pears.
But after a while, it’s too hard—and the arena too dark—to concentrate on my sketchpad, so I’m forced to tuck it away in my back pocket. The noise is distracting and so is the presence of the crowd. It feels like ants crawling across my skin. I rub my hands along my thighs to calm myself, but that’s not working either.
Jenna, however, is keeping a close watch on me. She leans over again and says, “You okay?”
“Um…”
“Feeling a little…pickles?”
Her phrase is complete nonsense, but I remember that’s because it’s our code. So I nod. “Yes. Pickles. Sour dill pickles.”
Her brows rise. “We don’t want sour dill pickles. I, um, have an idea. Maybe it will help you take your mind off of things so you can watch the game.”
“Okay.”
“Well, it’s not going to be as good as a suit of armor or even a weighted blanket at the dentist.”
She stands up and then just as quickly sinks onto my lap. Then she settles herself gingerly on my thighs. I freeze, completely at a loss for what to do. In fact, I’m so confused right now that I forget to worry about the crowd around us or even the sounds of the hockey game.
She turns and says, “Is this okay? Are you okay?”
I lean forward a little so she can hear my answer. “Yes.”
A beautiful woman is sitting on my lap. As Jordan would say, What’s not to like?
Slowly, she leans back, settling against my chest. We are now touching from her ankles up through her legs to her hips, which rest against my upper thighs, and her back is pressed to my chest. Her head is tilted to the side so that I can still see past her if I wanted to watch the game. I don’t. Right now, I couldn’t concentrate on it if I tried.
My heart is racing. The feel of her and that smell—it’s even stronger now. Is it her shampoo? Her soap? Or is that her that I’m smelling?
“You comfortable?” she asks, turning her head again, her silky hair brushing against my face. I close my eyes, relishing it. Relish. The good kind of relish. Not ‘relish’ the code word.
Now would be a bad time to use that code word. I could sit with her like this all night.
My hands are gripping the armrests, but slowly I release my death grip. Jenna lays her arms along mine, resting her hands on my hands. Hers are so much smaller, but her fingers fit in the crevices between mine. I can feel my heartbeat in every inch of my body that is pressed against hers.
Her neck is three centimeters from my mouth. It looks soft…succulent. I want to taste it. Would she taste as good as she smells? What would her skin feel like under my hands?
She might not like me doing that. My hands have callouses on them from the blacksmithing and my artwork. They would feel rough and hard on her smooth, supple skin.
Suddenly, I’m imagining tasting her and touching her, and my body is reacting. I’m getting hard right where she’s sitting on me, and I don’t want her to know.
So I say into her ear, “Relish.”
I really didn’t want to say that word, but I don’t want her to feel my erection, either. She’ll think I’m a pervert or something. But her reaction is slow and she’s asking me to repeat myself. At the same time, the crowd jumps to its feet, cheering at the two players on the ice who are fighting.
I twist and slide my arm under her knees, pulling her up with me in one swift motion.
“What the—?” says the man next to me, but I’m not listening. I need to get out of here and she’s coming with me.
“Wil!” she exclaims, but the rest of her words are lost in the crowd. I shoulder my way down the row and out to the aisle. Then it’s up the stairs to the deserted concessions area, where I stop, finally able to breathe.
Jenna is staring at me with wide eyes but making no move to get out of my hold, so I don’t let her down. “I thought that sitting on your lap was helping.” She frowned.
“It was helping.” In some ways. But making it more difficult in others.
“Well, you almost made it to the first intermission. That’s good.” She pauses, her face growing a shade of pink. “It’s, uh, it’s a good thing you’re strong, so you could just pick me up and go like that.” She licks her lips and looks up into my face. My eyes fly to the nearest door and I start walking toward it.
“I wouldn’t have to be very strong in order to carry you. You can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.”
“Women don’t like to discuss their weight.”
“Yes, I remember hearing that, but I don’t understand it.”
“Women are complicated, Wil. Like you shouldn’t talk about how we look in our jeans, either.”
My eyes shift to her legs, noticing how her jeans hug her feminine thighs. She looks really good in them. Should I not say that? She did warn me.
Her closeness, the feel of her body pressed against my chest, the smell of her and the tight sweater hugging the curves of her breasts…none of those are helping my current state of arousal. Not in the least.
Now that we are outside the glass doors, it’s safe to let her go. I release her legs and she lands on her feet with a thump.
“Oh!” she exclaims and grabs onto my arm to steady herself. Not expecting her hold, I tense and jerk my arm away. I pull her with me and she almost falls before I catch her.
“You startled me,” I tell her.
She huffs out a breath. “Well, you startled me first! You don’t just scoop someone up in the middle of a crowd and then plop them unceremoniously in the parking lot without a word.”
“I spoke words. More than one.”
She throws her hands up. “I can’t even. I can’t!”
“You can’t what?”
Her fists tighten at her sides and she’s talking through her teeth now. “You’re pissing me off.”
I blink and pull away from her. “Oh.”
She folds her arms across her chest, and all I can think about is how the material across her breasts tightens and I can see every curve. I’m obsessed with imagining what they look like underneath her shirt. It looks like she has very pretty breasts. As pretty as the rest of her. “Well…should I not be pissed off?”
I think about that question for a minute, but am startled when she hits me on the arm.
“Stop staring at my boobs!”
I rip my gaze away from that perfect chest.
Then she says it. That phrase I hate more than anything else. “Look me in the eyes, Wil.”
My stomach drop
s and I feel nauseous. I hate it when people tell me that. I hate it more than when they call me retard or Rain Man or whatever else I’ve been called. Because the people who say this to me are not my enemies. They are people I care about—my friends, even my family. I swallow and stuff my hands in my pockets, but I’m still staring at the ground.
“Look at me!” she repeats.
I take a deep breath, and then, because I don’t trust my voice, I shake my head, balling my fists inside my pockets.
Chapter 7
Jenna
I wasn’t quite sure what was happening. It had started out as a fairly enjoyable trip to a hockey game, but things had deteriorated quickly. Now William and I were hashing it out in the parking lot of the Honda Center, getting quizzical looks from security personnel.
“Look up, Wil.”
Instead, he rubbed his hands down the sides of his thighs, then turned on his heel and walked away.
Just like that. At full speed. Like he didn’t even want or expect me to keep up.
I had to run to catch up to him, and by that time we were on a narrow sidewalk along a busy avenue. I stuck to his heels as we crossed the river and cut over into the theater parking lot.
He sped up once we reached the lot as if avoiding the possibility of me walking next to him. Heaven forbid that happen. “William Drake. Stop right now!”
He stopped but didn’t turn around.
I caught up with him and moved into his line of sight. “Well?” I said.
“Well, what?”
“What the hell was that? Why did you storm off?”
“Because I didn’t want to say anything rude, and you made me angry.”
“Because I asked you to look me in the eye?”
“Yes.”
“Well, maybe I’m just tired of you looking everywhere but my eyes.”
He blinked. “It’s difficult.”
“Why?”
He shook his head. “Because when I’m looking in your eyes, I’m too distracted to hear what you are saying. It’s intense.”
“What’s intense? I mean, I know I’m beautiful, but…” I joked in an effort to lighten the mood.
“Yes. You are beautiful. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I sucked in a breath. Wow. He’d said it in a matter-of-fact tone as if stating that the sky was undeniably blue. There was no art to the words, no obvious attempt at flattery. Why was my throat closing up like this?
“I was joking.” I laughed self-consciously. “I’m not really that full of myself.”
“I don’t know what that means. But you shouldn’t joke about being beautiful. It’s not a joke.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and waited.
I felt both uncomfortable and pleased at the same time. My cheeks were flaming hot and—ironically—I couldn’t meet his gaze even if he wanted me to.
“I didn’t realize,” I suddenly blurted, my voice trembling with regret.
“What?”
“That it was so hard for you to look in my eyes. I thought that was a myth. I don’t spend a lot of time around autistic people.”
“It’s hard to look in anyone’s eyes, but easier if I know the person.” I was flooded with relief that he seemed okay discussing this. “Mostly it keeps me from focusing on what is being said. It also makes me feel like I’m violating that person’s privacy.”
“By looking in their eyes?”
“Like I’m seeing things that I shouldn’t see.” He shakes his head. “I get tired of having to explain it to people. And you aren’t going to get it so—”
“The eyes are the windows to the soul,” I interrupted quietly.
“Eyes are not windows.”
“It’s a metaphor, Wil. It means that a person’s eyes can show what’s going on with them beneath the surface. So maybe you’re feeling like a Peeping Tom?”
He was quiet for a long time, shifting from one leg to the other. “Yeah, so maybe if I make eye contact with you as long as you want, you’ll let me peep through your window.”
I opened my mouth, about to lodge a protest, when I saw the smile on his face. He was rather pleased with himself and his joke. “Ha ha. Then again, you do stare at my boobs enough.”
“I like your breasts.” His eyes darted to my chest, causing my nipples to tighten under my t-shirt.
I folded my arms to cover my unconscious reaction and laughed. “I can tell.”
“And your butt. And your legs. And—”
“All right, all right. I get the picture. Let’s get in your car,” I said with an exasperated sigh. Typical man.
William opened the car door for me and then walked around before sliding in behind the wheel. As we headed out of the parking lot, I dared a glance at his chiseled profile.
I wasn’t above feeling gratified when a hot guy noticed me. And evidently, William had. He thought I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. His compliment—couched more like an observation of fact—made me feel more glorious and radiant than Aphrodite when Adonis chose to be with her over the goddess Persephone.
We grabbed some fast food from a drive-thru and ate it in the car to avoid the dinner crowd. Then William took me home and, taking his chivalrous duties seriously, insisted on walking me up two flights of stairs to my door.
I wasn’t entirely sure why I wanted to kiss William so badly—well, maybe because he’s freaking hot as hell—but if there was ever an opportunity, this was it. So I leaned in to kiss him goodnight. He was so much taller than me that I pushed up on my tiptoes, expecting him to lean in, too.
No such luck.
He must not have known what I was attempting to do, which would explain why he stepped back when he saw me leaning toward him. I lost my balance, but he caught me, and his strong arms stayed wrapped around me for a few moments longer than they needed to be. There was something electric in that embrace—a heaviness in the air, like before a rainstorm.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, feeling my face burn. Thank goddess it was dark outside. “I, uh, I just wanted to give you a goodnight kiss.”
A pause. “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “You should have told me.”
Slowly, stiffly, he bent down, and I—now embarrassed beyond belief—turned my head and quickly landed a peck on his cheek. Then I reached for the knob to scurry off into my apartment and lick my wounds.
I was detained when William hooked a large hand around my arm.
“That’s not a goodnight kiss,” he said.
“Oh? So then—” And that’s all I got out before his mouth pressed against mine. I barely had a chance to catch my breath before I was on the ride of my life…
I opened my lips and suddenly something inside of me jolted, like a rollercoaster hitting the track at full speed. The shock was such that I almost pulled back.
I was certainly glad I didn’t when William reached up and slid his palms to the back of my head, his fingers weaving into my hair. I pressed my hands to his broad chest as he pinned my body against the cold metal door. Struggling for breath, I felt that kiss not just at the juncture of our lips but all over my body. From the top of my prickling scalp, where his fingers rested without ever relinquishing their hold, to the tingling in my toes.
It was almost too much. And yet I wanted more. Like the craving of an adrenaline high on a rollercoaster after the first breathless dip, I wouldn’t stop until the ride had come to a screeching halt.
Almost as if hearing that thought, William’s tongue slipped along my lips, slowly, seductively asking for permission to enter.
Goddess, the tingles suddenly transformed into aches. Now it was more than mere wanting. I needed more.
Permission granted.
Within seconds, the kiss intensified and the pressure from his mouth deepened. His tongue slipped into my mouth and was now dueling with mine, as if we faced each other on a field of battle. Against my will, a little sigh escaped my lips.
I
hadn’t had a kiss like this in ages. It was searing, bright and powerful—pure thrill. At once, I trembled with fear and craving. Wanting to pull away and end it while also willing it to never end.
William made the decision for me, and as he slowly pulled away, I felt just as jolted from the severance of our connection as I did when it began. After a long, silent moment, he cleared his throat. “Now that is a goodnight kiss.”
I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. As soon as I did, his grin widened and I felt a pang at how adorable he was while still being incredibly sexy. My throat tightened and my heart rate sped up as a distant fear nibbled at the back of my thoughts.
I couldn’t get involved with William for so many reasons, not the least of which was that I was leaving soon. And though I needed that tiara back, I couldn’t let feelings get involved. I—I couldn’t go there with him. I could never go there with anyone. My heart had been killed and buried long ago.
But it hadn’t taken me long to realize that William was different than the others. And if Ann was right and he did have a thing for me, then this couldn’t go any further.
I stepped back to move into the doorway, only to bang my head loudly on the closed door. “Ow! Shit.” I’d forgotten to open the door, and in my dazzled state had tried to walk through solid matter. It didn’t take a physics student to know that you couldn’t do that.
William asked if I was okay, and I barely muttered enough to alleviate his concern before telling him goodbye as quickly as possible. Then I unlocked the door and moved inside before he could say another word.
No, I couldn’t open this drawbridge and let him in. I had to keep everything shut up tight inside—man my watchtowers, bar the city gates. He could assemble his siege, lay in wait outside the moat, but I wouldn’t be around long enough for him to wait it out. Unlike a medieval fortress, Jenna Kovac was a movable, transient being.
And I always would be.
I didn’t fall asleep until the sun was almost up because I may have spent a few hours reliving that kiss. I tossed and turned and told myself I was being an idiot. It wasn’t the first time a handsome guy had kissed me, after all.
When I woke up on Saturday morning, it was almost noon. No thanks to my roommate. There should be a law against running a vacuum before nine o’clock on weekends. And if there were such a law, I’d have been the first one calling the cops on Alex.
For The One (Gaming The System Book 5) Page 9