BETWEEN NOW AND FOREVER: FOREVER TRILOGY BOOK 1

by Allen, Dylan

  So, I answer her question, but not as honestly as she asked it.

  “I’ve felt that way before. But, right now, I feel like I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” I meant it to sound like a pickup line, but as it leaves my lips, it feels like the honest-to-God truth.

  She cocks her head, her expression confused.

  “Are you…flirting with me?”

  I nod, amused by the look of surprise on her face. I’m sure she’s been hit on all night. “Although, if you have to ask, I’m clearly doing it wrong.” I grin deprecatingly.

  She doesn’t smile back.

  “Why?” She folds her arms across her chest, her bright blue eyes are full of wariness.

  It’s my turn to look confused. “Is there more than one reason a guy flirts with a girl?”

  “No one put you up to coming over here?” she demands, biting her lip and glancing over at her friends again.

  What the fuck?

  “No. I saw you dancing, and I walked over here because you’ve got a hot body and an epically pretty face. I asked you to dance because I wanted a reason to touch you without having to ask.”

  Her pink lips part in surprise, but there’s curiosity and a glint of innocence that can’t be real. Not on a girl who looks like that…but it’s charming as fuck.

  God, I could look at her all night.

  She swallows audibly and licks her lips. Oh, there’s nothing confusing about that. I know exactly what that means.

  I take a step toward her.

  "Why did you want to touch me?” She asks, her eyes wide and gleaming in the firelight.

  Nope. No confusion at all.

  “I wanted to know if your skin is as soft as it looks.”

  I reach out and trail a finger down her bare shoulder.

  “Oh yeah, even softer.”

  Her eyes widen, and her chest rises sharply. She touches her shoulder tracing the path of my fingers, and then continues upward, running her fingers over her throat before they come to rest with a nervous flutter over the exposed skin of her chest.

  Oh yeah, this girl is so my type, and whatever hostility she was feeling when I approached, is gone.

  I know better. I should stop and say goodnight.

  But fuck if I will. I can’t remember the last time I was so attracted to anyone…and it’s not like I can fuck her out here in the open. Just a little longer…My eyes dart to her hands, which have started moving again.

  “Is that where you want me to touch you?” I nod at her hand. She’s trailed it back up again, and she’s stroking her jaw.

  She swallows and shakes her head yes.

  “Come here,” I order gruffly and put my hand out.

  “What?” she asks dazedly and stares at my hand.

  “You’re fucking sexy, this whole innocent thing is hot.”

  “Sexy?”

  She looks up at me again. Her face is flushed, and she’s almost panting.

  Oh yeah, I’m so into it.

  “Come. Here.” I reach for her delicate fine boned hand and take it in mine.

  Her eyes hold mine like an azure lasso and for a brief, mad moment I want to tell her how adrift I’ve been.

  But there’s nothing better at ruining good chemistry than fucking honesty.

  So I put that impulse away and focus on milking every second that my skin is in contact with hers.

  I look away from her eyes and focus on how good she feels.

  When I link our fingers, she inhales sharply and squeezes my hand.

  I drag her to me, wrap an arm around her tiny waist, and pull her body flush to mine. Her free arm loops around my neck and I take advantage of her slightly arched neck to press my nose to the soft skin of her throat and inhale.

  She smells like a perfect summer day--sugary lemonade, sunshine, and wildflowers. Her body is so soft and fuck I wish we were inside so I could throw her down on my bed and sink into the softest part of her.

  I groan and press a kiss to the spot I just discovered. She tilts her hips forward and brushes against my rock hard erection.

  She gasps sharply and pushes away from me so suddenly that I don’t have the chance to think before she’s out of my arms.

  She touches the spot I kissed.

  “What’s your name?” She searches my face. With parted lips, she asks in a soft voice, full of wonder. I don’t want her to lose that and if she knows my name, she absolutely will.

  “Call me whatever you want; it doesn’t matter. Let’s just be whoever we want tonight.”

  Some of the light dims in her eyes, but she looks intrigued by my answer rather than deterred.

  “I saw you earlier. You looked straight through me.”

  I shake my head adamantly. “No way. If I’d seen you, I’d remember.”

  “I was dressed differently and I was wearing a long blonde wig.” She says and I take a step back and look her up and down. I can’t imagine her with anything other than the hairstyle on her head.

  “Why in the world were you wearing a wig?”

  “Same reason you won’t tell me your name. I wanted to be someone else today. But, I learned really fast, that there is no “someone else.” You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig.”

  “Did you just compare yourself to a pig?”

  “No, it’s just a saying. But I am done with pretending. I don’t think the ROI is worth the effort. So, my name is Liz, Mr. My Name is A Secret. And I’m also done with people who pretend. So, it’s nice to meet you. But, I think I’ll just go back to dancing by myself.”

  As if in rebuke of her words, thunder rumbles so loudly that it startles shrieks, screams, and bellows from the revelers around the lake.

  We look at each other wide-eyed and she looks like she’s about to say something when a deafening strike of lightning turns the night sky as bright as it was before the sun set.

  And then, the heavens open. There’s no build up in this storm. The rain falls in torrential sheets of fat droplets that sting as they hit us. It strikes the ground and sounds like a million boots running in a staggered cadence that’s deafening.

  The reaction of the crowd as the downpour douses the campfires is immediate and as dramatic as the sudden deluge.

  Most people abandon their things and make a dash for their cars. Some try to salvage their belongings and find their companions. It’s total chaos. People are shouting, shoving, running.

  She grabs my arm and shakes it to get my attention. She’s saying something but I can’t hear her. I point to my ear and shake my head so she knows.

  She deflates a little and looks back across the lake and then back at me, indecision plain on her face even as the rain runs over it.

  I remember the look on her face earlier and I make a snap decision.

  I take her hand and try to turn her in the direction of our lake house. She digs her heels in. She points back at the campfire and struggles out of my rain slicked grasp and takes off running toward it. I watch, not sure if she’s coming back, but also not willing to leave her out here alone.

  She stops right outside the circle of benches around the fire and bends to scoop up something. When she turns to face me, she’s wearing a triumphant smile and clutching a light blue backpack to her chest.

  She runs back in my direction, and I meet her halfway. Without a word, she slips her hand into mine and when I turn us around, she doesn’t resist. The rain is relentless and thunderous as it pounds the pavement and we hold tight to each other’s hands as we weave through the crowd of people headed in the opposite direction.

  We’re rounding the first curve on the small road that leads to the houses when she stumbles. Her hand slides out of mine as she topples to the ground. When I turn around, I see she’s bent, clutching her ankle, and when she looks up at me, her face is twisted in pain.

  Lightning cracks again, and I jump. I’m not used to being so exposed to the elements in a storm like this. Getting inside is all I can think about.

  I sli
de an arm under her knees, and lift her into my arms. She slips her arms around my neck, and then, we’re off again. She’s light, but I haven’t worked out in a month and my lungs protest as I run up the hill as fast as I can.

  I need to get my ass back in the gym.

  I trip on something and manage to regain my balance before we both fall.

  I silence the self-critical voice in my head and focus on the warm body in my arms and how trusting her grasp on my neck feels.

  As soon as I hit the steps, the door swings open and the warm light of our brightly lit cabin beckons me. My mother appears in the open door, her face etched with worry and surprise as I bound up the stairs and into the house.

  She’s got towels ready and drops one over my shoulder.

  “Carter, I’m so glad you’re okay, the lightning hit a tree or something. Hold on, let me get more towels. Don’t move,” she calls over her shoulder as she disappears down the hallway.

  The cabin is brightly lit but the air conditioning we’ve had running constantly turns the wet clothes clinging to me cold and uncomfortable really fast.

  Liz squirms. “Hey, will you put me down, please?”

  That sounds like the worst idea ever. Not only do I like the way she feels, but having her pressed to me like this is keeping my chest warm.

  “Let me carry you upstairs, so you don’t have to use that ankle,” I say and start toward the stairs.

  “My ankle is fine.” Her clipped tone surprises me and I look down to see her expression is stony.

  I stop dead in my tracks. I’m a lot of things, but an overbearing asshole who doesn’t listen when a woman says no is not one of them.

  “I’m sorry. Here.” I lower her to the ground.

  As soon as her feet touch it, she relaxes and gives me a tentative smile.

  “I know you were being nice, but it’s weird, you know? I’m in your house and I don’t know you…” She glances around.

  “Is your whole family here?”

  “Yeah. My parents, my brother and sister.”

  “Okay…” her eyes widen and she looks back at the front door like she’s thinking of making a run for it. My stomach dips, and I don’t understand why.

  I only met her a few minutes ago.

  Her wanting to leave should be no skin off my nose.

  In fact, it’s probably better that she leaves.

  If it hadn’t started raining, we would have parted ways already.

  If it hadn’t started raining, I would have forgotten her name already.

  Bringing her here was the kind of thing old, reckless Carter would have done.

  I should be glad that she wants to leave. So I say the right thing.

  “I can grab an umbrella and take you back if you’d like.” Each word feels wrong as it forms on my tongue. But if she’s uncomfortable, I don’t want to make it worse by letting my disappointment show.

  She blinks in surprise.

  “You would take me back? Right now?”

  “No one’s walking anyone anywhere right now; it’s a mess outside.” My mother’s sharp retort makes us both jump. She’s standing at the top of the stairs watching us, her gaze is guarded and impatient. “Are you going to introduce your friend?”

  “We were talking when it started to rain, and she fell while—”

  “I’m Liz Wolfe.” She smiles at my mother, and if she was anxious a second ago, it doesn’t show. She walks up, bracing some of her weight on the arm rail and stops on the step below my mother. My mother draws back a little, but loses some of the wariness in her face.

  “We were talking when it started raining and the people I came with were nowhere to be found. I hurt my ankle. Thank you so much, Carter.” She shoots a mischievous, triumphant smile over her shoulder at me as she says my name like it’s a prize she won.

  My mother raises an eyebrow and looks closer at Liz as if she’s trying to see what she missed before.

  “Well, at least you’ve got manners. The half- naked girls Carter usually brings home are either too drunk or too cool to shake my hand.”

  I glare at her. “Mom, what the hell?”

  Liz laughs. “Well, I’m not cool or drunk, but I’m really cold. I’m sorry to impose on ya’ll. If you don’t mind, I’ll just dry my things and I’ll be on my way.”

  My mother blinks, opens her mouth and then closes it like she doesn’t know how to respond.

  I chuckle. “Wow, I feel like I should write this down. You’re actually speechless.”

  My mother shoots me an unimpressed frown and then smiles back at Liz.

  “It’s really coming down out there. You’re not imposing. I just wasn’t expecting anyone. We’ve got a spare room and I’ll get you some clothes so you can change into something while your things dry off.”

  “Thank you so much.” Liz says.

  “Carter will show you to the room. I’ll get some ice for that ankle and meet you there.”

  “Here.” I offer her my arm when we’re alone and she doesn’t hesitate to link hers through it. She lets her weight rest on me as we climb up the stairs.

  “Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?” She asks as we walk down the hall into the room.

  “Of course. My mom’s just a little…wary of people she doesn’t know.” It’s an understatement. I’m sure she’s already running a background check on Liz right now.

  When we get to the room, I walk her over to the bed and kneel down to get a closer look at her foot. Her sandals are pink and strappy and look like they’d be more at home in a cocktail lounge than at a lake party. I unbuckle the straps and pull it off. She hisses when I stroke the slightly swollen inside of her ankle.

  I look up at her, expecting to see pain on her face, and with an apology on the tip of my tongue.

  But it’s not pain I see there and when I run my hand down her instep her eyelids flutter and she sucks that plump bottom lip into her mouth.

  Oh yeah…it was a mistake to bring her here. She’s going to make me break all my rules.

  “Do you like me touching you?” I ask in a low voice as I trail my hand up her leg. Her pink painted toes wiggle against their perch on my thigh.

  “Very much, yes. But, I don’t think –“

  “How’s the ankle?”

  My mother’s voice slices through the sensual web I was weaving as we move apart. Me – to standing. Her- to the other end of the bed.

  “It’s fine, thank you. I know better than to run around in these shoes when it’s raining,” she says deprecatingly. In the quiet of my house, without all the noise by the lake, her voice’s lyrical cadence is audible.

  I wonder if she sings.

  “Well, the ice ought to help. I’m going to scrounge up some clothes, I’ll be right back.” She gives me a wide-eyed look that says, You've got some explaining to do, as she turns to leave the room.

  “Can I get that towel,” Liz says. She shivers and then rubs her hands over her arms to warm up.

  I’m such an ass.

  “Here.” I lift the towel off my shoulders and offer it to her with an apologetic smile.

  Our hands brush as she takes the towel, and just that small touch makes me want more. She rubs the towel over her shoulders and chest and her nipples tighten and press against the thin black fabric of her swimsuit. I wonder what color they are.

  I want to strip that fucking view ruining piece of fabric from her body and dry her off myself.

  When she rubs the towel across her throat, I wonder how solid her gag reflex is.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  “This rain is crazy. But, this is summer in Texas for you,” she says with affection and disdain while she runs the towel over her short hair. When she lifts her arms to twist the towel into a turban on her head, it reveals a birthmark on the inside of her wrist that’s in the shape of a clover. Stem and all. While she’s busy fixing the towel, I drink her in.

  Her skin is incredible, and even the harsh fluorescent light of the room
can’t dim the sun kissed glow of it.

  “Umm, you’re staring,” she says, but she’s biting her lip, trying and failing to hide a smile.

  “I’m sorry.” I drop my eyes to the floor, and then glance up again before I look back at her.

  She gives me a reproachful smile. “You’re still staring,” she chides, but her smile only gets wider.

  “You’re really hard not to stare at.” These are sorts of truths that are easy to tell. Except, she doesn’t seem to take it as a compliment.

  Her hand comes up to cover her cheek, almost like she’s been slapped and her eyes probe mine as if she’s trying to read my mind.

  “Sorry, should I not have told you that?” I ask.

  She drops her hand and continues wiping herself. But doesn’t meet my eyes.

  “I just hope you mean that in a good way,” she says after a few seconds in a voice that’s just above a whisper.

  “A very good way,” I reassure her.

  Her smile is tentative, but bright again when she finally looks up and hands me the towel.

  This time, when it passes between us, our fingers tangle briefly before I take it.

  I rub it absently through my hair and then pull my shirt off and throw them both on the bed.

  “Now, you’re staring,” I tease her.

  She flushes but, her gaze doesn’t waver. “Well… you’re hard not to stare at, too.”

  Damn. This woman is going to test the bounds of my resolve today.

  Why is this happening? The timing couldn’t be worse.

  I take a step toward her, but stop when I remember that my mother could walk in at any time and that she would skin me alive if she caught me doing anything before she’s had time to run a background check on her.

  I’m pretty sure she has no idea who I am. And I’d like to keep it that way. I want her to remember the charm and never know the fury that lurks beneath it.

  “It’s Elisabeth.” She says quietly.

  “Huh?”

  “My name. It’s Elisabeth. Liz.”

  “Of course it is.” I chuckle and shake my head at how crazy this whole night has been.

  “What’s so funny?” She says, her stance defensive.

  “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” I say.