His eyes widened and they locked with mine, sending a bolt of electricity through me so heavily charged that my pulse thrummed everywhere along my veins. His gaze was a prison. I couldn’t move my focus from him, couldn’t move at all. Like a wild animal caught in the sight line of a predator, I was frozen and alarmed.
He sat forward, his legs tensing as if he were ready to pounce. Ready to chase me. My heart knocked louder against my rib cage. So loud I was certain that any second she’d hear it and discover me.
But she remained oblivious, while, in my periphery, I was aware of her still – of her hands sliding down his chest, of her voice when she exclaimed, “Looks like you’re interested now.”
So he was hard. And his eyes were still fastened stubbornly on mine.
It was less decision and more primal instinct that knocked me from my stupor. I leapt from my chair and darted noiselessly through the closest door of the building behind me.
He would follow – I practically felt him bound out of his chair after me. But he had to make his excuses to Amber then he had a pool to circle around and I had a head start. Once I was through this hallway, it was only a quick diagonal sprint across the common area before I’d be safe in my room. Not that a locked door could stop Reeve if he were determined.
I emerged from the hall and was three steps into the room before I saw him. He’d come in the other door, cutting me off. He stilled, ready to give chase if I fled from him.
But I didn’t run away. I walked toward him.
He met me and our mouths crashed together. He devoured me, and I consumed him. I inhaled him. I took him into my very self in deep gulps of tongue and lips, my hands wrapped so tightly around him, they were a vice grip at his neck.
He walked me backward until my back hit the wall and pressed firmly against me, locking me in place, his erection throbbing against my belly through the thin cloth of his swim trunks.
Gripping my ass in his hands, he tilted my hips to stroke his cock. “This is for you,” he said against my mouth, breathless. “Not her.”
“I know.” I pushed my body into him. “You moved her to the master bedroom,” I said, sinking my teeth into his jaw. “I thought you were sleeping with her. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t?”
He gathered the damp strands of my hair and pushed them behind my shoulders. “I might have wanted you to think that I was.”
“You wanted me jealous.” I could have kicked him if I wasn’t so busy tasting every inch of his skin.
He lowered his forehead to mine. “I wanted you to realize that you still want me.”
I pulled back so he could see my eyes. “I always realized that I wanted you.”
“Shh,” Reeve mouthed, putting a finger over my mouth. I listened and heard a loud knock sound from the hallway he had entered through. Someone – Amber – rapping on a door.
He pulled me around the corner, hiding us in the opposite hallway. “She’s at my room,” he whispered. “The door’s locked. She won’t know I’m not in there.”
He’d been that nearby. Those nights I’d wished for him at my door, imagined he was fucking her, he’d really been sleeping alone, just a hallway away.
I shared my appreciation by licking up the line of his neck.
His cock pulsed against me in response.
I froze at the sound of another loud rap. Silence followed. Then waiting. Then footsteps sounded in the common room.
Reeve peeked his head around the wall. I held still, slowing my breath until I heard a door fling open a few seconds later.
He returned his focus to me, pinning his eyes on my lips. “She’s in your room now.”
I wondered if she’d worry where I was. If she’d automatically assume I was with Reeve. I wondered if I cared.
“Did she see me outside?” I asked, assessing the situation.
He shook his head. “She couldn’t have.”
I bit my lip, torn. I was so completely taken with the man in front of me. He was the master of my heart and my body. Maybe even the master of my soul.
But she still held parts of me in her clutch, still had power over them like a voodoo queen in possession of a doll in my likeness.
Reeve brought his hands to rest at either side of my neck. “I need you, Emily.” It was sweeter than any admission of love he’d ever made. It was honest and real and raw.
I brought my fingers up to touch his face. “I need you, too.” And it was the most honest and real and raw I’d been with him. The most I’d ever admitted. It was a promise to admit more.
But not while she was waiting for me in my room.
“I have to talk to her, Reeve.” I couldn’t stop staring at his lips, wanting them everywhere on me, imagining them so vividly I could feel them. Then I was feeling them because he was kissing me, owning my entire body with just his mouth.
I was tired of fighting it – no matter what I did or said, I belonged to him. I always would.
Summoning strength that only came from knowing we’d be together again shortly, I pushed out of his arms. “I’ll come to your room,” I promised, already heading toward mine.
In a hushed voice, he called after me. “Will you actually come?”
“Yes.” I was even pretty sure I meant it.
CHAPTER 21
I’d seen Amber around the neighborhood for some time before I ever learned her name.
The guy next door, Doug, had been a dealer. Nothing serious – pot, LSD, ’shrooms, X. He was a sixty-year-old hippie with hair twice as long as mine and a different person or set of people camped out on his couch every week. I had no access to cash in high school. My mother spent everything she earned on booze and taking care of her as well as myself hadn’t left anytime for a job, so I rarely was able to take advantage of the plethora of recreational drugs on the other side of the duplex wall.
Until Amber showed up.
I’d see her outside smoking when I took out the trash or sometimes I’d bump into her at the 7-11 down the block. Every time she’d say hello or wave, and the best I’d ever manage in response would be a shy smile before I ducked my head down. I’d been sixteen and awkward. I’d had acne, and my breasts were embarrassingly large, and communication was not an area I’d had any skill in. Amber, on the other hand, was beautiful and put together and charismatic. I’d been envious of her from afar. I’d also had more than a little bit of a crush.
“You swim a lot,” she’d said to me one June day the summer after my junior year. She’d been sitting on Doug’s front porch steps, smoking when I’d gotten home from practice. Of course she’d be there when I had forgotten to bring my bag with my towel and change of clothes. I’d dripped for most of the six-block walk.
As always, her hair and clothing had been perfect. I’d been mortified to be seen in my still-wet ratty one-piece. “I’m on a team,” I’d said, covering myself by hugging my arms across my chest.
I’d hurried on, hoping to get in my front door before she talked to me again.
But she’d called after me. “Any good?”
I’d stopped and turned back to her. “Our team? Not really.”
It was a neighborhood league. Our coach was the mother of one of the team members. I’d only been invited because they’d needed another swimmer to have enough members for relay competitions.
Amber had smiled, her glossy lips shining in the afternoon sun. “I bet you’re being too hard on yourself.” She picked up the pack of cigarettes on the porch beside her and held it out to me. “Want one?”
I’d smoked before, but I hadn’t been good at it, and I hadn’t liked it much.
Still, I’d said, “Sure.”
She’d lit my cigarette for me then I’d spent the next several minutes feeling stupid because I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“I’m Amber, by the way. Emily, right?” she’d asked, blowing a ring of smoke in my direction.
“Yeah.” I’d never told her my name, but it had made me feel cool that she’d known
it.
“I’ve heard your mother yelling it,” she’d explained.
“Oh. Sorry about her.” I’d dropped my head at the mention of my mother, as embarrassed about my parent as I’d been about the way I’d looked in my swimsuit.
Then, worried she’d want to talk more about my mother, I’d asked, “Do you live with Doug?”
“For now.”
“Cool.” And we’d returned to silence that was awkward – for me, anyway. I’d just met her, but I was already sure that Amber had never had an awkward moment in her life. I’d racked my brain to come up with something to say – anything. Finally, when she’d opened her purse to drop her lighter inside, I’d found an opportunity. “I like your bag.”
It had been a Gucci. Too nice to be a knockoff.
“Thanks. My uncle gave it to me.” It was much later before I’d learned that her uncle was her married lover. That day, she’d said uncle and I’d assumed she’d really meant uncle.
She’d stood up then and pulled her blond hair back to show off her ears. “He gave me these too. Like?”
I’d leaned in closer than necessary to study her solitaire diamond studs. She’d smelled good, like menthol smoke and expensive shampoo. “They’re gorgeous,” I’d said, fingering one of the jewels, and I’d really wanted to say you’re gorgeous.
She put her cigarette out and cocked her head at me. “What are you doing now, anyway?”
“Just going to change.”
“After that. Wanna get high and hang out?”
It hadn’t dawned on me until then that she was likely working for Doug. An associate dealer, or something. She’d probably only talked to me so she could sell a bag.
“I don’t have any money.” It hurt to admit, not because I’d been embarrassed about being poor, but because I’d figured that would be the end of our conversation, and I hadn’t wanted to stop talking to her yet.
So I’d lit up like Christmas when instead of blowing me off she’d said, “No worries. My treat.”
We’d spent the rest of the afternoon together, smoking pot and dining on junk food. Later, she’d taken me to an apartment building construction site a few blocks away. It had been late in the day and most of the workers had gone home. The few that lingered had paid us no mind when she pulled me inside one of the stairwells and up to the top floor. I’d followed her through the maze of drywall and exposed pipes to what would eventually be a balcony. There hadn’t been a railing installed yet, so we’d sat at the edge, dangling our feet over the side. It had only been three stories up, but it had felt like so much higher, and not just because we’d been stoned.
We made our own little nest up there, smoking cigarettes and drinking Diet Coke and for the next few hours, time stood still as we talked and got to know each other.
Mostly, it had been Amber getting to know me. She was good at asking questions and even better at making me feel comfortable enough to answer them.
“What’s with all the baggy shirts you’re always wearing?” she’d asked, tugging on the oversized Dodgers T-shirt I’d changed into after stripping from my swimsuit. “You have great tits under there.”
“No, I don’t,” I’d giggled, my cheeks hot. “They’re… too big.”
“Baby, there’s no such thing as too big when it comes to tits. Show them to me.”
“Okay.” I hadn’t known what else to say. I’d figured she was kidding anyway. But then she was staring at me, waiting. “Right now?”
“Yeah, right now.” She followed my gaze as I surveyed the men working below. “Ignore them. You’ll make their year. Give them a new fantasy to whack off to later.”
“Okay.” I’d never done anything like strip in public. I was nervous and scared, but I wanted my new friend to think I was cool and brave like she was. So I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head.
“All of it,” she coaxed, when I paused before removing my bra.
A second later, I was topless, my DD breasts on display.
Hollers and catcalls came from the construction crew, but it was Amber’s response that had goose bumps puckering my skin.
“Jesus, Em, they’re incredible!” She leaned toward me, and, without asking, plumped a breast with her hand. “If I had your tits, I swear, I’d… I don’t know. I’d make all the men happy. No more of this sports bra shit.” She snagged my bra out of my hand and tossed it to the ground before I had a chance to stop her. “You need nice underwear for a premium rack like this.”
“But I don’t own any other kinds of bras.” I hurried to put my shirt back on, in case she got the idea to toss it as well.
“I’ll take you shopping. I have an open account at Nordstrom’s. I’ll buy you something sexy.”
I hugged my knees to my chest, strangely bashful after I’d put my clothes back on. “You have an open account? How the hell do you have that?”
“My uncle. He’s rich.”
“Nice uncle.” I’d been tentative about asking Amber questions, afraid I’d say something wrong and piss her off, but my curiosity got the better of me. “Why isn’t this rich uncle putting you up somewhere better than Doug’s house?”
She leaned back on her elbows and gave me an even look. “Good question. I guess I haven’t earned it yet.” It had been an interesting response, one that raised more questions than it answered.
I didn’t get a chance to find out if I was brave enough to ask anything further, though. Because apparently Amber had questions of her own, and she launched into a series of them, shooting them off one after another. “Have you had sex?”
“Yes.”
“More than oral?”
“Yes.” Once. It counted.
“A boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Do you shave your pussy?”
I blushed again. “I trim.”
“Have you ever kissed a girl?”
My blush deepened. “I have not.”
“Would you?”
“Yes. Probably.” But I was afraid she’d think I was gay and that she’d feel uncomfortable so I added, “But I like dick.”
Then I was afraid she might be a lesbian herself, and what if I’d just made her not want to be my friend because I’d said I liked dick?
I needn’t have worried.
“Yeah,” she’d said. “I like dick too. Have you fucked an older guy?”
“Yes. Two months older.”
“That’s not older,” she laughed. “Would you fuck an older guy?”
“Like how old? Like Doug?”
She cringed. “No. Not like Doug.” A second later, she reconsidered. “I mean, if Doug had something better to offer you than drugs, then maybe, but otherwise, do not fuck a guy like Doug.”
“Okay. I won’t.” It had been strange advice, but everything about her was so wise and mature that I’d figured I was just unsophisticated.
“Would you fuck my dad?”
“No!”
“You don’t even know what he looks like!”
“Oh.” I chewed my lip, unsure what the correct answer was. “Is he hot?”
“No.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. People say he’s good-looking.”
I studied her, again trying to guess at the right thing to say. Much later, when I recalled that conversation, I didn’t remember anything unusual about the tone she’d used to talk about her father. It had been casual. A bit bored, maybe. The way any teenager talked about a parental unit. There’d been no hint of animosity or fear or resentment or even attraction.
When Joe had located her father in a California prison, I’d finally gotten to see a picture of the man. Surprisingly, he actually was hot. It made sense – his daughter was beautiful. Genetics usually played a role in that. It stood to reason he’d be attractive as well. But by that time, I’d already known for a while that he’d been a pedophile who’d raped his own daughter for years before she’d gotten the guts to run away to live on Doug’s couch. I’d just figured that, since he wa
s so much of a monster on the inside, he probably looked like a monster on the outside.
It was a ridiculous assumption. Hadn’t I learned early on that the people with monster insides were always the most beautiful on the outside?
That first night, though, I hadn’t known much about monsters at all. And I certainly hadn’t known that Amber’s father was the monster that hid under her bed. Even if I had, I don’t know if I could have guessed how she wanted me to respond to her line of questioning. In the end, I had asked point blank, “Do you want me to say I’d fuck him?”
“Yes.”
I’d gaped at the unexpected answer. I’d known nothing about her, though, so my expectations were based on absolutely nothing. My imagination flew with scenarios of what her life must have been like to lead to that response: She thought her father was lonely. She hated her mother. Her mother was dead and she hated her stepmom. She’d run away because of her stepmom. She wanted me to be her stepmom. Because she liked me. Because she wanted me to be tied to her forever.
Hope, I think, was what led me to ask, “Why would you want me to fuck your dad?”
She looked at me like I was an idiot. “How else would you get close enough to kill him?”
I’d laughed. It was funny because it was so startling. And it was revealing. Without details, it told me that he was the reason she’d run away. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it, but she’d wanted me to know.
Then she moved on. “Would you jump from here if I asked you to?”
I didn’t even blink. “Yes.” I was pretty sure I would have done anything she’d asked at that point. Even jump off a balcony that was three stories high.
“Damn.” It was nice to surprise her for a change. “I think I love you.”
“Really?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Really.”
My throat suddenly felt thick. No one had ever said they’d loved me. Not my mother. Not any of the casual friends I’d made in my life. Not any of the boys who’d put their dicks in my mouth and not the one who’d taken my virginity.
So even though I’d known that she might not have meant it the way most people meant it, and that I might very well never see her again after that night, it had affected me to hear her say it. It had affected me to hear her say anything. To just spend time with me. It was honestly the most attention anyone had ever given me.
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