BETWEEN NOW AND FOREVER: FOREVER TRILOGY BOOK 1

by Allen, Dylan

  I sit next to her and pick up her hand from where it’s resting on the bed. I open her palm and trace a pattern while I talk.

  “My dad is my manager and we have a strong difference of opinion about my career,“ I say.

  “You’re an actor, too? Oh my God, should I know who you are, too?” she asks, and I laugh at the mild panic in her wide eyes.

  “No. I’m a pianist. You’re about fifty years too young to fit the demographic of my average fan,” I quip.

  “My brother plays the piano. Not professionally or anything.” She smiles fondly when she mentions him. “Do you do concerts and stuff?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Sure.” I’m tired of talking about myself and the vulnerability I’m feeling is chafing. So, I change the subject.

  “So, what about you? Are you still in college?”

  Her eyes dim before she turns away and walks over to the window.

  “I…didn’t go to college.” She says it like she’s confessing to a crime.

  “Me neither. So that’s another thing we have in common,” I say.

  She turns back to face me, her expression skeptical. “What else do we have in common?”

  “Each other.”

  I walk over to stand by her, and she turns her back to the window so that I’m looking at the other side of her face.

  There’s a long pause, and in the silence of our voices, I hear other things.

  The dull throb of my pulse, the purposeful deep breaths she keeps taking, the way my breathing shifts and mimics hers.

  This quiet communion feels uncomfortably intimate, and I cut through it with a simple question.

  “What happened tonight? Why were you alone?”

  She darts a glance at me and then looks back out of the window.

  “I had to beg my brother to let me go to that party. I never get to do things like that. I was so excited. And then, I got there and it sucked.” She rolls her eyes at that last word.

  “The party?”

  “And my friends.”

  She tells me about the bottle of liquid Molly and her phone, and by the time she’s done, my jaw hurts from clenching it so tight.

  “And the worst part…is that if they’d walked over and asked me to join them, I would have. What does that even say about me?” she asks miserably.

  I put a hand on her shoulder.

  ”There’s nothing wrong with giving a shit, Beth. They’re the defective people in this scenario. Not you. I wish you’d told me this when we were out there. It’s been a minute since I had a good reason to knock somebody out.”

  She gives me a grateful smile and blushes.

  “While seeing Duke get his ass kicked would be a very nice thing, it wouldn’t be worth all the trouble. His older brother is the mayor. His father is a political king maker. He’s the only person whose ass my father kisses. If I damage that relationship, he’d probably kill me," she says.

  “Duke is a dumb name and I’m shocked that this town is big enough to have a mayor.”

  “It’s not that small. And it needs leadership.” There’s a fond expression on her face as she defends her town.

  “You sure you hate it here? Maybe you just need new friends.”

  “Yeah…I mean, it’s home. I’m a product of it…I love it, really. But it doesn’t love me back. No matter what I do.”

  I feel every single ounce of her frustration. That’s exactly how I feel about my career. I’m good at it. I’ve been raised thinking it’s what I’m supposed to do. But now…I don’t know.

  “I’m scared that if I stay, I’ll never know what it’s like to belong. But I’m scared that if I leave, I’ll find out that everything I’m afraid of will come true.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not good at anything. That I won’t be able to take care of myself. That in the end, I’ll have to come back home with my failure hanging over my head.” She looks incredulous and shakes her head. “What was in that tea? I feel like I’ve had a truth serum. I’ve never said that to anyone. Not even myself.”

  “My mother is a gifted doctor, but truth serums are above her pay grade. I think it’s just that sometimes you meet people who are easy to talk to.”

  She just smiles, but still looks self-conscious.

  “Beth, I’m very familiar with failure. Trust me, it’s not the worst thing, and it doesn’t have to be the end. Unless, of course, your failure leads to your death. But otherwise, you can just try again.”

  “That sounds like a slogan for something.” I quip, and wish it could be that easy.

  “It’s every New Yorker’s motto. It’s the city of second chances and personal reinvention.”

  “What’s life like there?” she asks.

  “Loud, cluttered, expensive and dirty.” I grimace.

  “You don’t like it? How can you say that?” She sounds offended on the city’s behalf.

  “It’s fine. It’s home...but not,” I say and try to think about New York from an outsider's perspective. It is very alive. It’s where the whole world comes together.

  “So, where do you want to live?”

  I reach into my back pocket and hand her my post card of Corsica. It’s worn and creased, but the color of the sea in the image isn’t diminished one bit.

  “Wow. This is beautiful.”

  “Yeah, it’s off the coast of France and peaceful. We went there when I was sixteen. I didn’t want to leave. I’ve never felt like that about anywhere else.” Until now, I add silently.

  “Man, I want that feeling,” she says.

  I take the card back. “Don’t get me wrong. I love New York City. It’s got real character: loud, unapologetic, unflinching, unbothered. It does what it wants, and we all just hang on for dear life. I only live there because it’s where I was raised. I’ve gotten to travel a lot because of the piano. But, I never really get to see the cities. When we went to Corsica, it was just a vacation. Best summer of my life.” I smile at the nostalgia the memories bring up.

  “So, your parents would just let you up and move?” she asks. I laugh at that.

  “They don’t let me do anything. I’m an adult. They don’t always agree and we’ll argue about it, but I know they’d support me no matter what.”

  She chuckles but there’s no humor in it.

  “When I was eighteen, I got a job at a place in town. It paid more than my dad did, so I quit my job at his company. Big mistake.” She shudders and grimaces.

  “Was your dad pissed?”

  She lets out a humorless laugh and shakes her head.

  “My father made sure no one in town ate there for the three days it took them to fire me. Now, no one else would dream of hiring me away from him. And so if I want to have an income at all, I do whatever job he gives me. But I’m saving for art school. My brother just promised to help, too. Maybe once I’ve made something of myself, I can come back here and it’ll be better.”

  What she’s saying sounds like my personal definition of hell.

  My parents and I fight. And my siblings and I do, too. But, I wouldn’t trade my family for anything. I know duty and obligation can make saying no to your parents very hard. Even more so, when you know that they rewrote the stars to give you a life that, by all rights, shouldn’t be yours.

  They’ve made their preferences clear, but my parents have never made me feel like I owe them anything more than the love and respect that they give me.

  They’ve certainly never held money over my head the way she’s implying her father does.

  “That was my first party ever,“ she announces.

  “Huh? Tonight?” I can’t hide my surprise.

  She nods.

  “My dad is very strict. I don’t have a car, so I don’t get out much.” She looks embarrassed and that is the last thing I want. And I’m also worried that this is going to turn into some sort of mutual confessional, and I’m not ready to spill the way she is, so I try to
lighten the mood.

  “Well, where’d you learn to kiss like that, then? Couldn’t have been from kissing your pillow,” I tease.

  But she doesn’t laugh.

  “That was my very first kiss.”

  “What…like ever? Or just today?” I ask completely disbelieving.

  She chuckles, but she shakes her head.

  “Ever.”

  I gawk. “Is this town full of asexual people? How does a girl who looks like you go twenty years and not kiss anyone?”

  She frowns at me, her eyes narrowing in contemplation and full of conflict. Finally, she sighs and looks resigned to something that makes her sad. She turns and heads for the door.

  “Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  She steps out into the hallway, and I ignore her command and follow her. She’s walking into the bathroom and doesn’t close the door. I hear the sink’s faucet come on and hesitate for a moment before I follow her. She’s bent over the sink, washing her face.

  I lean against the doorframe and wait. When she turns the water off, she stands straight and meets my eyes in the mirror. Hers widen in surprise.

  “I told you to wait!” she cries and grabs a towel to wipe her dripping face.

  “Close your eyes.” Her voice is muffled through the towel.

  “What? Why?”

  “Please. I just want to say something before I show you,” she pleads, her shoulders slumping as she holds the towel to her face. I'm perplexed but curious, so I relent and close my eyes.

  “Fine. But this better be good,” I say in feigned annoyance.

  “Thank you. I know this is weird. But, I’m trying really hard to not repeat the same mistakes. I like you.”

  “Is that one of the mistakes?” I joke.

  “No. Please. I’m not good with words, so just let me finish.” Her voice is halting and unsure. Hearing her nerves, when she’s been so composed all night wipes the jaunty smile off my face.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I like you. I can tell that if we spend time together, I’m going to like you even more. I can tell you like me, too, but, I want you to see this first.” She swallows hard and worry lurches in my stomach. Oh my God, what is she about to show me? Does she have a swastika tattooed on her face? I fidget but don’t say anything.

  “I understand if it makes you uncomfortable or changes things...but, I’ve learned the hard way that it’s best to get this out of the way first. Also, it’ll be much easier to get over you if I know you’re an asshole. So…you can open your eyes. This is me. The real me.”

  I open my eyes slowly and find that she’s still facing the mirror and is watching me through the reflection. At first, I’m so focused on her eyes that it takes me a few seconds to see what she wants me to see.

  There is a splotch of scarlet about two inches in circumference that covers her left cheek and the lower swell of her cheekbone.

  “Is that…?"

  I step closer and peer at it, and she closes her eyes.

  “I just wanted you to understand why no one has kissed me. I didn’t think it was fair to have you thinking I’m something I’m not.”

  The unmuted vulnerability and naked honesty of her confession are like truth serum tipped arrows aimed and shot straight at me. They hit all of the places I left exposed when I approached her like I do everyone else.

  Too late, I realize my error in judging this book by its cover.

  I thought she was just another pretty face, a girl who I’d fuck and forget. I wasn’t prepared for the compelling, heart pounding reality of Elisabeth Wolfe.

  My armor of shallow charm, dry wit, and calculated seduction proves to be no match for the bravery and determination in her lavishly expressive, man slaying eyes.

  Fuck.

  I know firsthand how much courage it takes to bare your faults in public. I’ve never mustered enough of it to do that.

  That determined glint in her eyes to see whatever truth is coming, no matter how much it hurts, hits me straight in the gut.

  I push off my perch against the door, close, and lock it behind me. I cross the room and only stop when the front of my body is a hairsbreadth away from the back of hers.

  Her eyes never leave mine, but the bravery is replaced by wonder that makes me fucking weak.

  I brush my nose against the soft spot at the nape of her neck and inhale.

  My pulse ratchets up at the heady combination of her sweat mingling with my green tea scented soap.

  She grasps the edge of the sink and arches her back, sending her hips and ass back toward my already very hard dick. I draw back a little. She may not be ready for that. That wonder is peppered with unmistakable innocence.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice is a quivering sigh and her head droops a little and her eyes flutter wildly before they close.

  “Smelling you.”

  I grasp her chin and turn her head so that the cheek that offends her so much is facing me.

  Then, I lick it.

  “Tasting you and hoping some of you rubs off on me.”

  She bites her bottom lip, but doesn’t open her eyes.

  I don’t understand how she can think that she’s not beautiful. The spot is smooth; there’s no change in the texture of the skin it covers. And as I look closely at it, I see it’s a familiar shape.

  “It’s a four-leaf clover…and these freckles, they're like the stem,” I say.

  Her eyes pop open, and all of the doubt and worry has been replaced by keen skepticism.

  There she is.

  “Clovers have three leaves. I have one of those on my…on my body.” She blushes and I don’t tell her that I saw it when she was changing.

  “Regular clovers have three leaves, but lucky ones have four. Like this.” I trace it with my fingertip.

  “Really?” She gasps when I touch her.

  “Yeah. This…it’s good luck. You’re good luck.”

  Her eyes soften and the pink tip of her tongue darts out to stroke that crease in her lip that I know I’ll see in every dream I have for a long while.

  “You don’t have to be nice,” she says, and I decide to stop trying to convince her of something that is contrary to what she holds as a core belief.

  Words are meaningless, anyway. Anyone can say anything.

  I can show her how much I mean it in a way she’ll never forget.

  I press my erection into the sweet offering of her lush ass.

  "Does that feel like I'm being nice?”

  Her breath hitches and starts to come harder.

  “Can I kiss you again?” I ask, my voice roughened by need.

  She shivers, her lips part, but she shakes her head.

  “You don’t have to, now that—”

  I silence her by turning her around, cradling her head in my hands, and kissing her tempting mouth.

  It’s not a romantic kiss.

  It’s a kiss that’s on a mission to find the place in her that needs it most and to make her feel as good as she deserves to. Whatever life she’s walking back to in the morning, tonight I’m going to treat her like she’s mine.

  If these are first kisses, then I want to make them unforgettable. I know that they will be for me. Our lips and tongues suck and slide, nip, and nibble. Our breaths are exchanged as much as shared. And when I finally pull my lips from hers to explore more of her, I’m drunk on her kiss.

  “Carter,” she sighs and moves her body, rolling against me, as if she can’t get close enough.

  My dick is hard and hungry for more of the softness I felt when we’d been pressed against the door. But that’s not in the cards for tonight.

  I lift her shirt off and almost black out at the sight of the plump, pink nipples that crown her perfectly rounded breasts. I draw the turgid flesh into my hot mouth, and she lets loose a strangled moan.

  Her fingers sink into my hair, and she starts to whimper. It’s sexy sound in the back of her throat and damn, I love how vocal she is about her pleas
ure.

  I give her other breast the same treatment, and when I think I’m going to explode in my pants I pull away.

  “I want to be inside of you so bad, Beth. I want to rip your leggings off and fuck you, hard and fast.”

  She rocks against me, and I know she wants it, too. I grab her hips to slow down her movements.

  “Yes, yes. Please,” she pants. Her voice is frantic, and she tightens her hold on my shoulders like she’s afraid I’m going to stop.

  “I don’t have any condoms. And I want your first time to be something else.”

  She starts to protest, and I dip down and take her nipple back in to my mouth.

  “Okay, just…do that…oooh, that’s nice.” She sighs.

  I chuckle around her nipple before I give her what she’s asking for.

  I suck her deeper, harder and my hand glides down the smooth skin of her bare stomach and slips past the waist of her leggings, and I curse under my breath when I find nothing but the smooth, velvet skin of her lower abdomen before my finger delves into the wet, pouty lips of her pussy.

  “Oh my God,” she cries when I find her clit and rub circles around it while I drag my teeth over her nipples.

  She cries out in pain, and I freeze.

  “No! Please, I like it,” she gasps and I start nipping her gently. I slip my finger into her pussy, and she clenches around my finger immediately. God, fucking this cunt would have been incredible.

  Next time.

  I kneel and tug her leggings down.

  “Put your leg over my shoulder,” I say, and I press a kiss to her stomach.

  “Why?” She says, like she’s completely confused.

  I look up to see if she’s serious.

  The view is spectacular, and I take my time with it as I travel up to her face. When I get to her ocean eyes, I see she is. Oh, this is going to be great.

  She may have other lovers after me, but I’m going to do my best to make sure her first time sets a high bar. I stand up and put us nose to nose while I explain.

  “You’ve got a pretty pussy. I want to put my lips and tongue on it, and I want to lick and suck it until I make you come. Then, I’m going to do it again. And again. And again, until you tell me you can’t take anymore.”

  Her breath comes in hard pants, and she nods.