“Because you like cookies?”
That earns me a short-lived smile. “Because I wanted to see the world. Experience new and different things.”
“Think you got more than you bargained for.” It’s a joke. A bad one, but it’s my attempt to lighten her mood.
She laughs, but it has a bitter edge. “You could say that.”
Emily absently scratches at her arms. I immediately snag her fingers and gently tug until her body drops next to mine. Keeping her fingers, I brush my other hand along the angry welt forming on the inside of her arm. “Do you notice when this happens?”
“Usually not until the hives are huge. I started getting them after, well...after that night.”
Emily blinks several times as she rests her head on my pillow. It’ll absorb her scent and the thought pleases me more than it should. It’s time to let Emily go and roll out of bed.
Because I promised, I’ll stay with her, but it needs to be at a distance of five feet. But I don’t move. Instead, I keep massaging the smooth skin of her inner arm.
“I hate new,” she confesses. “I despise different. I like calm and mundane and routine. Snowflake is none of those things. It’s been chaos and change and unpredictable. This town frightens me, which probably is a huge joke to you. I can’t imagine one thing scaring you.”
You scare me. “I liked both of my jobs.”
“What?” Emily readjusts her head on the pillow and I enjoy the sight of her in my bed so much that space in my jeans becomes an issue.
“You asked what I liked to do. I liked both my jobs. This is my first summer in years not lifeguarding. Even when I start working for the security company, I’ll continue to ref football. Chevy and I are considering coaching a fall team. I know it sounds stupid, but I’d like to do something with disabled kids. It’s a big county, but not large enough for there to be resources for them like there are in Louisville or Nashville. So they sit on the sidelines a lot. Doesn’t seem fair.”
“That doesn’t sound stupid,” she says.
I say nothing and I’m not sure how I feel that I spilled so easily to Emily.
“So you enjoy being around kids?” she presses.
Never thought too much about it. We’re still holding hands and I wonder if Emily notices. Her skin is soft. Warm. I bet she feels this way everywhere and not just the areas I’ve explored: her mouth, her neck, her arms. I also bet she’s a vision with her shirt off.
A shot of lust heats my blood. I focus on answering her question and not acquainting myself with the color of her bra. “Yeah. Kids don’t bother me. Most of the time I like them a hell of a lot more than I like their parents.”
There’s an inch between us. Maybe less. When she moves slightly her legs brush mine. Images of weaving my hand around her back and sliding her body underneath mine torture me.
As if by instinct, I release her fingers and claim the curve of her stomach. Emily’s eyes flash to mine and there’s a hooded look to them that screams she’s sharing the same thoughts. Her hand hovers off the bed. With a deep breath she slowly reaches over and rests it on my bicep. Electricity shoots up my arm with her touch and I blink with the dizzying caress.
“Why’s that?” Emily asks in a hoarse voice. When it’s obvious I lost the conversation, she prompts, “Why do you like the kids better than the parents?”
“Some people around here think the Terror are the shit, but there’re others that treat us like garbage. People see the cut, see the tattoos and earrings on some of the guys, and they assume that we’re a bunch of felons. Both Mom and Dad have lost jobs because they were told to choose between the club and where they worked.”
“Did the club interfere with their jobs?”
“No. It’s a small town and people know that Dad rides with the club and that Mom is a part of the support group, the Terror Gypsies. Guess their bosses thought it was bad for business to have a club member working for them. That’s a huge reason why Cyrus started the security company—to give jobs to brothers who the community shut out.”
Emily bites her bottom lip and over the past few weeks I’ve learned that means she’s analyzing and worrying. “Do people treat you differently?”
“Most years at school I was labeled a disciplinary case before I walked into the classroom. What school never understood is that I didn’t just have to answer to my parents about my grades and behavior at school—I answered to the whole club. The club pushes the ‘it takes a village’ concept to the extreme.”
“I’m sorry,” says Emily.
“Don’t be. It’s what people do. Judge before they bother getting to know someone. Judge before they understand what the club’s about. Their loss as far as I’m concerned.”
“No.” Emily stares into my eyes. “I’m sorry for being the person who judged you.”
Her words are like two slugs to the chest and I sway. Emily’s hand on my arm tightens as if she could carry my burdens. It takes a big person to admit when they’re wrong and it takes an even bigger person to admit that they’re wrong to the party that wounded them.
If she can be honest, then so can I. “I’m sorry the club hasn’t done right by you. All this secret stuff—I don’t get it. You’re Eli’s daughter, Cyrus’s granddaughter. If you grew up around here you would have been the princess. Still could be if you wanted. There’s not a man in the club who wouldn’t do what you asked.”
Ingesting the concept that she’s royalty, Emily fiddles with a loose string on the sleeve of my T-shirt. “As long as whatever I asked for didn’t interfere with what Cyrus or Eli wanted, right?”
She’s learning fast. “That’d be right.”
“Is that the reason why we’re friends? Because Eli told you to be?”
The sadness in her voice creates an ache in me. My fingers ease to the small of her back and I edge closer as I pull her to me. She doesn’t protest. Just places her other hand on my chest as those dark doe eyes search me for an answer.
“I’m done bullshitting you. At first, I was nice to you because Eli told me to stay near you and protect you. I...”
Emotion locks the words in my windpipe. I almost failed her and knowing what I could have lost if I had fucked up that night at the motel causes hurt and anger to weave together in my gut.
“I fell asleep the night I was supposed to be watching you at the motel. That mistake almost harmed you and almost cost me my chance at membership in the club. Following you around was my penance. But then being around you...”
There’s a reason why people shouldn’t talk at four in the morning. Exhaustion eliminates the ability to lie. It demolishes the ability to tiptoe around the truth. Emotions are too exposed and real. Heightened to the point of explosion.
My hand roams up her back until I can tunnel my fingers through her hair. I slide a chestnut lock between my thumb and forefinger and enjoy the silkiness as it falls back to her shoulder. Her breath catches and the sound causes my cells to spark to life.
“But being around me...what?” Emily whispers.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, and the honesty of my words stings. “You’re beautiful inside and out. I like how you challenge me. I like how I can never figure out what you’re going to do or say. I like how we’ve thrown weird shit in your direction and you take it like a pro.”
I cup her face with one hand and caress her soft skin. “I like how you smile and how you laugh. I like how you love and defend your family and I like how you’re trying to love mine. I love how you trust. But mostly, Emily, I like how I feel when I’m around you.”
Shit. My heart bursts as the words tumble out. “I’m falling for you.”
Emily
OZ’S FINGERS BECOME individual flames lapping against my skin and my whole body is on fire. Mom has warned me about boys like him. Boys who are dangerous. Boys who s
ay pretty things. A voice in my head screams to run, but instead I lean into his touch.
“What’s going on between us?” I ask.
Oz shakes his head slowly. “I don’t know.”
“I like you,” I admit. More than like. Whenever I look at Oz it’s butterflies and tingles and it’s not just the fantasy of him kissing me that sends me into a tailspin. It’s the idea of him in general. I do like him. Enough that it feels an awful lot like I’m falling, too.
“I like you so much that I’m...” Terrified. Falling means scary things. Unknown things. And I don’t like scary or the unknown. “I’m not supposed to be falling for you.”
“Since the moment you walked into my life, I’ve wanted to crawl into your head and know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. You scare the hell out of me, and if your father knew how you constantly cross my mind, how badly I want to kiss you, he’d put a bullet in my brain.”
I shiver as Oz traces my lips. “Who are you referring to? Eli or my dad?”
Oz’s face lights up with his grin. “Both of them. I’ve seen Jeff around you and he looks capable of pulling the trigger. I’ve learned to never discount the ones wearing a tie. They’re the ones that scare the shit out of me.”
I laugh and Oz laughs with me. The bed shakes and the vibration shifts our bodies closer together. So much so that my breasts are flush against his chest, my toes nudge his and his thighs lie over mine. When the sound fades our eyes meet and the smiles vanish.
Our chests move in unison. My pulse thunders in my ears as it silently begs over and over again for Oz to kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.
Oz drops his hand from my face. I grab it, hating the cold left behind. “Don’t.”
“You’re tired,” he says. “And we’re playing a dangerous game.”
But it’s a game I don’t want to stop playing. A gust of wind hits the trailer and the walls surrounding us creak. I weave my fingers through his. “Please stay.”
There’s a quaver to my voice. Being this near Oz makes me nervous. The thought of his lips on mine, his hands on my body, a return to the rhythm we had so quickly found when we kissed weeks ago is enough to cause me to tremble.
That day, we had grown into an inferno with a good reason to dampen the flames. But here, we’re alone and there would be nothing to prevent us from going further, searching for the more my body desires. I care for Oz. Oz cares for me, but is that enough to cushion the fall I’ll take if we succumb to the heightening attraction?
“You’re tired, Emily, and I want to kiss you until you breathe out my name, but there’s nothing good that will come out of this.”
Oz is right. I’m so tired I’m fuzzy; so filled with a need to kiss him I’m light-headed. But that isn’t the only reason I want him to stay.
The wind hits the trailer again and the roar of the trees sends a chill down my spine. At least at Olivia’s there was a huge open space between the cabin and the forest. But here, we’re in the thick of it. The dark enclosing us like a casket. “Just stay.”
“Emily,” Oz warns, but he doesn’t leave. Instead, he releases my hand and rewraps his arm around my waist. “Eli will kill me and I’ll lose any chance at prospect.”
As if we’ve been extremely intimate before, as if we’ve been together forever, Oz extends an arm under my head. He then wastes no time inching up the material of my shirt until he can rest his palm against my skin. I melt under the heat from his hand.
He’s right, I’m being selfish, but I don’t push him away. Instead, I lick my lips. Oz settles his head on the pillow and our faces are close. Extremely close. So close that his exhalations move random pieces of my hair.
“You’re right. You should go,” I say.
“I will,” he responds.
“Okay.”
“All right.”
“Good night, Oz,” I whisper.
His fingers begin this slow brush along my stomach. Each goose bump–inducing glide edges farther up a centimeter and then down with each cycle. My breathing hitches when Oz skims the bottom seam of my bra.
“Good night,” he says against my mouth.
“Good night,” I repeat, and as I say it, my lips touch his. Energy builds between us and my legs become restless with this pent-up urge for more.
Oz takes in my lower lip and I’m overwhelmed with this sensation of awareness, this realization of each and every nerve ending I possess. Oz’s hand, which had trailed south, tightens on my hip.
His lips pause on mine. He’s waiting on me. I want this. No, I crave this. I brush my mouth against his and the movement is so slight he could miss it. So delicate because I’m afraid if I do too much then the two of us will explode.
My hand slides up his arm to his neck. A whisper of a touch as I let my fingers tease the ends of his hair. Oz sucks in a breath and my mouth turns up at the idea that I have this effect on him.
I’ve dreamed of this. Night after night. Woke up morning after morning to Oz sitting across the table from me acting as if he’s in total control. But as Oz curls me into him, his body informs me that he’s seconds away from shattering. And so am I.
Excitement unfurls within me with the expectation of what’s on the verge of happening. I allow the tip of my tongue to lick Oz’s lips and there’s an almost audible crack of electricity. Our mouths part and...fireworks. The beautiful kind. The loud kind. The type you lose yourself completely in. Reds and blues and an array of bright colors burst behind my closed lids.
My hands wander Oz’s back, pulling the material of his shirt up along the way. Oz rolls us and he uses his arms to balance his weight, creating the sweetest pressure of his body over mine. My legs hook around his and it’s easy to pick up Oz’s rhythm.
He leans up, yanks his shirt off and my heart goes completely still. Oz is gorgeous. His body hard and ripped. I stroke my fingers along the cut lines. In return, Oz circles my belly button and the caress sends pleasing waves throughout my body.
“Are you a virgin?” There’s no judgment in his voice. No tease. He says it in a way that indicates he already knows and is perfectly fine with the answer.
“Yes,” I tell him, unashamed.
There’s no doubt Oz is more experienced than me. Not just because of what people have said, but by how expertly he maneuvers. It doesn’t bother me to be more naive. My body is a gift, not something to be carelessly given away.
Violet was right. What’s important is accepting what type of girl I am and I’m the girl happy to share this with Oz, but I’m not willing to share too much. “I’d prefer to stay that way...for a while, but I’d also like to keep kissing you.”
“We can definitely do that.” His eyes grow dark as he watches his hand inch the material of my shirt up and over my bra, and I slightly tilt up to allow him to ease the shirt off my body.
Oz lowers his head and blows air across my stomach. My toes curl and I wiggle under the luscious sensation. He kisses a path along my stomach and my muscles dissolve to liquid.
Fingertips along my bra straps. One down and then another as Oz continues this divine assault. Wherever his hands touch, his lips soon follow and what started out as slow has increased in speed.
My fingers entwine in his hair and thanks to the clasp in the front, cold air nips across my breasts quickly followed by the warmth of Oz’s mouth. We blend into this seductive rhythm. A synchronized dance that makes me dizzy, that makes me ache in a very good way.
He reclaims my lips and we continue to escape from unnecessary clothes. We roll, we explore and we move. Move in a way that I don’t want to stop. Move in a way that causes me to hold on tighter to Oz. Move in a way that causes soft sounds to leave my throat and makes Oz moan as he nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck.
A rush of energy. A rush of power. A pure rush of adrenaline that causes us
to fly faster and faster until the entire buildup deliciously shatters. My body arches at the same exact moment that Oz’s arms constrict around me and then we’re gasping for air.
Oz kisses my lips again and this time it’s lazy and sweet and the most beautiful kiss I’ve ever been given. His warm palms caress my face as if I’m glass and then he sweeps the stray strands of hair away from my face. “Thank you,” he whispers.
“For what?”
Oz shakes his head as if I should already know. “For this. For allowing me this. I don’t deserve it. You’re so damned beautiful.”
I’m a puddle and Oz adjusts so that he’s flat on the bed and I’m tucked into his side. He gathers me close and encourages me to mold my exhausted and sated body around his. My arm rests over his bare chest. My leg lies over his. I should care that the only piece of clothing I have on is my underwear. I should care that all he has on is his boxers, but I don’t.
Oz is into me and I’m into him. He cares and so do I and we shared this. This. I never knew I could be so intimate with someone and still be a virgin. He never pushed for more than I was willing to give and for that I kiss his chest before resting my head back on him. His fingers play with my hair again and the gentle massage causes me to drift near sleep, but as the wind rocks the trailer, my eyes flutter open.
Oz kisses the top of my head. “Go to sleep. I’ll stay up and chase your monsters away.”
I slowly inhale and contemplate his words. Even with Oz surrounding me, I can still sense the dark and the woods pressing in on me from outside. “I know it’s silly. Logically, there’s nothing to be scared of, but...”
“Trust me to protect you.”
Trust him. “It’s only until dawn. Then I’m not as scared of the woods.”
“I got you,” he says. “I promise, I got you.”
I cuddle into him, close my eyes and trust.
Oz
MY PHONE BUZZES and I stretch. The scent of sand at the beach fills my senses as I inhale: Emily. I open my eyes and what we did this morning collides into me with the impact of a Mack truck.
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