Wrecked

by Jeannine Colette

  His chest lets out a shaky breath, needing to be restrained.

  Like two ends of a magnet, our souls are being drawn toward one another. I am the negative, and he is the positive.

  He is everything good and right in the world, and he is pulling my wicked ways toward him, ready to be reconciled under the holiness of his heated stare.

  My chest quivers. I exhale just to let out the pure need I have in my body for the man across the flames. Maybe it’s the turn of events over the last few weeks, maybe it’s the nightfall or the fire or the booze, but a need I’ve never known travels through my body, sails through my blood, and lands inside my very core.

  Every time I look at him, I feel like I’m being exorcised. I have to hold on to my body, for fear it will fly across the flames and into his arms.

  I stand and rub my palm across my forehead. “I have to pee.”

  As I scatter away from the fire, Suzanne calls out, “Don’t go too far.”

  I wave a hand in the air and walk into the woods. Away from Suzanne and her reminders of what’s at stake, away from Jessica who is here with Adam and is absolutely crazy about him, and away from the most insatiable need I have ever been given by a man in my entire life.

  I walk far into the woods until I barely see the orange glow from the flames. In the pitch-black of night, I place my hand on a tree. My hand skims the bark. The rough, cool edges ground me. I inhale the scent of moss and dew and try to calm my body to a place where it needs to be. Away from the one man I shouldn’t want.

  “Leah?”

  For a brief moment, I wonder if I’m hallucinating.

  I clench my eyes shut even though I can’t see a thing in front of me. When I open them, it’s still black, but the air is saturated in white noise.

  “Leah?” Adam’s voice is soft yet more demanding now.

  I can’t see him, but I can feel him.

  He’s close.

  So close.

  “I’m right here,” I say through shaky breaths.

  Heat. I feel heat. It’s radiating off him, so hot that I turn my body until it’s directly in its path.

  “I know where you are,” he says in that sensual voice. “I need you to tell me I can be there, too.”

  I bow my head down and breathe, “I wish I could.”

  I hear his heavy pants, deep and long. Leaves crunch under his feet as he draws near, searching for me. The pads of his fingertips brush the outsides of my arms, and the simple touch sets my body aflame. As soon as the skin makes contact, he lets go. The loss of his touch is devastating.

  “Adam, what are you doing here?”

  “You shouldn’t be in the woods alone. It’s too dark and dangerous.”

  “Is that why you’re here? I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  “Yes, you do,” he says, taking a step closer.

  I fall back into the tree behind me. My heart is beating wildly out of my chest. “Are you going to be my protector now? You spent years ignoring me, and suddenly, you have a gained interest in my safety?”

  It’s an odd sensation, being without sight. My other senses are heightened to the extreme as I am immersed in everything Adam. His controlled breaths are heavy in the air. The heat of his skin burns through him, warming me without a single touch. He smells like spice, smoke, and all-American man. And, when he speaks, I swear, the trees lean in as well just so they can listen to the most sensual sound on the planet.

  “When will you stop and see that you have it wrong? That we’ve had this all wrong?”

  “See what, Adam? I can’t see anything.” My words are a plea.

  “If you can’t see me, then I need you to feel me.”

  He takes a step so close that his body pushes up against mine, his arms down at the sides. I don’t know if I want them to stay where they are or wrap themselves around me.

  “Do you feel my heart racing? Do you feel how fast my blood is running through my body just because I’m near you?”

  The answer is yes. My own heart is about to burst out of my chest.

  “No,” I lie.

  Adam removes his sweatshirt and throws it to the ground. He grabs my hand, lifts it to his chest, and drops his hand, leaving mine to lace my fingers through his light smattering of hair. His body is hard and muscular, concealing a pounding beat that is pulsing against my palm.

  “This is how you make me feel. It’s how you’ve always made me feel.”

  My hand rises and falls with the heaviness of his words. Hesitantly, I lift my other hand to his face, as the desire to caress him is overwhelming. When my palm brushes against the stubble, his head falls into it, and he lets out a groan, as if my touch is the one thing he’s been craving his entire life.

  “How do I make you feel?” I ask.

  His arms are still at his sides, and I am secretly aching for him to touch me, too. Instead, he lowers his forehead to mine.

  “Like I have no control.”

  I close my eyes and firmly hold on to his face, not wanting him to move away, not even an inch. “That doesn’t sound like a very good thing.”

  “It’s not. I’m always on guard.”

  “You don’t seem like you are right now.”

  “You have no idea what it is taking me not to touch you right now.”

  “Why aren’t you?”

  “Because you haven’t let me.”

  His groin is pressed firmly against me, the weight of him powerful. I push down the ache in my throat and the burning desire I am experiencing. I know I shouldn’t want him. I know nothing good can come out of being with him.

  Blame it on his words. Blame the shadow of night. Blame my damn heart because I want to feel his touch so damn much that I couldn’t care less about the consequences.

  “Touch me,” I breathe.

  As the words leave my mouth, his chest jerks ever so slightly under my hand. For a moment, I don’t think he is going to move.

  Suddenly, I feel his lips on mine, and it’s as if the whole world explodes with a bright white light.

  His lips are soft, warm, and slightly parted on my mouth. The power of this simple action is making my head spin with lust. He is firm yet gentle, like he wants more but is afraid to take it.

  I part my mouth and run my tongue over his supple lip. He lets out a groan into my mouth, and I know it’s exactly what he wants. I deepen the kiss, and it feels like I’ve just given him permission to open the gates of heaven.

  Our tongues intertwine. The gentle Adam is gone, and in his place is the man who is taking his treasure. His hands rise to my face, and I fall into his kiss and let him take the lead.

  Adam is the man created from the rib of God, and I am his Eve, tempting him with the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden.

  If I thought his body was close before, I was wrong. As he takes hold of me, there is absolutely nothing between us. Air can’t squeeze through the tight space of our limbs.

  His hand lowers to my ass and lifts me against the tree, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist. He has one hand under me while the other is back in my hairline, cradling my head.

  Our bodies begin to move—his up and into me, mine down and toward him—forming a wave of sexual pleasure. Our cores rub up against one another, the friction already causing me to throb. I run my hands through his hair and pull hard, and Adam bites my lower lip.

  I’ve kissed. I’ve fooled around. But there is nothing that can ever, will ever, compare to the instant explosion of lust and heat and want that I am experiencing with Adam right now.

  His hand lowers from my head and slides down my body to lift the end of my shirt. It travels beneath the fabric and up the side of my body, exposing me. His mouth releases from our kiss and lowers to find the skin at the edge of my satin bra. He runs his tongue along the edge, and I gasp from the contact.

  I use my hand to lower my bra, so my breasts are pushed up and out, my nipples tingling from the night breeze.

  “I wish for nothing more than to be able t
o see you right now,” Adam utters, his tongue dancing circles around my nipple as he thrusts his body into mine.

  “I want nothing more than to be able to fuck you right now,” I say with bated breath.

  “Jesus Christ,” he says just before he takes my breast in his mouth.

  I nearly scream out into the dark of night.

  Thrusting.

  Grinding.

  Pulsing.

  I am on fire, and I need him inside me.

  Lowering my legs, I try to get on steady ground. When I do, his mouth breaks from my chest but quickly finds my mouth. I undo the button of his shorts and slide my hand inside, wrapping my fingers around the wide girth.

  “Holy fuck, Leah. Please tell me this is really happening,” he breathes. He has to lean his hands on the tree behind me to keep his balance.

  I pump the hard steel of his shaft and run my thumb around the tip. The desire to have him inside me is building greater than before, and if I don’t feel him in me, I am going to die in the middle of the forest.

  With my free hand, I lower my shorts and then tug on my panties.

  “Baby, we have to stop,” he says between pants.

  “Stop?” I say. I lean up to kiss his incredible mouth again. “There is no stopping us now.” I suck on his tongue.

  His hands mold around my ass, squeezing my skin and drawing me into him.

  I pump him harder, faster, and then I run the tip of his shaft against my belly, showing him the promise of what’s to come.

  “Leah, please.”

  I rise up onto my toes to better line myself up with him. The anticipation of this hard, swollen head entering me is making me throb.

  He places a hand on my wrist and stops the motion. “We can’t do this.”

  Falling back into the tree, my heart is racing, my body is on the edge of climax, and my head is reeling. “Did you just stop us from having sex?”

  Adam’s breaths are loud, roaring from his diaphragm, and he tries to control them. “Yes.”

  With two hands on his chest, I push him away. I pull my shorts up my legs and lower my bra and shirt back into place. Running a hand through my hair, I try to figure out what the hell just happened.

  “Don’t be upset,” he says.

  “Upset?” I ask, moving away from him and the tree, tripping over myself in the darkness. “I’m not upset. Why would I be? You were just humping me against a spruce and letting me jerk you off, only to push me away and say you don’t want to fuck me.”

  “Exactly. I don’t want to fuck you up against a tree in the middle of the woods with your friends twenty yards away. Sorry if I’m trying to be chivalrous.”

  My friends.

  Jessica.

  “Shit!” I cry and slam my hand against a tree. Well, that hurt. A lot. I pull my hand into my chest and shake away the sting.

  What the hell am I doing out here with Adam when Jessica is at the camp, waiting for her friend and the guy she is crazy about to come back from the world’s longest pee in the woods? I am the worst person on the planet.

  I start to walk through the trees, heading toward the amber light. Adam is quickly by my side.

  “No,” I say to him as I stop. “Let me go back first.”

  “We’ve been out here for a long time. They probably know what was going on.”

  “I don’t want them to know anything. As far as they are concerned, we were arguing.”

  He grabs my wrist and pulls me toward him. The moon is shooting through the trees, cascading a white light across his face. “I said I didn’t want to take you for the first time up against a tree. I didn’t say I wanted to pretend what we did didn’t happen.”

  Pulling my wrist from his grasp, I step back and start to walk away. “Jessica is my friend, Adam. I have many faults, but an honest friend I will forever be. Not to mention, this can’t happen. What if someone finds out you’re sleeping with me? You could lose your job, and I would lose my bar. Between the two of us, you’re supposed to be the mature one. You’re supposed to keep me straight. Instead, you’re letting me corrupt you, the same way I do with everyone else.” My eyes begin to burn, but I’ll be damned if I start crying.

  He leans in, and his hands reach out to grab me, but I back away.

  “I care about you,” he says.

  “If you care about me, you’ll stay away.”

  chapter NINETEEN

  “What are you doing here?” Toby pops his head into the bathroom I am grouting.

  “I can’t make it on my usual day, so I thought I’d lend a hand today.” I’m on my hands and knees, wiping sanded grout into the crevices of the tiles the crew laid yesterday. I can’t lay tile for shit, but I can read directions, mix a bag of Polyblend, and scoop it onto the floor with a trowel.

  “This place is addicting, isn’t it?” he says.

  “Surprisingly so.” I lean back onto my heels and wipe the sweat off the top of my head.

  “You need help in here?” he asks, adjusting his hair under the trucker hat he has on his head.

  “No, thanks. I want to work alone today.” To prove my point, I take the earbuds hanging around my neck and slide them into my ears.

  “Oh, cool. All right. Keep up the good work. Holler if you need a hand.”

  Toby leaves, and I am left in the small bathroom, a place I volunteered to spend my day away from everyone. I spread the grout into the small joints and let it set for fifteen minutes. When I’m at the opposite end of the bathroom, I work my way back to the beginning and wipe the muddy floor with a wet sponge.

  I move to the other bathroom in the home and grout it as well. By lunchtime, I have no excuse to stay in the bathrooms, so I work my way downstairs and take my spot under the tree where Adam and I have been having our lunch for the last few weeks.

  When my dad saw me leaving this morning, he ran out with a packed lunch. Leave it to Bob to get excited at the thought of making his little girl a lunch, like he did when I was in grade school. He even wrote me a note.

  Your mind will give back to you exactly what you put into it.

  It’s a James Joyce quote. I know I get my idiosyncrasies from my dad. He, the lover of all things Joyce. Me, the great defender of McConaughey.

  Chewing on Dad’s homemade taffy, I look up at the three homes that are almost ready for their owners. Roger and Vivienne Montgomery, the wounded veteran and his wife, will be ready to move in next week. The Framers, who lost their daughter to a fire, will be in shortly after, and the Mikguses will be out of the shelter before Halloween. We aren’t making the timetable we hoped, but we are doing a kick-ass job.

  After the camping trip, I knew I wouldn’t be able to work with Adam again. Having him at my home and taking the forty-minute trek here together are out of the question. I told Noreen that she would be in charge of the bar until I got there. That place might be my life, but this is my commitment. At least for the next four months.

  I quickly finish my lunch, toss my bag in the trash, walk across the dirt, and enter through the back of the middle house to paint. Today’s crew is pretty light, so I’ll be able to find a spot to work by myself.

  I choose one of the bedrooms, set myself up with the sandstone paint, and get to work. Climbing up a ladder, I start with the top of the wall, cutting into the corners.

  The wooden handle feels sturdy in my hand. I dip the brush in the paint and place it on the Sheetrock. Gliding the creamy paint on the wall, I realize I’ll need more control if I don’t want to get it all over the ceiling. The paint is too lovely, too smooth, and too enticing, and one small sway will leave a mark where I don’t want it.

  Kind of like Adam.

  I had ahold on him—on our past and our interactions. I had ahold on the feelings I was developing. But he was too lovely, too smooth, and way too enticing. I made one sway and left a mess of everything.

  I move the ladder a few feet to a fresh area and climb back up. Working with the utmost control, I paint so perfectly that you’d thin
k a machine did it.

  I climb down again, move the ladder, and pause when I notice Adam is standing in the room. A tingle runs up the backs of my arms, travels the length of my neck, and rushes up my hairline. It passes quickly as my brain reminds my body what happened in the woods.

  If I climb up the ladder, I’ll probably fall off from the way my nerves are acting. There’s a window in the center of the wall. I move closer to it and start painting around the trim.

  Adam takes a step closer to me. He’s wearing a salmon-colored shirt. Other than that, I can’t tell a thing about how he looks. But I can tell how he smells. Like someone who came here right out of the shower. Even with the pungent smell of paint in the room, I can detect the citrus of his shampoo.

  “I know you’re trying to ignore me,” he says.

  I tightly clench my jaw as I continue to glide the brush down the wall. It’s shaky, and if I don’t watch my hand, I’ll get sandstone all over the white trim. My earbuds are still in, but there’s no music coming through them. I stare at the wall, pretending like I can’t hear him.

  “I was right to stop us,” he continues, “but you are wrong with why I did it. I don’t want Jessica. I never wanted her.”

  He takes a step closer, and I walk toward the ladder and dip my brush in the can. I start on the other side of the window.

  “Don’t ignore me. We’ve done that for seven years, and I’m not going back to living that way again. You mean”—I catch his reflection in the glass as he runs a hand through his hair—“more to me than I ever realized. Are you listening to me?”

  My eyes start to burn. I widen them and take a deep breath to control the feelings that are swishing around.

  “Leah,” Toby calls out. “Oh, hey, Adam. You got here fast. I feel like I just spoke to you. Leah, can you give me a hand in the other room? I need someone who can do the trim without hitting the molding.”

  I turn to the ladder and grab my can of paint. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

  Keeping my head down so as not to look at Adam, I start to walk toward Toby, who is standing by the door. My arm is being pulled back. Adam’s hand is gripping on to me. It’s a purposeful grab, meant to ground me in place. I follow that hand up to his corded arm, over the jaw that hasn’t been shaved in a few days, and into eyes that are zeroed in on me.