Thunderstruck, my jaw unhinged. “No.” I gasped, endeavoring to secure my floating eyeballs. “Never…nope…”
“I don’t believe you.” She spurted her hyena-like chortle. “It’s the most logical explanation.”
Reflecting in my psychedelic fog, I considered maybe he was more interested in her than I wanted to believe. I wasn’t sure whether it was autumn’s brilliant sun or the heat charging beneath my skin, but either way, my face burned as I seethed. Focusing on combining Dee’s two heads, I talked over the glitch in my throat. “Michael and I are…are…nothing.”
She closed the gap, coming near. “So nothing happened between the two of you at Putnam’s?” Her eyes resembled a feral cat. “I watched you dance and now dinner at his house? You’re not telling the whole truth.”
“Putnam’s?” I gulped air to clear the fuzz. “I don’t know who it was.”
She eyed me peculiarly. “What are you talking about?”
I wasn’t too utterly blitzed to realize she was the last person I’d unburden my secret.
“Mary, you’ve changed,” she snapped. “We’re supposed to be friends, and friends don’t hit on each other’s boyfriends.”
“Maybe…maybe I’m smartening up.” I kicked my foot at an imaginary blade of grass. “And Michael never was yours. Not really.”
“Hey, hey ladies. What’s all the bickering?” Greg prowled from the woods, startling us. “I found the perfect spot. Want to get away from the noise for a while?”
Narcissist Greg faced Dee, and his upper lip twisted as if he held a private joke. “We could pick up where we left off before we were rudely interrupted at my party.”
My eyes rounded and glimpsed Dee’s uncharacteristic rosy cheeks. She hadn’t been with Michael that night in the basement. Greg linked an arm over her shoulders.
“Sure, Greg. Lead me to this perfect spot of yours.”
Her glib attitude blew me away. Parting the weedy undergrowth with her legs, they hiked into the shady woods.
“Hey, Mary. Whatcha doing over here?” Jesse asked, creeping up on me again.
“Jesse, that moonshine—” I smacked my tongue on the roof of my mouth “—did something weird.”
“Let’s go for a walk, kay?” His fingers roped my wrists, and he lugged me into the shadows of the trees.
Digging my heels firmly into the ground, I resisted like a cantankerous cow. “I can…can’t. Barely talk or…walk.”
“It feels good, don’t it?”
He released my wrists and speedily leaned in for a kiss. Cranking my head, his mouth grazed my cheek. “Not going to happen.”
“But babe.”
“And stop calling me that.” He peered at me with his soulful, dejected brown eyes as if I stabbed him in the heart. Why is he beating this dead horse into the ground? I’m done with this.
I turned and stumbled from the woody terrain. My bleary vision prevented me from seeing straight, but as I crossed the manicured landscape of the park, it looked as if Michael and Candy were arguing. Her arm was pointing right at me. Michael’s head followed the angle of her arm just as Jesse stalked out of the woods next to me.
It was arduous if not darn right challenging to perceive the expression on Michael’s face. He stood there, stock-still, as Jesse and I walked toward him.
His eyes were spitting bullets, but not at me, he was targeting Jesse.
“What’s up with you, man?” Jesse said to Michael.
“We need to talk.”
Jesse shook his head. “I’m done talking about this shit.”
“We’re just beginning,” said Michael, unabashedly.
I hadn’t the foggiest notion of what they were talking about. Swaying, I adjusted my footing before face planting. While aiming to get my shit together, I noticed my brother striding over to stick his broken nose in. He hated to be left out of a good fight. Thankfully, whatever these boys were discussing it had squat to do with me.
“Sammy G narked, didn’t he?” said Jesse, his mouth unattractively ruffling.
Stevie barged in, “Hey, what’s going on Covington?”
“You should take better care of your sister,” he said, his voice a defiant whisper.
“What do you mean by that?” Stevie frowned at me.
This can’t about me, is it? Either his eyes or mine were floating.
“Mary’s old enough to take care of herself.”
I cast Michael a stubborn, sanctimonious chin lift.
“Really?” Michael’s eyes thinned, and his fingers curled and uncurled. “Then you won’t mind if I take her for a spin on my bike?” His arm slashed out and confiscated my hand.
Steve expressed a bewildered brow as his shoulders rode up.
My legs scarcely cooperated as he marched me to his bike. I snagged a few envious scowls. My girlfriends, and a poignant looking Jesse, monitored us from afar.
“Maybe I don’t want to go for a ride,” I spat like an impertinent child.
“Get on,” he demanded and situated his sunglasses over the ridge of his nose. Michael’s long legs straddled the seat.
“I prefer to stay here.”
He snatched me around my waist and lifted me over his bike. He turned the key, and kick started the bike while holding in the clutch and break.
“You better hold on,” he ordered.
The motorcycle lurched, and my arms automatically wrapped his waist. And I despised myself for loving the feel of his body. We careened down asphalt roadways, and I wondered where all the cops were. When he gunned the motor I leaned into him, resting my head on his back and watched the world smear by.
CHAPTER 24
Michael’s affinity for groundless danger escalated with me clinging for life. In my delirium, instead of heart pounding panic, my pulse spiked with incongruous bliss. Untangling clenched fingers from Michael’s waist, I extended my arms like a tightrope walker. I hooted into the wind that poured over my cooled skin.
Michael’s spirited howl sailed by my ears.
“Hold on.” His fingers seized my extended arm and brought it to his chest.
Burrowing my hips closer to him, I knotted my hands around his waist. Our bodies sloped sideways as we rounded a curve, and his hair whipped about his head at an incredible rate.
We travelled along homeless roadways at an absurd velocity where speed limits weren’t a factor. Eventually, he drove back between the brick entrance columns of the park.
Swerving right, he evaded the party shelter and headed for the flats, a scenic area of Como Park Lake. However, the lake had been drained and dredged for cleanup, making it not so picturesque.
Coasting along the road, Michael craned his neck to check out the eyesore. The bowled lake bottom had vast patches of parched cracked earth and puddles of murky soil, which were littered with debris and rocks. His boot scraped the ground, spinning the rear wheel sideways with the nose of the motorcycle towards the lake.
I bent my right leg, and then my left, and knelt on the leather seat, holding onto his shoulders for support. We couldn’t have bargained for a more radiant, temperate day. I gazed at the effervescent blue sky and then at the contrasting panoramic view.
“Ugly isn’t it?” My voice was a muffled whisper after the rushing wind in my ears.
“It looks like a good time to me.”
I didn’t grasp his meaning as the purring motor idled. I brazenly glided my fingertips over Michael’s skin along his neck. He tensed. Reaching, he clasped my hand, stopping me.
“Sit down and hold tight. Don’t let go.” He throttled the motor a few times, then headed along the road. “Hold tighter,” he barked.
I molded my body into him.
Rapidly, he changed direction. We sped over shorn grass to the embankment. He accelerated, increasing speed. I wasn’t sure if I was scared
or exhilarated. I thought of squeezing my eyelids.
Never!
With expectant eyes, I decided not to miss one speck of time with him.
The wheels left the ground as he shot over the embankment. Soaring through the air, we landed on the lakebed with a thumpy bump. Michael leaned into the wind, taking me with him. Whooping, he geared the bike faster, raining mud surrounded us.
Deep runnels followed in our wake as spinning wheels slurped in goopiness. I found myself shrieking in sheer glee or sheer frenzy, or maybe it was both. His chest vibrated with laughter. The powerful engine plunged onward, the cycle skidded in a semi-circle, and I thought for sure we were headed for disaster. But Michael’s dexterity in handling the bike had us weaving around rotted garbage and evading rocks. With a jolt of energy, the wheels ate up the embankment and over the patchy grass and into the street.
Continuing to the main thoroughfare, he didn’t slow.
Caked in mud, my arms and back felt cold, even in the sunshine. Squalls of wind flagged my grubby hair like a roped lash. Michael decelerated, and the motorcycle puttered into his driveway. He forced the kickstand with his boot heel and stepped over the seat, leaving me cold and reserved.
He was pure adrenaline, ravaging me with his eyes. Muddied from head to toe, Michael flung his head back in bellowing laughter, reminding me of an untamed handsome beast.
“Do I look as bad as you do?”
I mopped down my mucky face, then forked my fingers into my ratty hair and chuckled. “No, you look worse.” His offbeat smile was disorienting as he assisted me from the bike. Where our bodies had merged, Michael’s back and my front were the solitary clean spots.
“Let’s hurry and get cleaned up.” He delayed once to grip his boots by the heels, flinging them on the front stoop before striding into the house.
Meanwhile, I stood outside the door, using my fingers like a squeegee and plopping mud everywhere.
He reopened the screen door. “What are you waiting for? C’mon.”
“Where’s your Aunt and mother?” I asked, toeing out of my grimy shoes. I let them fall next to his boots and tiptoed into the sunroom.
“They were going out for the afternoon.” His fingers laced mine as he escorted me through the house to an upstairs bathroom.
Slipping his head behind a shower curtain, I heard a spray of water battering the tub. I was getting more than antsy. Did he expect me to take my clothes off and hop into the shower with him?
He stared at me, plump eyelashes fringed with mud particles. “Get in,” he said.
“I’m not undressing.” Obstinate, I crossed my arms.
“Who asked you to undress?” he said, bothered by my allegation. “Just get in.”
My hallucinogenic brain was coming down to Earth, and if I was interpreting him correctly, taking a shower with a girl was ordinary.
Exasperated with my reluctance, he shook his head and stepped into the tub—clothes and all. I peeked in to see him scouring off his coating of mud. Awkward but willing, I crept in. His irresistible presence had my knees jangling.
“I meant we’d take turns.” He appeared agitated by my closeness, saying, “This isn’t what I expected, but I guess it’ll do.”
I felt like a midget in the confines of the tub.
“Let’s switch.” He moved me under the saturating spray, and without warning, his hands chafed the length of my back, arms and legs. I washed my hands through my hair and the water turned brown as it pooled around the drain. When I was reasonably drenched and clean, we switched places. Michael poked his head under the cascading water and ruffled his hair in every direction.
Michael was my kryptonite and my boldness had spiked an all-time high the instant I’d stepped into the shower. I reciprocated in kind by scrubbing the grime off his T-shirt and raking my fingertips along the front of his jeans.
“Don’t do that.” He clasped my wrists and shivered.
In a gradual motion, I rose to my short height. His eyes never leaving my face, his knuckles grazed my cheek. Michael’s touch left me wanting, and I tongued the hollow beneath his throat, nibbling along his collarbone. I smiled, hearing his heavy breathing.
His hands came to rest on each side of my face and guided my mouth to his lips, a tender kiss that turned demanding. I steered my arms around him and pried my hands beneath his wet shirt that had clung to his back. His muscles bunched under my fingers.
His hands swept through my lengthy hair and continued onto my backbone. Spine-tingling currents distributed to every nerve ending of my body, and when he came to the hem of my shirt and touched my naked skin, I moaned. My mouth felt deserted as he withdrew to kiss between my eyes and forehead before he abruptly halted.
Turning off the cascading water, he pushed the shower curtain and stepped from the tub. He opened a closet door and handed me a fluffy towel. “I’ll get you dry clothes to change into,” he said, and roughed a towel over his hair with clothes dripping on the floor.
He returned, shirtless and scrubbing the towel over his chest with one hand. In the other, he held a handful of clothes. “These will be too big for you, but at least they’re dry.”
My eyes were hung-up on his muscular chest. Coming to my senses, I looked at the clothes he’d laid next to the sink. When he turned to leave, I spotted the scars on his back again.
Drowning in his jeans and T-shirt, I cuffed up the pant legs, then wound the shirt around my waist and tied it in place. I resembled a ragamuffin with my hair a mass of outrageous tendrils. I rolled my wet clothes into the damp towel. Gathering the jean material at my waist, I warily left the bathroom. With each step, the jeans skated down my hips.
Michael banged shut a dresser drawer and swiveled as I leaned on the door. Stellar blue eyes scrutinized my wardrobe. His mouth flowered into a dimpled smile, and I waited for the laughter. None came.
“You’ll need a belt.” He shuffled through belts hanging from a peg.
“How am I going to explain this?” I said.
He ignored my question as he held up a macramé belt. Submissive, I lifted my arms and let him tie it around my waist.
“How you feeling?” He asked out of the blue.
“Feel? I feel…okay.” The revitalizing motorcycle ride had cleansed away the delusions of Picasso-like images, and my sight and mind seemed to be coming into focus.
“You were slipped a little something at the park.”
“How do you know that?”
“You’d be in bad shape if you’d had another beer or two.”
I’d been experiencing a groovy delirium until Dee and her accusations had blown me away. Increasingly aware of Michael’s piercing eyes, I said, “Is that why you took me for a ride? Not that you really wanted too, but for some stupid reason you felt responsible for me. Like I’m your pesky little sister?”
His brow sharpened over his magnetic eyes. “Not quite.”
In one stride, he caged me in arms. As if I were light as a feather, he swooped me off my feet and carried me to his bed. Buckling us to the mattress, he landed on top of me, though his elbows hampered his crushing weight. Firm hands fastened my shoulders to the mattress, and his lips teased mine.
“Michael,” I breathed his name.
His intensity alarmed me with his insatiable need. Though, I didn’t want him to stop. Not yet. Our kissing turned urgent and experimental while his hands expertly explored the length of my body. His fingers connected with the T-shirt and easily untied the knot. Michael wasn’t ruthless or forcing me against my will as his hands glided under the baggy shirt and then dipped under the baggy waistband of his pants I was wearing. His massaging touch was bringing me to new heights, new sensations. I savored his hotness and basked in his sweltering hold.
What do I want from Michael? This?
His left knee shifted my thigh as he propped himself above me. M
ichael’s dank locks hung over his forehead, and his hooded eyes gazed into my face. “Mary, you have to be more careful of who you’re alone with. Any pervert could take advantage of you.” He had a way of slapping me back to reality.
“Why are you doing this?” I cried. Hurt and feeling duped, I attempted to wiggle out from under him. “Was it you?”
“What?”
“At Putnam’s. It was you?”
“What in the hell are you saying?”
“Don’t lie.”
“I told you what happened. I don’t lie.”
“You know who it was, don’t you?”
Instead of answering, he said, “Don’t you see? You’ve made yourself an easy target for guys like Pender, Putnam, and a gang of twerps I’ve overheard saying crude comments.”
“Get off, Michael.” My hands pressed against his chest. “You’ve made your point.”
He rolled onto his back, flinging an arm over his face, and I bolted upright.
“Don’t you see, Mary,” he said through a jagged breath. “You’re nothing like a sister to me. I want you.” He lowered his arm and sat up, peering at me.
I tried my best not to stare at his nakedness by averting my eyes to his bedspread.
“I’m too old for you.” His hand reached to tug a curl of my hair.
“I’ve heard that line before.” My eyes roved over his hard flat stomach. “You’re only seventeen.”
“Hey, Bambi.”
He braced a hand beneath my chin. And I gazed at his appetizing lips.
“I’d be more than happy to end your virginity, and I’d be gentle. You come to me when you’re ready.”
Stunned, and then infuriated, I raised my hand and walloped his face. The impact yanked his head sideways though he didn’t flinch. Briefly, his eyes closed, and then they snapped open to meet mine.
Was this the reaction he wanted from me? In that instant of atonement, I read it in his eyes. He wants me to hate him. He wants me to think of him as immoral while teaching me a lesson. Beware of stalking mental cases.
“Let’s get out of here.” He sounded guttural as if he was holding something back. He shifted his weight, and the mattress heaved while he scraped hair away from his disconcerted face.
Incense and Peppermints Page 20