When we got back into his truck, I turned to him. "Hey, you want to go to Alton Baker Park? It's such a nice day, seems a shame to waste it. We could hang out a little longer and talk."
It was spontaneous, a bit reckless maybe, to suggest we go to the sight of our first date. Parting ways now would've felt like we were leaving things unfinished. I was tired of the lack of resolution in my life.
His eyes traveled over my face, his expression unreadable. After a moment, his mouth turned up into that lopsided grin again. "Yeah honey, we could do that. Or we could go to my place and have some sex."
My mouth opened and closed, once, twice. "Truman fucking Miller, you did not just proposition me!" I rolled down the window, needing something to break the spell as he pulled his truck into traffic. I did not like the tingle working it's way down my center, or the way my skin heated. And I for damn sure didn't like picturing him naked. I swallowed hard, beating my brain back to reality. I belonged to someone else now. I was grateful when the image of Nick ushered in a more rational thought process.
I risked a glance over at Tru and looked away quickly. His smile said he was kidding, but those eyes were dead serious. If I'd given him even the tiniest opening, we would've been in bed together in record time, husband and girlfriend be damned. The heat of embarrassment turned to one of anger. Hadn't we already covered this territory, long ago?
"Thank God I'm not the kind of woman to fuck around on my man." There was no mistaking the edge in my voice. It worked. Truman had the decency to look contrite.
"Fair enough, darlin'." His muttered words were the last sound until several minutes later.
"I'll be damned. Will you look at that." His deep voice broke the silence as we approached the entrance to the park.
He pointed to an old oak tree with a large chunk missing. Glad for the reprieve, I laughed, remembering the night his asshat of a cousin Doug had rammed his beloved, piece-of-shit car into it in a drunken stupor. The tree survived, but the car had been totaled. He'd been an arrogant, sneering bastard, who'd made my life miserable whenever I'd had the misfortune to be in his presence.
Hearing him beg for rides, knowing he'd had to use the bus when no one could help him out, and watching it all go down for six solid months while he saved up for a replacement was awesome. I'd never felt happier about someone else's bad luck.
Doug. Karma really was a bitch.
CHAPTER SIX
You're not really you
Past~
The chilly breeze wafting through the open window in Truman's bedroom raised goosebumps over my skin and reminded me that autumn had arrived right on time in the Pacific Northwest.
I rolled onto my back, sinking into the soft, worn quilt on his bed and tapped an impatient rhythm on my belly with my fingers. I followed the crisscrossing cracks on the ceiling with my eyes, playing my usual game of attempting to find an unbroken path from wall to wall as I waited. This one hundred-year old house had become as familiar to me as the one I'd grown up in, but I had yet to find that one unbroken line I knew had to be up there somewhere.
Giving up, I rolled over onto my belly, pulling the quilt over my bare legs. When I'd finished class for the day, I'd dumped my books on the bed in my dorm room and rushed over to begin another glorious weekend with the guy I was head-over-heels in love with. Truman been delayed at work as usual, so there I was in his bed, right where I wanted to be, but lying there alone.
I heard voices downstairs but didn't bother to get excited. Truman's distinctive baritone wasn't among them. His mom came from a big family, so there were cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends coming and going at all hours. Cosette had practically adopted me as part of the family and made it clear I was free to come and go as I pleased, just like everyone else. After being with Tru every free minute all summer, I now felt more at home around his family. Except for Pete.
I tensed at the vision of his cold stare. Truman's dad was as intimidating as ever. I shook off the uncomfortable shivers the man gave me, even when he wasn't in the room, and pulled the quilt higher up my body.
The setting sun reflected off of a window on the house next door, beaming bright light onto the wall. I gave up and allowed my eyes to drift closed as I smiled. I was always sad to say goodbye to summer, but I couldn't deny that the first days of fall, when the evenings brought a crisp breeze, were some of the best days of the year.
Now nothing would dampen my mood because I lived in a new world, and it vibrated with energy. I'd landed my high school crush, and I had every reason to believe he was as happy about us as I was. It was so surreal, I had to pinch myself on a regular basis just to make sure this wasn't some elaborate, if ultimately cruel, dream. Colors were more vivid, tastes sharper. Truman's very existence, intercepting mine and drawing me along in some kind of very real tractor beam, had shown me why people loved falling in love. I wanted to be with him in our little bubble as often as possible.
God, even now just the thought of him made me warm in all the right places. He'd coaxed out a version of me I'd never have predicted was there. She was a stark contrast to the insecure, somewhat shy high school grad I'd been when I met him only a few months ago. Truman practically demanded that I learn to let go and appreciate who I was, including my newfound sexuality as a woman.
I was his, but he'd made me work for it. He was protective and intense, sometimes aloof. He made me crave him. He liked it when I begged.
It was no secret that I got off on it.
The sound of his boots stomping up the stairs startled me awake. I rubbed my eyes and grinned, staring at the closed door. When it swung open, my smile faded.
"Hi, baby." He managed a half smile, but there was no enthusiasm in it.
Shit. That voice. I'd heard it more than a few times. It cracked with emotion, the sound hollow and full of despair. My heart ached. He managed a kiss for me before shedding his dusty boots, jeans, and t-shirt.
"Tough day, huh?"
He nodded, fatigue evident in the sag of his shoulders. "Everyone and their mom wants their roof finished before the rains. Fucking fourteen-hour days are killing me. Working with those two bastards hounding me all day, it's like getting kicked in the balls after having my dick cut off."
I shook my head in sympathy. It often took him a full hour to get out of his funk after a rough day working with his dad and uncle. Showering was always first on his agenda when he got home. It wasn't just about the dirt. He scrubbed at his skin sometimes until it was raw, as if there were things under the surface he needed to extract. Did those bastards make him feel dirty inside, too?
I grabbed his hand and squeezed. He squeezed back, his eyes reflecting a pain he was already burying deep, and I nodded. The sadness in his gaze faded away like a wave on the beach. If only it wasn't joining an ocean of stored grief created from years of insults and sarcasm. Tru, being the amazing man he was, managed a wink for me before he turned toward the bathroom. His bare, firmly muscled ass flexed as he walked, and I followed him.
I wanted to keep him company, sure, but watching him shower was one of the highlights of my Friday night. The way the soap ran over his body, coating his bronzed skin, made my mouth water. One benefit from the long hours spent pounding nails and lifting boards was that his incredible physique went beyond phenomenal. He was a walking sculpture of male perfection. I never tired of the thrill in knowing he was mine.
I poked my head around the shower curtain. His eyes were closed against the flow of shampoo down his face, but he turned when the metal rings scraped along the curtain rod and grinned in my direction. "Darlin', you sure know how to pull me out of a funk."
I grinned back, though I couldn't keep my eyes from wandering south. Steam quickly filled the room. I was entranced watching his soapy hands move over his chest, down his abs, and roughly handle his goods. He lathered under his balls and over his flaccid penis, which became less flaccid under my gaze. I licked my lips.
"Enjoying the show?" His eyes dilated under my stare
.
"It's my favorite one, baby." Wetness surged between my legs.
He closed his lids on a long blink. "Fuck...when you look at me like that..."
He kissed me, his damp lips pressing against mine as he leisurely explored my mouth with his tongue. Tru was a world-class kisser. Soft and sensual when he was getting me warmed up, hard and demanding when we were fucking, possessive if there was any other guy around, and contrite when he'd said something that pissed me off. He had a kiss for every occasion, and the only thing they had in common was their effect on me. Whatever my mood, his kisses were the cure.
I pulled him closer, looping my hand around the back of his neck against his wet hair. He'd recently cut it shorter, into a military-style buzz-cut. The prickly feeling of it on my palm reminded me how it felt against the skin on the inside of my thigh, my stomach, my back. I was beginning to think of reasons I might also need a shower when he bit my lower lip gently between his teeth, then let go to step under the spray of water.
He soaped his torso, beefy hands roaming over the smattering of hair down the center of his chest and stomach. His gaze never left mine. I knew he was waiting for me to break when a smile tugged at the corner of his lips and those wandering hands found his hard cock. It was a game of visual chicken. I whimpered at what little I could see in my peripheral vision before I lost the battle and looked down. My mouth dropped open as I watched him fist that beautiful organ between his legs.
"You know I like your eyes on me anytime. But I gotta say, me showering, you with that look on your face...it's my favorite brand of attention." He shook his head, his grin now genuine, and rinsed the rest of the soap from his body. Once the water was off, I handed him a towel. The show was over, but I felt like a winner all the same. I'd made him forget his horrible day, and I'd added more images to my mental photo album.
Back in his room I watched, fascinated with the flexing and stretching of his toned body, as he pulled on a pair of perfectly worn jeans over his legs and a beat up t-shirt with a picture of Johnny Cash on it. The material, tight across his chest, made me want to trace my fingers over the curves of his pecs. I'd done it enough; I knew how good he felt under my hands.
He bent over, surprising me with a scorching kiss—his tongue probing deep, in and out, until I panted, open mouthed and horny. His adorable chocolate eyes were dark with desire and mischief, but instead of fucking me, he tugged on my hand, leading us out of his room and downstairs.
I rolled my eyes as I followed. He dug the anticipation of sex so much, sometimes he'd make me wait for it. The first time it happened, he'd fingered me to near-orgasm right before we had dinner with my mom and little brothers. I was so hot and bothered, I could hardly focus on making intelligent conversation. Tru never let on anything was amiss, impressing my mom with his knowledge of architecture and classic country music, even while he perched his jaw on the fingers he'd had inside me only minutes earlier. Later, when he was moving in me, cock slippery with my cream, his breath hot against my ear, he told me how much he'd loved knowing I was wet for him. He'd confessed he had trouble controlling his dick, even sitting across the table from my family, when all he could think about was my soaked panties.
"My God, Jess, I wanted to rip them off of you, stuff them in your pretty mouth, and fuck you from behind, just to hear your muffled groans when you came."
I'd quit complaining after that. It was our little secret.
We headed straight for the dining room. Tru's dad was sitting at the table, beer in hand, the rest of a six-pack in front of him. Tru grabbed a fresh one and cracked it open.
He'd barely taken a single, long swallow before Pete mumbled, "I hope you have money to pay for that; s'not like you pay for anything else around here."
My hand spasmed in Tru's.
Tru pulled a five out of his wallet and grabbed the remaining four beers off the table. "You bought the cheap shit. That oughta cover it."
He tugged me outside before Pete could say anything else, but the tension in Tru's shoulders was back. We sat in a couple of lawn chairs on the porch. The air had grown more chilly, so I cuddled next to him. He was always warm. He finished the first beer on a long drink and cracked open the second. My heart sank at the obvious direction my Friday was about to take. The hopes I'd had for getting my Tru back after the long week, even for one night, were dashed as I watched him swallow.
"Don't let him get to you." I put my hand on his thigh. The muscles bunched under my palm at the mention of Pete. Tru didn't cover my fingers with his, as he usually did. His expression was as cold as his dad's. I fought a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature outside.
"That bastard doesn't have a fucking thing to do with anything. I just want to enjoy a beer with my girl by my side after a shitty week, OK? I don't need you making drama where there ain't any."
It was bullshit. I was getting used to this—him pushing me away because he couldn't admit his dad was destroying him, slowly, with every glare, shake of his head, and outright evisceration of Tru's character. Tru was in pain. He was too sweet, too open, to be able to hide it. I wasn't swayed by his denial.
"Babe, I'm worried about you. You could do so much better than this life."
Tru snorted. "Like what? You want me to go to college with you? I already told you, I'm not the school type. I haven't cracked open a book since high school."
I sighed, "So what? You have the smarts to do it. Fuck them if they can't support you. I know you can do anything you set your mind to."
He took another long swallow. "Not gonna happen. I make more with my dad and Uncle Matt than I'd ever be able to make somewhere else. It's the only reason I stay with them. I'm saving up so I can get us a place. Then at least I won't have to see the bastard's face when I get off work. Roofers, construction guys...a college degree doesn't mean shit to them. I'd only be getting myself into debt and stuck here that much longer."
I threaded my fingers through his. We'd been over this before. I didn't know how many more times I could say it before he would believe me. "You don't have to work construction, and you don't have to get a degree. Take some classes, get an apprenticeship doing something else if you want. I know you work your ass off, and you're always on time. You're not a complainer. Any boss would be lucky to have you. I don't care what you do, as long as you're happy."
Tru's expression darkened. I knew he was hearing the voice of his father in his head. Pete wasn't happy, and he didn't see the point in his son pursuing it. Wanting to be happy was "weak." Sometimes I was scared I'd entered Tru's life too late. What if the damage was already done? Maybe he'd never see himself the way I did. He'd never know how beautiful he really was.
Tru looped his arm around my shoulders. "My girl from the other side of the tracks. What the hell are you doing with a scumbag like me when you could have some nice preppy boyfriend, driving you around in a nice car, taking you to dinner at a nice restaurant?"
I kissed him on the cheek and pulled his jaw toward me until he met my gaze. "That all sounds very...nice. And mind-numbingly boring. I'm more partial to a certain bad boy who writes me sexy songs I can never repeat in front of anyone else. Who kisses me like we're on the Titanic and it's the last time we'll ever be together." I leaned closer and bit his ear lobe before whispering, "Who makes me wet with a look and fucks me breathless after making me wait for it."
Tru turned his head and sucked on my bottom lip before covering my mouth with his and tangling our tongues together. His hand caressed the side of my jaw, controlling the angle of my head so he could go deeper. He pulled my legs over his thighs and slid his hand down between them, caressing the fabric of my panties under my skirt. I whimpered and arched my hips, urging him closer. Instead, he pulled back, grinning.
"Damn you."
He burst out laughing at my muttered curse, before taking a long swallow of his beer. "Gotta hit the head. Be back."
He stood but paused, looking over his shoulder at me.
"Someday, w
hen the band hits it big, I'm going to give you everything you deserve, sweetheart. We're gonna leave this fucked up life behind, live large, and grow old together."
My heart sank as he walked inside. Tru had phenomenal stage presence, but I couldn't see how he'd ever be a successful musician. I'd watched how Leo spent every waking moment practicing all through high school. It was what had earned him a scholarship to college.
Tru's love of music was equal to Leo's, but Tru didn't have supportive parents, the time to practice, or extra money for lessons. Most importantly, he lacked the crucial ingredient in becoming successful at anything—time and belief in himself. It wasn't fair.
An old beat-up Honda pulled up to the curb, interrupting my thoughts. Fucking Doug. I had to suppress my groan at the sight of Tru's cousin heading toward the porch. I looked behind me to the door, hoping to see Tru, but no dice.
"Well, if it isn't Miss Too-Stuck-Up-To-Be-A-Good-Fuck." He laughed, flashing what everyone probably thought was a charming smile, but his dark gaze could've turned rain into snow in a heartbeat.
I rolled my eyes. Everyone treated him like a prince. He certainly looked the part. He had the same gorgeous masculinity that ran in the Miller blood. Only Doug, with his all-American blond hair and blue eyes, buff body, dazzling white teeth and twin dimples, was an amped-up version of Miller perfection; the child of Pete's shy older sister.
I held my tongue but not my glare. He was goading me, but I'd learned my lesson with Doug. I wasn't going to say anything to make him open his pretty, dirty mouth to spew his hate one minute longer than was necessary. Engaging only meant more of the same. If you weren't gushing over him, you were his enemy, and he treated you accordingly.
Tru emerged from the house, his goofy smile evidence of the pleasant buzz he had already. They did the one-arm-pat-on-the-back man-hug as Doug's tone changed to something resembling friendly. "Hey cuz, what's up?"
I Fell In: A mostly true story about lust, redemption, and true love. Page 9