Full Measures

by Rebecca Yarros

  There was something soft against my back. Oh, the bed. Yeah, that was right. His weight came over me, and it was the most exquisite pressure I’d ever felt. My neck arched back as he put his mouth to my breasts, his hands stroking up and down my body, igniting fires so scorching I thought I’d combust.

  My hands gripped the comforter, twisting it viciously as my head thrashed back and forth and my hips began to move on their own accord. I wanted—needed him to touch me. “Josh—”

  “I know.” I could have cried with relief when he tugged down my pj’s. I lifted my hips and awkwardly shimmied out of them, but I didn’t care. They were off! His hands ran up my calves, stroking behind my knees, and then over the tops of my thighs.

  He drew his body over mine, our skin sliding in friction so delicious I tingled. Our open mouths met in a brutal kiss as his hand slid down my waist, and finally—finally!—slipped under my panties. I raised my hips into his hand, silently begging, and he groaned against my mouth. He slid his fingers along my core, dipping in to where I knew I was soaking wet. “Fuck. Ember.”

  An unintelligible sound escaped me when he brushed against my clit, sparks flying through my body. I grabbed onto him, my fingers digging into the taut skin of his shoulders, distorting the tattoo on his right. He felt so good under my hands, necessary.

  Again and again he stroked me, until I could taste how much I wanted him. I whispered his name, and he kissed me sweetly as he slid one finger inside me. My hips bucked, wanting more—needing more. He understood my garbled plea, slipping another finger in and stretching me. “You’re so damn tight. Perfect.” Pleasure webbed through me, low and deep, stringing me up tight until the muscles of my thighs locked and everything within me tensed. In and out, he stroked my body like he was playing an instrument, knowing exactly when to give more and when to hold back.

  He dropped his head next to mine, his breathing ragged in my ear as fine tremors ran through me. My fingers clenched his skin. I needed something, anything. I couldn’t survive this tense, reaching and straining. “Josh, please—”

  He kissed my cheek softly, and then pressed his thumb to my clit as he pinched my nipple lightly with his other hand. I flew apart.

  The tension within me exploded, scattering everything in my world except him. He stroked me through my orgasm and brought me down gently, knowing just where to touch to kick back my aftershocks.

  It was a full minute before I returned to my senses. “Holy shit, Josh.” I turned my head and kissed him between our gasping breaths. “I’ve never—that was—I don’t—”

  The sexiest smile I’d ever seen played across his mouth, and the pale moonlight in the room made his eyes seem darker, more secretive. “Yeah.” That one word held the answers to every question slipping through my mind.

  I reached down his stomach, ready to unzip his pants, which were now bulging out at an angle that had to be uncomfortable, but he stopped my hand, pulling it back to his mouth for a kiss on my palm. Shivers raced through me. “Ember.”

  No? Surely he didn’t mean no. He did not just give me the first orgasm of my life and then tell me “no.” “What’s wrong?” I trailed my other hand down the rigid line of his tasty abs before he captured that one, too.

  “We’re not doing that tonight.” If it weren’t for the sheer determination on his face, I would have tried to sway him. Instead, a tidal wave of humiliation washed over me.

  “You don’t want me?” I barely squeaked it out. This wasn’t happening.

  He kissed my fingers and shifted his hips so his erection nearly cut into me. “Trust me, I want you. I want you more than oxygen at this point.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” I looped my naked leg over his hips, and he hissed.

  “Fuck, could you make this any harder?” he growled.

  I giggled. “That’s the plan, right?”

  He let out a sigh of exasperation and untangled himself, pulling my back against his chest, careful to keep his hips clear. “I want this; I want you, Ember. But tonight is about you, not us. You needed this, and I’m fucking ecstatic to give it to you, but we’re not doing this.” He pushed his hips against my ass, and I groaned, wanting him inside me. “Until it’s about us, and no one else.”

  Us? I couldn’t think about that. There wasn’t any more room in my head.

  Exhaustion drooped my eyelids. Now I understood why girls said orgasms made them sleep better. At least that’s what Kayla had said. Whatever. I sincerely doubted Riley had an ounce of the skill Josh just used on my body.

  Josh covered us with the blankets, and with the last of my energy, I reached back around me and slid my hand over his back and under his jeans so I could feel that gorgeous ass.

  His laugh nearly broke me into a pit of need again. He slowly pulled my hand out, held it in his own, and wrapped his arm around my body, cocooning me. “Stop trying to take advantage of my virtue,” he teased, his breath evening out.

  I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

  Chapter Six

  Bacon sizzled in the pan, popping grease onto my forearm and burning. “Crap.” I brushed the oil off me and turned another piece before I gave it the chance to do it again. The clock on the wall said it was ten in the morning, but the time in my stomach said “feed me or die.” I was a hungry hangover kind of person. Nothing two Tylenol and a glass of water wouldn’t help when they took effect. I just wished I wasn’t begging God for them to take effect already. Damn, my head hurt.

  I snagged two plates out of the cabinet and loaded them with the finished bacon before I fried up the eggs. The rhythmic scrape, scrape, scrape told me Josh had finished snow blowing the driveway and was now shoveling out the walk. Of course, when I’d woken up alone, I figured the guy had made the mad dash out of here because I’d attempted to jump him last night.

  Last night. That was what everyone raved about when they whispered about sex. Now I got it. I’d always wanted to have sex. I wasn’t a prude, but Riley had assured me we’d have plenty once we were married. Why not save it for then? Keep the first years of our marriage hot, perfect? Looking back, kissing Riley was fun, he was good at it, but kissing Josh was like a freaking fire caught me and scorched until I burst into flames. There was really no comparison.

  Shit. I was burning the eggs. I slid them onto the plates just as the toast popped up. A little butter and we were ready to rock. Right on cue, Josh opened the front door and quickly shut it once he was inside.

  I avoided his gaze as he slid off his boots on the entry rug and hung his coat on the peg. I pulled the sugar and powdered creamer out of the cabinet as the coffee finished brewing. Hey, I’d been lucky we’d had eggs here since Mom had been up with Gus and April a couple weeks ago. “Coffee?” I asked without looking at him, stretching on tiptoes and still unable to reach the cups.

  “Perfect, thanks,” he responded, sliding behind me to take the cups down. I leaned away from him and carried our plates to the table, juggling silverware under them. I’d never really had a “morning after,” but I assumed that was what this icky, awkward feeling was. What was he thinking? Was he angry about last night? Had he wanted more? Had he wanted less?

  I kept my head down as I walked past him, concentrating on the pattern of the hardwood floor until I got to where Josh had already poured the coffee. Sugar, yes. Cream, more. I preferred a little bit of coffee with my cream and sugar.

  “Ember.” He was right behind me. The spoon clanged against the counter as I accidentally dropped it. Big breath. “Turn around,” he ordered softly.

  I had done big girl things last night, and now I had to be a big girl today. I turned, keeping my eyes locked on the way his hoodie settled around his really nice hips. He stepped forward, fitting us together, and my traitorous lower half melted right into him.

  He gently lifted my face to meet his eyes, just like he had last night. I was lost. The sun streamed through the window, bringing out the golden flakes in his eyes, a stark contrast to the jet black of his skull
cap. “Good morning,” he whispered.

  I gave a nervous smile that I’m pretty sure came out more like I was baring my teeth. “Hi.”

  He searched my eyes for long, tense moments, looking for answers I didn’t know how to give. “Yeah,” he whispered, like he was answering his own question.

  He took possession of my mouth in a scorching kiss, cradling my head in his hands and moving his tongue to the same rhythm he’d used with his fingers inside me last night. I went limp in two seconds, flat. He pulled back with a grin, then kissed me softly. Once. Twice. “This is not awkward unless you let it be.” His raised eyebrows and smile nearly did me in. “I’m not going to let it be awkward. I want you too much for that.”

  My eyes darted away. The day after finding my boyfriend, shit, ex-boyfriend sleeping with my roommate was not the time to jump into something new. “Josh—”

  “No, no excuses. I want you, and you’re not ready for me. You’re not ready for anything.” He tucked back a strand of hair that had escaped my messy bun.

  I shook my head, breaking his grip. “Last night, I don’t know what happened. I just needed . . . I needed . . .”

  “To feel alive.”

  My gaze jerked back to his. He nailed it right on the head. “Yes, and I guess . . . I used you.” Guilt swamped me as the truth of my words cut through what had been the fog of my thoughts.

  He laughed. “Come on. You don’t think I knew that?”

  “N-n-no.” This was not how I’d seen this weekend going.

  He leaned back against the opposite counter, and I immediately missed his warmth. “You needed to feel alive. Your dad died, and I get that. It’s a pretty common reaction, really.” His hands rubbed over his face like he was waking himself up. “And after what happened with Riley last night, I wasn’t surprised that you needed to feel desired, too.”

  “So you let me just . . .” My eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because you needed me to. You’re so busy taking care of everyone else, you can’t see that someone needs to take care of you. So tell me what you need, and I’ll be that for you.”

  Speechless. Somehow the resident bad boy had turned into this . . . man, and the guy I’d lusted for all freshman year was offering himself to me. I reached for a little snark, something to save me from the brutal honesty he was dishing out, but there was nothing I could find. “I don’t even know what I need.”

  “That’s okay with me. The minute you realize that it’s okay with you, too, you can start digging out of what’s been thrown at you. There’s no pressure.”

  A few weeks ago I’d never have pegged Josh Walker as someone to take care of me. That job belonged to Dad, to Riley. I ducked my head and concentrated on my breakfast. The silence was easy, but charged with what was unsaid. It was a combination I wasn’t used to.

  “Vanderbilt, huh?” He nodded to the letters plastered across my chest on my favorite, worn-out hoodie.

  “Yeah.” I pushed the stretched-out sleeves up over my forearms.

  “There’s a picture in the hallway with you in a Vanderbilt shirt, your dad, too.” His tone left answering up to me. I knew he was curious, but not intrusive.

  “It’s where my dad graduated from, where I always dreamed of going. It was our thing, I guess, since I was born while he was in medical school there. I think my first sleeper was from Vanderbilt.” I looked up from my plate and caught his eyes. It was still surreal that Josh Walker was in my cabin, eating breakfast with me. More surreal that he’d kissed me. Touched me.

  “Why didn’t you go?”

  I swallowed back the twinge of bitterness that always accompanied this question, especially when my father had asked me. “Riley got into CU early admission, and that’s where he wanted to go.”

  “Did you get into Vanderbilt?” He leaned slightly toward me over his empty plate.

  I moved my eyes back to my disappearing eggs. “I didn’t bother applying. Riley didn’t think a long-distance relationship would work.”

  “Did you?”

  I shrugged. “Apparently a same-school relationship couldn’t work.”

  “Do you think long-distance relationships work?”

  I grabbed my empty plate and stood. “Why the twenty questions, Josh?”

  He looked up at me through his lashes, and I almost forgot what I asked. “Just trying to understand you. Do you think those relationships work?”

  “I think people who love each other, like genuine love, can make it, sure.” I headed for the kitchen and swore I heard him sigh. “But after seeing what my mom went through time and time again, I know it’s not what I would ever choose.”

  He snuck up behind me and gently stole the plate from my hand. “I get that. I can’t imagine always waiting.”

  I watched him methodically wash the dishes, and I took them to dry, putting them back in the cabinet for the next time we’d make it up here. “It’s not the waiting that gets me, not anymore. It’s the not knowing if he would come home. I won’t live like that. I can’t put everything in my life on hold, not like she did. Everything she did was about my father, and now what does she have? She’s a train wreck.” I turned around and found him leaned back against the counter. We were nearly in the same position we had been when he’d kissed me last night. I closed my eyes briefly, failing to rid myself of the images. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on and on.”

  He stepped forward, eliminating the space between us. “I told you. You don’t need to apologize. If you need to talk, I’ll listen.”

  He caged me in his arms, making escape, if I had wanted one, impossible. I leaned back enough to tilt my head and see him. “You don’t owe me anything.” Blood rushed to my cheeks. “I’m so sorry about last—”

  “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Josh said, his voice was flat, final. “Never apologize to me for something I wanted so badly I could practically taste you before we even left your house.” He raised his hand, the back of his fingers grazing down my cheek, leaving chills in their wake. His gaze dropped to my lips and that smile was back on his face, sending “go” signals straight to my thighs. “Oh, and December?” His lips brushed against mine, and every fiber of my being reacted. “Feel free to use me again any time.”

  Chapter Seven

  It was Monday morning and, darn it, I was determined to make pancakes. We always had pancakes Sunday morning, but up until now I’d forgotten. We’d all forgotten. Dad had been gone three weeks now, and we’d already let so much slip. Some things had to return to . . . whatever this new normal was. I dragged my Vanderbilt hoodie on over my tank top and headed into the kitchen, ready to rock out breakfast before April and Gus came down for school. I’d checked on Mom earlier, but she didn’t look any closer to living than she had when I’d left on Friday.

  Dad’s copy of The Joy of Cooking bore an earmark at the pancake page. It was slightly marred by drops of egg and milk. He’d let us help no matter how messy we were. I stroked the dried bits of paper with my fingertips like I could jump back into those moments.

  I grabbed the eggs and butter from the fridge, then went to wash my hands. Ugh. Yesterday’s dishes were stacked up in the sink. I’d have to leave them for later, once the kids were at school. I folded my sleeves up on my forearm, revealing Josh’s number in permanent marker. I couldn’t control the smile that lit my face. He’d taken the Sharpie from his glove box and gently etched his name and number onto my arm. When I’d asked why—I already had his number on Gus’s hockey roster—he’d dropped that smoldering look on me.

  “Gus has my number because I’m his coach. Now you have it because I’m your whatever.”

  “My whatever?”

  The soft kiss he’d placed on my lips had me leaning in for more. “Whatever you need me to be,” he whispered against my mouth. He’d opened my door and brought my bag up the walk. “It’s not so easy to wash off,” he added, “and neither am I.”

  My cheeks flushed with the memory, and I scrubbed around the mark,
hesitant to wash over it. I called up the stairs to wake Gus and April. Crap, I sounded like Mom. I flipped the spatula in agitation. Of course I sounded like her; I had stepped right into her morning role.

  Gus thundered down the stairs in his favorite, faded Star Wars hoodie, and I promptly had breakfast on the table. “Ember! You rock!” He was covered in syrup in fifteen seconds, flat.

  April walked in, her hair picture perfect, and scoffed. “Like I’m going to eat those carbs first thing in the morning?”

  I held my tongue, which took every bit of effort I had. She passed me at the kitchen island, wearing skinny jeans and a sweater. She had lost weight, too much for her slight frame. Yeah, it was all the rage to be skin and bones, but the girl needed a cheeseburger. “If you eat carbs now, you have all day to burn them off,” I suggested. She stuck her tongue out at me, and I noticed her righteously awesome pair of new equestrian boots. “Christmas?”

  She shrugged, snagged the orange juice from the fridge, and poured herself a glass. I grabbed Gus’s Obi-Wan lunch box and packed him up for the day, trying to remember everything Mom did. “Do you have your folder and homework?” He nodded with his mouth full. “Cool. Finish up and wash that face of yours, you sugary mess.” I pretended to eat his cheek and was rewarded with giggles. We needed more giggles.

  While he and April finished prepping their day, I tried to think of what Mom did on Mondays. It was her “get stuff done” day, I knew that much. I pulled The Brain from the shelf, checking the calendar. Hockey today for Gus. I would see Josh.

  Pushing the butterflies out of my stomach, I flipped to the back where she kept her lists. Here we go. Thank God Mom was predictable in her schedules. Mondays were groceries, errands, week prep, and bills. Bills.

  I turned to the stack of mail that had sat unopened these last weeks. It consumed the kitchen work desk and was dangerously close to playing a game of fifty-two-envelope pickup. This was going to suck. Time to dig in.

  I sorted it into magazines, catalogs, ads, bills, and the dozens of personal cards that had arrived in droves. Bills would be the most pressing. I could make out all the amounts if Mom could manage to sign them. I cut open the first bill, a credit card, and scanned it. Five thousand dollars! I had no clue Mom and Dad even had credit card debt.