by Liz Crowe
He pressed his lips to my temple and whispered, “I love you, Rose.”
My heart slammed into my chest walls, and the coldness I had felt faded as warmth sparked beneath my skin. I watched his eyes dance as his gaze flickered over me. “I love you, too.”
As long as I lived, I knew I’d never get enough of watching the light catch his eyes every time he reacted to my proclamation. I nearly forgot we were in a room filled with people, where my mom sat two feet away. When I looked back, she still had a hint of hesitance behind her eyes—I guessed it was weird for everyone else how quickly James and I could pull each other back, but we’d grown used to it.
*****
After the reception, we drove out to the circle of cabins where we’d be staying the next few nights. It was great to get away from everything, and even better to have James all to myself. I kicked off my shoes as soon as we entered, and considered stripping out of the uncomfortable dress as well, but I decided to leave that fun for James.
We took a bottle of champagne to the back porch and curled up together in a wicker love seat, toasting as darkness fell over the woods. I’d nabbed the extra bottle from the reception to kick off our private celebration. My insides were already curled tight in anticipation of the night. To be honest, they had been since James told me about the cabin.
Being with him always kept me worked up, but he was determined that we wouldn’t use sex as an out, and I knew he needed to heal. We both needed to heal, but I had a feeling it was much deeper for him. Not only what he’d done with me—to me—but what he’d had to do and watch before I even showed up. So, as much as it frustrated me sometimes, I stood by our promise to keep sex off the table.
And it made this night all the more delicious. I wanted it so badly I could already feel my toes curling, but I also wanted to savor it. To bask in the feeling of his skin on mine—the simple ease that had settled between us.
James sat his glass down on the floor next to the leg of the chair and dragged his fingers through my hair as I finished the last few drinks of my own.
“You sure you’re ready for this,” I teased handing him my glass as well.
He chuckled, slipping his fingers down the top of my tight gown. Then he pulled them out and patted my stomach. “You’re right. Maybe we should give it another few months.”
I straightened and pulled at his tie. “No.” I tugged him closer until our lips touched. A gentle first caress. I wanted to savor every tiny feeling, but I also had the urge to devour him.
The kiss turned into a heated struggle as my fingers found his hair and his hands grabbed my hips, pulling me into his lap to feel his stiffening member.
I loosened his tie without removing my lips from his for more than a second. Our tongues collided as my hands flew to his shirt buttons.
“You want to do this here?” He glanced through the screen at the neighboring cabins and I stretched over him to flick off the lights.
“They won’t see anything,” I kissed him and nibbled his lip, but the wicker chair wasn’t going to be a very suitable location.
I pressed my lips to his once more then jumped to my feet. “Wait here.”
I ran to the bedroom pulled off the comforter and dragged it back out to the porch and spread it out on the porch.
“They may not see anything, but I’m sure they’ll hear plenty,” James kicked off his shoes and grabbed the straps of my dress, pushing them down over my arms. He kissed along my collar bone then down my arm, while I worked at freeing his belt and getting his pants off. He unzipped the back of my dress and slipped it down over my hips, then pushed me to the floor.
He tugged the dress past my legs and tossed it into the corner, along with his shirt and pants.
I’d waited so long to have his hot skin against mine again, to run my fingers over his muscles, and to feel him inside of me. Everything faded into a blur of touching, kissing and pulling each other closer until there was nowhere left to go.
James pulled away from my naked body. Circling his fingers over the scar on my shoulder where I had been shot. Then, he ducked forward and kissed the raised pink skin before inching his way down my body with his hot lips. I moaned and wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer and urging him on.
I was about to go out of my mind with need and all he could do was tease. He smirked at my attempt but kept his attention above my waist, tracing light circles around my nipples.
Grabbing his hair, I pulled him down to face me. “I’m. Fucking. Losing. It.”
“Good,” he whispered. I moaned as he finally pressed at my wet and waiting entrance, but he paused. I rocked my hips toward him, trying to push him forward.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he groaned, pressing into me slowly. I almost came from the mix of anticipation and the feeling of him inside me for the first time in months. I wrapped my legs around his hips and rocked mine in time with his thrusts.
I moaned against his neck and planted my feet against the floor so I could press up against him until his pelvic bone pressed against my clit with every thrust. My fingers dug into his shoulder blades, and I cried out.
We had the next four days for slow and delicate. Right now, my body wanted release—a hard and fast nerve-tingling orgasm.
My body quivered beneath his, our groans and pants tangled together in a chorus of need as his pace quickened. Ever nerve came to attention as the bundle of burning pressure grew. I caught his lips as the initial wave of the orgasm slammed through me; his taste filled my mouth, his tongue pressing against my own.
He continued thrusting as the trembling orgasm exploded through me. Harder, deeper, faster, until he groaned and shook above me. I rubbed my hands down his sweat-slicked chest as he rolled off me and pulled my body against his.
As we lay on the floor, catching our breath, I laid my head on his arm and traced the contours of his muscles with my index finger.
I felt full and content, the happiest I had ever felt in my life. We’d come through hell together, fought for each other, and with each other, and as much as that past made me want to scorch my own skin sometimes, looking back at the pain reminded me of how far we’d come. What we were capable of. It made every kiss sweeter. Every breath deeper.
I finally came to terms with everything that happened and realized that I wouldn’t change even the darkest parts of my story, because as badly as the wounds hurt, the pain meant I still had a chance at happiness. And the pain had led me to the man who could help me find it.
“What are you thinking, Sugar?” James asked, trailing his fingers down my jawline.
“That I’m lucky,” Alley’s words flashed through my head. My last memory of her was when she was holding the gun just after the bullet sliced through my arm. But that wasn’t her. She’d let the darkness consume her, simply because she didn’t know how to live without it.
“I love you, Rose.”
“Good,” I smirked, “then you can show me in all of the other rooms of the cabin.”
James chuckled and rolled me onto his chest. “You should have told me I’d have to pace myself.”
“Then, let’s hop in the shower and you can recover. Now that you’re fully warned, you can pace yourself for the rest of the night.”
He playfully smacked my thigh and I leaned forward and whispered against his ear. “I love you, too.”
About The Author
I was born and raised in rural Ohio and will always be a country girl at heart with a love for reading and writing. I’ve spent my life chained to the imaginary worlds of the characters who live in my head, and thanks to the encouragement of teachers, friends, and family, I started writing their stories down. In college, I separated from fiction and earned a M.A. in Public History, but in 2011, I decided that I had spent far too long away from the world of fiction.
Many of my early stories were paranormal, and although the paranormal will always have a special room in my imagination, my interest in BDSM and dark romance has recent
ly led me to expand my focus.
When I’m not spending time with the voices in my head, I work for a non-profit consulting center, offer my technical services to other writers and small businesses, and enjoy life with my husband and the ghosts of our dearly departed ferrets.
I’d love to hear from you!
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A Special Connection
by
Theresa Troutman
Prologue
I don’t know why I lived and they died. The night it happened plays in a continuous loop in my brain, my recurring nightmare.
I started out as a happy person—really, I did. Tragically, that changed five years ago on a rainy December evening. I was twelve years old at the time, riding in the back seat of the car. My dad was driving on a winding road. One minute I was laughing with my parents; the next minute I was waking up in the hospital.
My left leg was shattered in the accident. In the months that followed, I went through a lot of physical therapy. Between my injuries and my grief, I ended up missing the rest of the school year. The leg never healed properly and I was forced to use a crutch to help me walk.
My only living relative was my granddad, and he did the best he could. He was eighty years old and kind of lost without my grandmother. We were two pathetic peas in a pod. At times, I’m not sure who hobbled more, me or him.
I got my parents’ life insurance money, which was a big help in paying all the medical bills. Between the two of them, I inherited one million dollars. My granddad insisted some of the money go into a college fund. I didn’t argue. When you’re twelve, the last thing you’re thinking about is a college education. He told me, “College will be here before you know it, Jake.” He was right. Now I’m in my freshman year at Villanova University.
Why Villanova? For starters, it was close to home. I commuted to classes so I could stay at home and keep an eye on Granddad. The second reason was my two best friends, Rick and Sam.
Chapter One
I was trying to hurry to my class, but my stupid leg wouldn’t cooperate. Even after all the physical therapy and hard work, I would forever have a limp—definitely not sexy to the girls or manly enough for the guys. I made it to class just as the professor began his lecture. My professors never gave me any problems due to my ‘disability’ and I always sat in the front row of every class so I didn’t have to hobble very far. Slumping into the chair, I grabbed my notebook from my backpack.
College life was so different from high school. In high school I was laughed at and ridiculed. My life sucked. I was the resident cripple boy. Now, people didn’t seem to pay any attention to me. It went from one extreme to another. I had to admit, this new phase of my life took some getting used to.
I opened my notebook. There was a small cartoon doodle of three stick figures: a boy, a girl, and a boy with a squiggle leg. All of their arms were interlinked. I’d know Samantha’s handiwork anywhere. She had a brilliant mind, but she’d never make a go of it as an artist. She had written, Meet you in the library at 3:00. Love you! Samantha.
I loved Samantha Andrews. She was one of my best friends. It wasn’t a sexual love, but something much deeper, I think. I was an eighteen-year-old virgin and had never kissed a girl. What did I know? We met freshman year of high school. Sam was the only girl who could look me in the eye and talk to me. She wasn’t like the other girls, who would make comments about me behind my back and avoid my glances. She was wicked smart, which was a huge help to me because she became my study partner. Thanks to Sam, my grades were good. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.
My other best friend was Rick Welsh. He lived next door to my granddad’s house and I met him after the accident. Rick was the star basketball player on our high school’s team. At six-foot five, with blond hair, ripped muscles, and a charming grin, he was every girl’s dream and every guy’s envy. We were an unlikely pair; the kid that could run and jump with finesse and ease was partnered with the limping slowpoke. The thing that sealed the deal for me and made us lifelong friends was the day Rick defended me against a bully who tripped me in the hall my freshman year. Rick was one of the cool kids and I’m sure he took some flak for standing up for me, but no one ever physically touched me after that incident. And for that I have Rick to thank.
I made my way over to the round table by the window in the library. Sam and Rick were already seated, the picture of a perfect couple. They’d been dating for a little more than a year. When they first got together, I felt very awkward about it, but did my best to hide my feelings. These two people meant the world to me and I didn’t want to lose their friendship due to a bout of jealousy.
“Hi,” I greeted, taking a seat next to Sam. She was wearing a form-fitting, white polo shirt tucked into her belted black jeans. Her brunette hair fell over her shoulders. Sam had perfect hair, like a model in a shampoo commercial perfectly straight, no frizz or flyaways.
“Jake, did you work on your essay last night? I could take a look at it for you,” Sam offered.
“I could use your help,” I admitted. I pulled my laptop out of my bag and turned it on. Once I’d opened my file, I slid the computer toward Sam. She began reading at once.
“You’re not going to miss my game, are you?” Rick asked.
“No, Richard,” Samantha said, sounding like a tired old housewife. “Jake and I will be there for the game.”
I chuckled. “I don’t know, Rick. You’ve seen one basketball game, you’ve seen them all.”
“Hey, there will be an NBA scout coming to watch the game tonight! You two are my good luck charms.”
“You can’t possibly expect the scout to pick you out of all the players.”
“Gee, Sam, thanks for the support.”
“I’m just being realistic. You should stay in school and get your degree. You’re on a scholarship and you should take advantage of that. You’ll be glad you did when your NBA career is over,” Sam said.
“Well, at least you believe I can have an NBA career.”
“Of course I do.” Sam leaned in and kissed Rick on the cheek. “You’re an amazing player. I believe if you work hard, you can get drafted.”
Her remark lightened Rick’s mood. I was happy to avoid being caught in the middle of one of their arguments.
“I gotta go,” Rick said. “I’ll see you both tonight.”
Sam watched Rick as he exited the library. “Thanks for playing nice,” I remarked.
“No point in fighting with him now, only to ruin his game.”
“You’re a wise woman, Sam.”
“Yes, I know.”
“And very humble,” I teased.
“I can’t help it that I’m usually right,” she said with a wicked grin.
“I’m going home after we finish here. I promised Jenna I’d give her a lift to the game tonight.” Jenna was Rick’s younger sister. She was seventeen and in her senior year of high school. The Welshes lived next door to me and my granddad, so it was no big deal to have her tag along.
“Great. It will be good to see her.”
The gymnasium was filled to capacity. There was a buzz of excitement emanating through the crowd. They were psyched that it was Friday and the Villanova Wildcats were playing their rival, Georgetown. The bleachers were a sea of blue and white. People were holding banners and pom-poms, geared up for a showdown. I sat between Sam and Jenna. Sam was holding onto my hand so tightly it had become numb. I don’t know what type of drug Rick was taking, but I wanted some, too. He was on: flawless, strong, and energetic. I wished I knew how that felt. I longed for the gazes of admiration that came with being a star athlete.
“Samantha, I’m losing feeling in my hand,” I gently whispered in her ear a
s she watched Rick bound down the court with great intensity.
When my words finally sunk into her brain, she released my hand. “I’m sorry, Jake. God, I’m so nervous for him.”
“He’s having the game of his life. If that scout is watching, he’ll certainly leave a lasting impression.”
She looked at me and smiled. “I hope you’re right.”
The clock began to count down the final seconds and Rick was in possession of the ball. He poised for the three-point shot.
“He’ll never make it,” Sam said.
“Just watch,” I responded as the ball sailed through the air and hit the rim of the basket, tipping into the net. Rick did it! Our team won the game.
The crowd roared to life. Pandemonium ensued as fans rushed the court. Sam jumped up and down on the bleachers, screaming her excitement. The next thing I knew, she was in my arms. In that moment, I swear time stopped. Sam and I had a platonic friendship; I didn’t understand why I was feeling an odd flutter in my gut. Then she kissed me on the lips. It was just a quick, friendly kiss, but it surprised me. I sucked in a breath. Before I could say anything, Samantha was passing me and running down to the court to congratulate Rick.
Maybe it was best she’d left me. What could I possibly say to her? Jenna stood next to me. She silently put her hand on my shoulder and gave a faint smile. We sat together in silence, waiting for the rest of the people to leave the stands so I could hobble down alone and undetected once the gym was empty.
The next morning, Rick walked up the front porch stairs to my house, his hands in his pockets to ward off the December chill. “What are you doing sitting out here? It’s freezing.”
“Just needed to clear my head.”
“About what?”
“Nothing,” I lied. How could I tell my best friend I’d been dreaming of his girlfriend all night?
“Sam and I looked for you after the game. Where did you go?”