Red: Fiery Finale (Spectrum Series Book 8)

by Allison White

  She keeps repeating it, “No, no, can’t…please, no…” It sounds pained and filled with burning desire. I want her to push the hesitance away, cave in to my touch. I want to kiss her, and so I hover my lips over hers again. Listen to her swallow and begin to push forward to claim her lips with mine, when something behind her eyes finally snaps and she pushes me back.

  I stumble back and watch her pant for air like she’s on the very verge of passing out and dying. “What—?”

  “I said no, Noah,” she says firmly, jaw locked, eyes soft.

  I think I begin to tear up, and I look away from her burning eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Did I force myself on you?”

  “Oh shush, you didn’t. I wanted you,” she says, and when I look at her again, I find her rolling her eyes.

  My heart lifts, and I walk over to her. “So why push away? Why are you always pushing me away?” My voice cracks. Why does it always do this around her?

  Her brows curve, and her mouth drops open, hand reaching for my cheek longingly. I lay my head under her small but fully capable palm. “I…I don’t…” she stammers, then sighs and says more firmly, “I should set you down. You can barely stand up.”

  I want her to kiss me, but I guess I can lay down too. For now.

  Lying on the bed, I grab a pillow and hug it. The soft pillowcase is bursting with her natural odor, so much so I smile and hug it tighter. The bed dips slightly with added weight, and I know she’s looking at me, how is the question, but I like her eyes watching me. I feel more at peace than I have in a long, long while.

  But there’s something missing.

  “Lay with me?” I look up at her staring down at me. Her cheeks warm with a deep red as I catch her watching me.

  “I don’t think I should—”

  “Please,” I add, pouting.

  She looks like she’s going to say no, but she surprises me by huffing and laying on her back. I smile broadly and wrap my arms around her, tug her into my chest. She’s facing me but quickly turns. I don’t mind. I get to smell her now without looking like a total creep.

  Moments of peace and silence pass, and I bask in it, bask in the soft rise and fall of her smaller body against mine, as I basically cover every inch of her. I have my nose nuzzled in her neck. There are moments in one’s life that have impacts on who they are and how they go on about love. Sometimes it’s the loss of a loved one; other times it’s getting into your top college. For me, in this very moment, it’s holding this girl in my arms. Simply. Purely. Wholesomely. Holding her.

  “You should move on, Noah. I’m no good for you.” Her broken voice breaks the silence, the peace, my moment. But I’m not upset. I can’t be, not when I am holding her.

  “There is no such thing as moving on, love,” I tell her in a soft voice.

  “Yes, there is, and you should move on. From me,” she insists.

  I shake my head defiantly. “There is no ‘moving on.’ Not really. ‘Moving on’ is just surviving each day without the one person who actually means something in this messed-up world. ‘Moving on’ is pretending that there isn’t a seismic hole in your chest that no other person could ever fill. Moving on…moving on is a damn lie people like to live by because without it, they’re just a bitter person stuck on the person who left them when they give them their all.

  “And there is no moving on from you because you’re what I want in my life. And trying to forget you is like trying to capture my love for you in a jar. It’s impossible because I can’t see it, just feel it.”

  Silence wraps around us like a cocoon. I can only hear her slow, deep breaths and feel her body warm up. I flutter my eyes as I breathe in her calming aroma.

  “Are you bitter?” she asks softly after a while.

  I pause, thinking, but shake my head. “I’m sad. I’m a sad, pathetic boy, Red.”

  She stiffens and remains still for a few moments before turning to face me. Her eyes are covered in wetness, fingers nimble against her cheeks. They brush against my skin, and all I can seem to do is breathe and smile. “You are not pathetic, Noah. You are…you are the brightest light on the darkest day.”

  “Are you the darkness?” I ask.

  She glances at my pouty lips as she nods silently.

  I squeeze her hips, and her mouth parts. “Then I don’t wanna be the light.” I shake my head.

  “Why not?” she croaks.

  I hum and lean my forehead against hers. “Because I’d wash you out. And I wanna see every inch of you…” I breathe her in and melt into exhaustion’s fingertips clawing at my scalp. “You are the most beautiful creature, Red. Inside and…” I fall into the dark before I can finish, and as I do, I burn out every candle in me so I can be alone in the comforting dark with her. Hands covering hers, lips against her cold skin. I’d stay here in the cold for an eternity if it means I’m with her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Red

  He is the first thing I see when I wake up. The industrial-styled clock on the bedside tells me it’s eight now. I need to get ready for work, but I can’t find the controls for my limbs. Nor do I want to move from this view of my Noah. Even if he isn’t really mine anymore, I had a taste of him last night. I felt a flash flood of his warmth spread through every bone in my body. Sensed my heart fluttering like a bee enthusiastic to pollinate. I felt so whole, more than I’ve felt in months.

  I know it’s selfish to say, but I don’t want to let go of him. Don’t want him to let go of me. Physically and figuratively. This, him flushing our bodies together almost instinctively, makes my heart feel full again. I feel like I am finally breathing, and I like what I smell when I inhale—home. He is my home, always has been. From the moment I saw him, I felt the jump of my heart, my body sparking alive. I’d been lifeless before he let me into his bright life.

  “You are the brightest light on the darkest day,” I’d told him seriously. I’d never experienced someone practically overflowing such high energy.

  “Are you the dark?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Then I don’t wanna be the light.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’d wash you out. And I wanna see every inch of you…”

  My heart melts into mush, not because of his sweet words, but because I didn’t want that for him. I don’t ever want that for him. Him being trapped in the dark with no way out, no hope for escape. Down here in the dark, there is nothing but an icy chill and the finality that you don’t deserve anything more than shit. You don’t deserve love or happiness or whatever makes you want to live on.

  He deserves the best of the best. He deserves to keep shining on and painting his beautiful paintings; he deserves to be his ultra-violet self with someone who actually deserves it. I don’t deserve even looking at him right now, gently caressing his cheek with my finger. I trace his sharp jaw and journey across his soft cupid’s bow.

  But I stop when a tear falls down my cheeks. I need to stop. So, with a heart the size of my sun, I pull away and get ready for work. For half of the day, I’ll be sitting in on a meeting with Ellis and the guy who owns this hotel, taking notes and compiling files and whatever for Noah’s dad. He isn’t too much of a prick…to other’s knowledge. But I know him, and geez, the man is despicable. I wonder if Noah knows…

  I push the thought away. I don’t want to think about that man while I’m showering. I let the hot water pound against my body for a long time. I bask in my muscles constricting and loosening. But I can’t stay any longer; I need to get ready. And I have to prepare myself for my second half of my workday, spending time with Noah.

  While Ellis deals with the numbers and logistics, Noah is surveying the town and the potential places the hotels and resorts can go. My heart stammers, and a smile threatens my relaxed mouth, thinking about discovering the beautiful island with him.

  I have to remind myself, as I have before coming here, that this is just for work. This is not a vacation or our honeymoon—again,
my heart is soaring like a freaking meteorite—this is a work trip. Work being the operative word here. I can’t get lost in the fog in my head. I have to be professional.

  How professional of me, I think bitterly as I exit the bedroom, sleeping with the boss’ son. Not literally…oh, how that would have been something…stop, Red! Jesus Christ! Professionalism, remember?

  “Horny bitch,” I mutter before padding over to my carry-on bag. But can I blame myself? I haven’t had anything in four months. The last time someone touched me that way was the night before I fucked everything up and sideways.

  My mouth is bitter as I remember how perfect everything was. We had made love together and the feelings he brought me, his large hands on my hot skin, how he felt in me…

  “Fuck,” I curse to myself as I pull on my stockings. I think I just got wet. I don’t want to check with Noah behind me on the bed, sprawled out like that. Sometime in the night he had gotten too hot and flung his shirt off, and now he’s topless. Back up. His tanned muscular back on display. They ripple and his biceps bulge as he grabs the pillow I used last night.

  My heart stops, and I have to change my panties when he moans my name.

  When I am finally dressed in my uncomfortable clothes, I quickly leave before I have to change my underwear again. And again if he had rolled over, morning boner very much present, like it was the morning after we’d…

  Oh, I have to get the hell out of here. Now.

  Ellis is sitting in one of the chairs in the lobby, dark hair tousled, blue eyes vibrant and looking me over with a tip of his lips. “Noah wasn’t in his room last night; do you happen to know where he was?”

  “Probably with you and your lay,” I respond, raising a challenging brow. His rakish face twists in confusion until I stare at his pants, feigning boredom in a sigh. He follows where I’m looking and smiles as he plucks the pink lacy panty that was peeking out of his pocket.

  He smiles. “Touché.”

  ***

  Noah

  The sunlight acting like a laser beam wakes up me up with a grunt. My breath stinks like shit rolled around in the sewers, and it makes me cringe back away from it in a desperate attempt to flee. Bad idea. The next thing I know, I hit the ground. Hard. My eyes snap shut as pain radiates at the base of my lower back and slithers up my spine.

  “Holy fuck,” I groan loudly. I reach out and pull myself onto my knees. Jesus fucking damn, that hurt like a bitch! I squeeze my eyes closed and rub them, trying to erase the pain throbbing between my ears, but it does nothing but make my eyeballs hurt.

  Fuck me. What did I drink last night?

  Listening to my grumbling stomach and light head, I’m gonna guess: everything under the stars. I push myself to my weak limbs and stagger into the bathroom. I fall on my knees in front of the pristine toilet and empty my stomach into the bowl. I puke and puke until there’s nothing left and my throat burns. I flush it and gargle half of a bottle of minty-flavored Listerine.

  I don’t realize I’m not in my room until I almost step onto a black bra. I rake my head for last night’s events. I don’t remember leaving with anyone, but maybe I did and I just don’t remember it…?

  I begin to freak out and whirl around in a circle, unsure of what to do or think. I haven’t so much as touched another girl sexually in months. Sleeping with another girl would mean that I’m moving on, and I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.

  Moving on…hmmm, why does that sound familiar?

  I move to grab my shirt off the floor when I see the combat boot laying on its side. I pick it up and feel a ripple of warmth and a tingling sensation in my stomach. Memories of last night appear behind my eyes. I see myself dancing at the party down by the beach, and then I’m riding up in the hotel elevator. I visualize Red opening her door, and her mouth is warm, so warm against mine. We kissed…? I touch my lips and actually feel her soft lips grazing mine. Grazing. That’s all we did, no actual kiss. Then tell my flipping stomach that.

  Anyway, I remember her pulling away before we could kiss. I remember feeling gutted but strangely tranquil the next few seconds. I’m puzzled how I can go from feeling kicked in the gut to completely peaceful in such a short time…until I can practically smell her strawberry-scented hair, coconut-lotion slathered skin. Until I can feel her hot, smooth skin, matching my slow breathing with hers.

  I held her last night until I fell asleep.

  And then I remember telling her I wanted to stay in the dark with her. How I’d give up being the light, having everything that makes me happy on paper to be with her, the one who truly makes me happy, in the dark. I remember thinking of cold lips and warm kisses. And then…nothing. And my head hurts, and I want to sit down, but I’m frozen, holding this damn shoe with a damn owner who frazzles me constantly.

  But I won’t remain in the dark any longer. I am going to pull us both to the light, goddamn it. She can be so dramatic sometimes; we don’t have to be in the dark to be true. The light displays everything with clarity; it’ll keep us warm and sane, unlike the still silence in the dark.

  Determined to bring us out of this strange limbo we’re trapped in, I drop her shoe and grab my shirt. I pull it on and look at my phone screen. I have a text from a few friends and one unknown text. I ignore them all and stuff my phone in my back pocket and leave her room.

  In mine, I take a lengthy shower and pull on a blue button-up polka dot shirt and white khakis. I send her a text, asking to meet in the lounge for our expedition today. What she doesn’t know is that we’re not just exploring the land but exploring the BS between us.

  She’s dressed in ripped black shorts, black sandals, and a loose white t-shirt. Her hair is pulled up in a messy way that just screams her. She pushes up her black sunglasses, and I admire her tattoos and her face and ear piercings as I grow closer to her.

  She wasn’t wearing this yesterday, so she must have gotten up before me and changed or she came while I was sleeping. Either way, I’m hurt that she didn’t wake me up or stay in bed with me. Being in bed while we figure…us out would have been a lot easier than while we’re hiking.

  “You look pretty.” The words tumble out of my mouth. Despite the odd looks thrown at her here and there, she is the most naturally beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

  She squints her eyes skeptically, her lips itching with a smile. “You look cute, I guess…” she says, looking me up and down. Her eyes linger on my exposed chest beneath the three popped-open buttons. I can’t even fight off my smirk. “Shut up.” What’d I do? I question before realizing she read my mind or she just knows me so well she can guess.

  I genuinely smile because of the obvious connection but frown when I try to read her mind. But all I can get out of her is lust as she eyes my chest, then mouth. I want behind the golden gates that lead to her pure thoughts, untainted by doubt and secrecy.

  “So, where do we start, Columbus?” she asks as we walk out and into the sunny day.

  “Columbus?” I question, leading us to the black rental car.

  “Yeah, he explored the seven oceans or some shit. Did you, Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes, not pay attention in history class?” she gasps, and I laugh.

  “Yes, I did. But I don’t kill natives and claim something that isn’t mine.” I start up the car, and she smirks at me, seemingly impressed.

  “No wonder I liked you,” she says.

  Liked. Fucking ouch.

  But I keep up my smile and pull out of the hotel’s parking lot, and we start the day. The first place on the list is the town square. Cute, pastel-colored banners hang outside of shops. I take pictures to show my father when we get home, and Red writes down notes in a notepad. I would think she’s drawing a cartoon penis or something if it weren’t for her asking me to look over her impressively observant notes.

  We hike through the hills, checking out large lots overlooking the ocean, while the words I desperately want to bombard on her pile up. I rummage through them, sort them into sentences, and end up t
earing them apart. None fit or make sense, and I want to sound confident and of sound mind. I don’t want her to pick apart my words and run away from them, from me. I never want to see the back of her again; I only want to see her ethereal face and hear the naked truth.

  I want to question her about what happened last night, what she said in return to my loopy words. I want to know everything that led to our demise. And I want to not feel bad for holding her hand as I help her hop onto a rocky boulder on the beach.

  “Are you sure you should be up there?” I ask. I don’t want her to fall and get hurt.

  “Yes, Daddy.” She says it as a joke, but my dirty mind conjures a smile on my face anyway. She notices my haughty smile, blushes, and rolls her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “What gutter?”

  “There is no gutter.”

  “Then why say it?”

  “I…” She falters and looks over at me with a smile so bright, I have to shield my eyes with my free hand. We had the same dialogue on our way to our second date. A chill races down my spine as I picture how happy she looked when that band was playing, how we played on the beach and stared at the stars before we…let’s just say it was the best night of my life.

  She smiles softly but doesn’t say anything. I don’t need to read her mind to know what she’s thinking. And suddenly the courage and words I’ve been searching for all day fall on my tongue as she carefully steps over a piece of jagged rock, my grip on her tight.

  “Red…why’d you do it?”

  Her breathing stutters, and she twists to face me. Her mouth opens, and she begins to speak, but she loses her footing and falls onto the rocky boulder. She lets out a blood-curdling scream then a pained groan, and I am panicking and picking her up, laying her on the sand, when I see it.