by Emily Snow
The feeling was dismissed almost immediately, however, when I realized that I didn’t want to have power over Trip. The only thing I ever wanted was him.
I stepped over a log and around a huge boulder, emerging from the treeline into a small clearing. Lisa and I had found the place years before and while I’m sure we weren’t the first nor the last explorers to venture there, it never became a popular destination. There were dozens of hiking trails throughout those woods, and twice as many lookout points along the ridge giving beautiful views of the valley. This spot was more off the beaten path and very secluded, which is why I picked it.
Trip stepped out onto the grass and almost dropped the blankets he’d been holding. There, in the little clearing surrounded by pines and scrub brush, was the turquoise tent I’d set up an hour before. It was the tent I’d used for sleepovers with Lisa in the backyard and “camping trips” with Bruce in the living room. In all the years I’d owned it, it never found its way into actual nature. Until now.
Trip was stunned. “You did this? You came all the way out here lugging that huge thing and set it up yourself?”
I couldn’t have been more proud. “Mm-hmm. Impressed?”
Trip ditched the blankets and candle on a nearby rock, came over and wrapped his arms around me. “Yes. You’re unbelievable.” He kissed me then, made my knees go weak. “It’s gonna be a hell of a night, huh?”
I’ll say.
“I hope so. Hey- crack open that bottle. Let’s have a glass of wine while we watch the sunset.”
I gave Trip the opener from my purse and he went to work on the cork. “Damn. This is a great idea and all, Layla. But I’ve never done this before.” I came over to help, but I had no idea what I was doing either, so between the two of us, we’d managed to get the broken cork into the bottle. No matter, as long as we’d be able to get the wine out, who cared? Trip poured us each a glass, then he followed me through the pines a few feet to the rock ledge. He bounded the few steps up a boulder then held out his hand to help hoist me up. Miraculously, I was able to climb up without spilling my drink all over the front of my dress. We sat down side by side, our elbows and hips touching as I wrapped my legs under me. Trip had his knees up, his arms stretched straight out over them, the glass dangling from between his fingers.
“This is beautiful,” he said, looking out over Norman Valley from his perch at the top of the world.
We were probably about ten minutes too late for a perfect sunset, as we were only able to catch the last hints of pink and purple before the sky went navy. But he was right. It was beautiful. And so much nicer to watch without a sand fight distracting from the show.
The memory panged at my heart, thinking that there’d never be another shared sunrise or sunset for us ever again. I considered the fact that I’d be gone in just fourteen short hours from then, but I buried the thought almost as instantly as it had appeared. I refused to let our last night together be turned into a glum occasion.
We sat there sipping our drinks for a few minutes, unspeaking in the early dark. When our glasses were empty, we hopped off the rock and headed back to our tent. My stomach was in knots, nervous and anticipating what was going to happen next.
Trip lit the citronella bucket I’d packed- brilliant planning on my part, if I do say so myself- offering a soft glow throughout the small clearing and staving off any mosquitos we might encounter out there in the woods. I grabbed the bottle of wine off the ground and Trip grabbed the radio and blankets. We headed into the tent, kicked off our shoes and set up camp. I laid the blankets out over the floor while Trip found us a good station on the radio. The quarters were pretty cramped as we moved around inside the tent, but after we’d set everything up, there was plenty of space for us to both sit across from one another. Trip poured us another round and tucked the bottle into the corner so it wouldn’t spill.
His cerulean eyes looked right into mine as he raised his glass in a toast.
“To Layla. A girl who never stops surprising me.”
My heart just about broke out of my ribcage, but I managed to clink his glass and smile.
“So, what now? We gonna roast marshmallows?” he asked, trying to keep the mood light.
I had no idea if he truly knew what I was up to. Thinking about it made my heart race and turned my palms sweaty. I tried to maintain the conversation along with the grip on my glass. “It’s nice here, right? Lisa and I found this place years ago, but I haven’t been up here in a while.”
Trip took a sip before answering, “It’s great. I’ve hiked the trails through here a bunch of times, but I never came down this way.” He shook his head and laughed out, “I still can’t believe you hauled all this stuff up here on your own.”
“I’m a girl of many talents.”
“Yeahyouare.”
I gave him a shy smile and then promptly changed the subject. “Are you mad that we’re missing Rymer’s party?”
Trip stretched out on his side, propping his head up on his hand. “How could I possibly be mad? Layla, this is awesome.”
“You think Rymer’s gonna be mad?”
He smoothed a hand over my knee and then kissed it. A shudder ran through me at the intimacy of that. He raised his mischievous cobalt eyes and asked quietly, “Layla. Did you really bring me up here just so we could spend our whole night talking about Rymer, for chrissakes?”
Chapter 37
LET HIM HAVE IT
Trip rolled onto his stomach and continued to slide his hands up my legs, his fingertips grazing my thighs at the hem of my skirt while peppering my knees with soft kisses.
My heart did that slamming thing again, watching him kiss me so tenderly and feeling his hands running along the outside of my legs. I combed my fingers through the golden hair above his ear, my palm coming to rest on his nape.
That was all the invitation he needed.
He slid his arm around my waist and pulled me underneath his body, my skirt bunching up above my legs in the process. I could feel the weight of him on top of me and the iron-like vise of his strong arm wrapped around my middle as he lowered his mouth to mine.
There was a sweet taste of wine on his lips mingled with his hot breath and within seconds I was yielding to the perfection of it all. I wrapped my arms around him and I guessed the knee-kissing had gotten him all worked up ahead of time, because I could already feel him harden against me as his mouth opened over mine.
Making out with Trip was always like this. My love for him combined with his hunger for me, the force of which made for spontaneous combustion, this unstoppable thing between the two of us.
I felt myself spinning, wrapping my legs around him and pressing back, and when I heard the moan escape from his throat, I was lost. So lost, in fact, that I hadn’t realized he’d pulled the top of my dress down and was working the clasp on my front-closure bra. I peeled off his shirt before his mouth made its way to my breasts, cupping them with his hands as he licked and played and tormented me with his tongue.
Out of nowhere, his movement stopped.
My eyes flung open in a panic, sure that he’d found my half-naked body revolting, and I looked down to see his chin resting against my chest as he stared up at me. “What?” I asked, anxiety-ridden.
He gave me an evil grin, which, thank God, managed to dispel my insecurities- my fear over his abrupt halt to our makeout session was replaced with instant relief. But then he shocked me all over again when he said, “Take off your clothes. I want to try something.”
I suppressed my astonishment as I watched Trip army-crawl over to the corner of the tent before stripping off my dress and bra under the covers. For the time being, the panties were staying put.
Trip came back, kneeling over me with the half-emptied bottle of wine, and the sight of him hovering over me shirtless was positively dumbfounding. Before I had a chance to process that, he pulled the blanket down, exposing me to my waist.
“Trip!” I said in embarrassed surprise, reaching
down to cover myself up.
His grip on the blanket tightened, denying me. “No. I want to look at you.”
I was feeling incredibly exposed, but thankfully, it was pretty dark inside our tent. Besides, when Trip Wilmington tells you to take off your clothes, you don’t think about it. You just do it. And if he tells you he wants to look at you? You thank your lucky stars that he must see something about you that he likes. You lie there, trying to act laid-back, as if getting naked with the eighth wonder of the world is an everyday occurrence for you. You send up prayers of gratitude to the gods of good fortune... and then you let him look.
His smile was wicked as his eyes ran the length of me. Without another word he bent over to kiss me again, as his hand trailed down the center length of my body from my lips down to my belly button, searing me in half. He raised himself up and before I knew it, he’d drizzled some wine into the hollow of my throat; the cool, gold liquid forming a rivulet down the same path his hand had just taken. He put the bottle down and lowered his lips and tongue to my neck, tasting the droplets away with his hungry mouth. He took his time, working his way from my throat, down the center of my chest, kissing and licking all the way down to my abdomen.
I giggled when his tongue tickled my belly button, which made him laugh, too. I took the opportunity to skootch down and kiss him on the lips, before announcing that it was my turn.
Trip stretched out on his stomach and I tipped the bottle, drizzling a stripe down his back. I started kissing him between his shoulder blades and followed the route of his spine with my tongue. The wine had pooled into a little well at the small of his back, which I licked away from his jeans as I ran my hands over the muscles at his shoulders. He gave a grunting laugh, obviously enjoying his torment.
I thought it was so incredibly exotic what we were doing to each other, leisurely sipping wine from one another’s skin. Like we were some sophisticated married couple vacationing at a five-star hotel on the Riviera and not just two kids in a tent out in the woods of Jersey. It felt so wild and thrilling and so extremely grown-up, the two of us there alone, tasting each other like it was the most familiar thing in the world. I mean, it’s not like I thought grown-ups spent all their free time drinking booze off of each other’s naked bodies, but I definitely felt like Trip’s and my makeout session was a little more intimate than just your average pair of teenagers, getting drunk off a bottle of Boonsfarm and necking out in the woods. I didn’t think the effect would have been quite so drugging had we cracked open a few cans of Meister Braus before sticking our tongues down each other’s throats.
Trip rolled over and threw an arm around me, taking my body underneath his before burying his head in my neck. His mouth was at my ear, his hands were everywhere else. I was starting to feel the slight effects of the alcohol, but not enough to deaden my encroaching nervousness about the situation. I kept thinking that at any moment, my panties were destined to join my dress in a pile in the corner and then there’d be no turning back from there.
I made myself remember that that was the reason I’d brought him there in the first place and the thought fortified my resolve. I put my hands at the side of his face and he took the cue, sliding his body up the span of mine and kissing my mouth again. But this time, he pressed his hardened length so intimately between my legs that I thought we’d both go up in flames.
I knew things were moving too fast, but I didn’t stop him. The more he moved against me, the more I convinced myself I wanted him to. I didn’t recognize my own hands as I watched them unbuttoning his jeans and sliding down his zipper. His hands were braced on either side of my head, his face trying to gauge just what in the hell I was doing. His eyes were dark, wild, questioning, searching.
“Layla?” he scratched out, one word asking if this was really happening. Asking for permission.
I ran my hands up his chest in answer and met his eyes with my own. Wordlessly, silently, he found confirmation there and quickly went about the task of stripping the rest of the way down. I slipped out of my panties as Trip maneuvered himself on top of me, under the blanket.
His mouth was at my breast and my hands were in his hair as he fumbled with the condom out of my sight. I thanked God that Trip had one in his wallet. It was the one thing I hadn’t taken care of ahead of time, assuming that guys just always carried those things on them at all times. Thankfully, it turned out I was right in this case. I hadn’t registered what a gamble that had been until after he’d put it on.
By then, my heart was beating like mad, my nerves were a tangled mess. Instead of allowing myself to appreciate how awesome it felt to have Trip kissing me, touching me, melting for me, my brain refused to turn off. Normally, making out with Trip was amazing. Feeling his lips and body pressed against me was the most insanely remarkable experience in the world. But this time, all I could think about was how every kiss, every touch was leading us toward a much bigger destination, and I was terrified.
As freaked out as I was, it would have completely sucked to have come all the way up there just to not have sex. So I had no illusions about what was going to happen.
Chapter 38
TREMORS
Once he got positioned, the reality of the situation hit me like a bag of bricks. Things had suddenly become very real, and instead of acting like the irresistible vixen I’d assumed I’d play, I was suddenly struck by the magnitude of what we were going to be doing.
I didn’t get to think too much about it, because the next thing I knew, Trip was inside me.
Damn! It really hurt!
It felt so awkward and painful and my body flinched and I gritted out, “Ow!” but Trip must have thought I was moaning in ecstasy or something because he started making noises of his own against my ear. I tried telling myself to relax... I figured I was only in pain because I was so tensed up and panicky. But instead, my traitorous body started to rack with uncontrollable trembling and I could not, for the life of me, make it stop. Trip was kissing me, his tongue buried in my mouth, his erection buried between my legs, when he finally registered my frazzled nerves and asked, “Are you alright?”
How to explain? I dragged him up there, I planned the whole night, I wanted this to happen. There was no way to turn back now. Not that I wanted to, but it was just that I was so scared at that moment. “I’m fine.”
He went back to kissing me, but the shivering wouldn’t stop. He raised his torso above me on unsteady arms. “Layla, you’re shaking. You sure you’re alright?”
I thought about tossing out a line like, “Better than alright” or some such movie nonsense, but the truth was, I wasn’t prepared for my first time to be that uncomfortable; after only one short minute into my life as a non-virgin, it felt like I was being ripped in two.
I decided to be honest. “Trip, I’m sorry. I want this to happen, I really do. I just... It’s just that I’m so nervous!”
Trip slid out of me with a grunt and rolled over, but still he pressed close against my side. He pulled the blanket up around us, trying to get me to stop shaking. “Don’t be sorry. It’s our first time together.” He let out a little laugh and continued, “I mean, truth be told, I’m a little nervous, too. Was I rushing it?”
I put an arm across my face to stop myself from crying at the sweetness of his words. “God, no, Trip, not at all. You’re...”
Amazing. Incredible.
“...You’re doing everything right, really. I guess I’m just freaked out because it’s my first time, you know?”
Trip started to say that it was alright, but then abruptly, he sat up just then and looked at me.
“Wait. You mean our first time, right? As in you and I have never done this with each other, right?”
I looked at Trip like he was from another planet. What, did he think I’d been sleeping around? “What do you mean?”
“I mean Cooper Benedict, Layla. Don’t try and tell me you guys never-”
His face changed just then as his jaw went slack and understandin
g dawned across the rest of his features. “Oh, Jesus. You’re telling me that this is, that you and me, that you never-”
“Yeah,” I said, embarrassed. “I thought you knew.”
He let out with a heavy breath and then settled back in against my side. He threw an arm across my waist and pulled me close against him, whispering in my ear, “Layla, I’m so sorry. I would have- I wouldn’t have just- Jesus! I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
My body had stopped shuddering by then, but the tenderness of his apology and the way he was holding me started the tears flowing. I swiped at my face, trying to disguise my emotional outburst. Jeez, I’d gone from sex kitten to bundle of nerves to weeping crybaby inside of five minutes. Trip was going to think I was psychotic. “Don’t be sorry. You were great, really. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before. I just thought you knew.”
“I should have known. Layla, I never- Babe, wait. Are you crying?”
I answered without thinking, “No,” which was an obvious lie.
Trip rolled over, angling the top half of his body over mine, looking me in the eyes.
“Oh, God. Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He dropped his face to mine, kissing my tears away, whispering his apologies over and over again. His lips found mine, kissing me so gently, so sweetly.
He peppered his kisses with softly spoken avowals of affection, everything from “I’m sorry” to “I’m an idiot” to “Did I hurt you?” But the one that really got me, the one that just about completely killed me, was when he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and whispered, “You know I’m crazy about you, right?”