by K. A. Tucker
I shake my head as I look down at the bike with hesitation. “Not a lot of protection between me and three tons of moving metal when I’m on this,” I say. Who am I kidding? I’m not safe riding in three tons of metal. I’ve learned that firsthand.
A gentle fingertip pushes my chin up until I’m looking at Trent’s earnest eyes. “I’ll keep you safe, Kacey. Just hold on to me. Tight.” I let him place the helmet on my head and gently fasten the strap around my chin, his deft fingers brushing my skin in a way that sends shivers through my body. A ghost of a smile passes his lips. “Or are you too scared?”
Now he’s challenging me. Like he knows I’ll react to that. I can’t help but react. I’m like one of those idiots in the movies who slams on their gas pedal and attempts to sail over a two hundred foot gap in the road because someone said the word dare. My dad got hours of entertainment at my expense for that reason.
“I’m not scared of anything,” I lie smoothly. I climb on behind Trent and shimmy up until my thighs hug either side of his hips. Heat explodes through the lower half of my body, but I do my best to ignore it, wrapping my arms around his torso.
“Nothing, at all? Not even a bit nervous?” his brow quirks as he glances over his shoulder at me. “It’s okay. You can admit it. Most girls are nervous about riding on bikes.”
A flash of jealousy sparks inside of me at the thought of him with another girl. I quickly quell it. “Do I seem like most girls?” My hands slide around his chest, running along the contours of his body, my fingers slipping through the seam of his shirt to graze the smooth ridges of his muscles underneath. For added effect, I lean forward and press my teeth against his shoulder.
Trent’s chest rises with a quick inhale as his hands lift to grab mine and pull them out, placing them with a pat on the outside of his shirt. “Okay, you win. But don’t do that while I’m driving or we’ll end up in a ditch.” He looks over his shoulder again, adding in a soft, solemn tone, “I’m serious, Kacey. I can’t handle it.”
Another burst of warmth erupts through my thighs but I take his warning to heart and lace my fingers around each other at his waist, pressing my body against his. “Where’re we going?”
The low rumble of Trent’s bike is the only answer I get and then we’re moving.
Without thought, I hug his body tight as we weave in and out of traffic. Trent turns out to be a cautious driver, giving everyone a wide berth, following all the laws. I like that. I feel safe with him. And that scares the shit out of me. It makes me want to jump off this moving bike and run home to hide under my covers because he’s just too damn perfect. I squeeze him tightly instead.
It’s not until Trent turns onto the interstate and heads south that I realize we’re not going to the beach. He’s taking me away, somewhere far.
In so many ways, I think he already has.
***
“You know my sister thinks you like to shove kittens in ATMs,” I say as Trent cuts the engine in an Everglades National Park parking lot. “You know, like from American Psycho.”
His forehead creases. “Really? I thought she liked me.”
“Oh, she does, I can tell.” I make sure my voice sounds casual as I slide off the bike and take off my helmet. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be crazy.”
“Huh. ” Trent’s long leg swings around the seat. “How old is Livie again?”
“Fifteen.”
“She’s smart, that one.” I catch the sly smile as he grabs a little cooler bag from a compartment on the bike. “Come on. Let me lead you into the dark, secluded wilderness over there.” He jerks his head toward a bunch of hiking signs, flashing me a set of dark eyes and deep dimples. The signs come with warnings of wildlife dangers. I can’t help but wonder if they should also have warnings of idiot girls who follow guys they hardly know into the swamp.
The sun is beginning to sink toward the horizon as we walk down the paved pathway. The trail looks well maintained but it’s quiet. As we move further and further in, as the eeriness closes in around us and the air grows thick and heady with the unknown, I can’t help but wonder what Trent’s plan is. “So why are we in the Everglades?”
He shrugs, looking over his shoulder. “I’ve never been. Have you?”
I shake my head.
“Well, we live in Miami so I figured we should go.”
“I guess that’s a good reason,” I mumble as we edge along the trail, lined with tall grasses wrapped in shadows from the late day sun. The perfect place to get rid of a body. “So is this going to be a reenactment of a CSI Miami episode?” I blurt out. Damn you for freaking me out, Livie.
Trent stops and turns to study me with a furrowed brow and an amused smile. “Are you seriously worried?”
I shrug. “I’m sure I’ve seen this episode before. Guy takes girl to remote shack in the Everglades, has his way with her for a few days, and then leaves her body to the alligators so there’s no evidence.”
He opens his mouth to answer, but then pauses as if in thought. “Well, probably only twenty-four hours. I have a deadline for work tomorrow.”
I cock my head, weighing his movements.
“Come on, Kacey!” he bursts out with amazed laughter. “I have never, nor will I ever stuff a kitten into an ATM! I’m more of a dog person, anyway.”
My arms fold over my chest, my brow arching. “You know I can handle myself pretty well, right?”
He chuckles, blue irises sliding over my body, shooting tremors through me. “Oh, believe me. I know you can. You could probably have me flat on my back in under five seconds.” I wish. “Come on.” He grabs hold of my elbow and pulls me forward so we’re walking side by side. On impulse, I unfold my arms and grab his hand, pulling it up to my mouth to kiss his knuckles.
Pleasant surprise flickers in his eyes. With a lop-sided grin, he switches hands so he can haul me into his body, tossing his arm around my shoulder. He lifts my hand and holds it against his chest. We walk like that in silence, allowing me to feel his heartbeat. It’s fast and hard and so damn alive.
“So what do you wanna know?”
“What?” I frown.
“Well, you said Livie thinks you should know more about me so what do you wanna know?” His tone softens, his face somber, as he stares forward, and I sense a shift in the air. A hint of tension, like we’re encroaching on a topic he’s not comfortable with either.
“Umm …” The less we talk about each other’s lives, the better. But secretly, I have to admit I want to know everything about him. Right down to the type of soap he uses in the shower. “Well, you already know what I do for a living. What do you do?”
His shoulders slump a little as if relieved by the topic. “Graphic design.”
“Really? A computer geek? Never would have guessed.” Seriously, I look at his perfect body and I never would have guessed. He smiles at my jibe. “And who do you work for?”
“Myself. It’s great. I don’t have to go anywhere or report to anyone except my clients. I can pick up and move if I want, which is what I did. I can design, naked in my living room all day and no one has a clue.”
“That’s … uh …” Trent crushes my shoulder and hand to keep me upright as I trip over my own two feet. Swirls of light and dark fill my vision at the mental image Trent’s just painted. Dammit! By the smirk on his face, he knows what saying things like that does to me. I decide I’ll be breaking down his front door one day soon, alligator or not. I also decide I need to change the topic of conversation before my body drops to the ground and flops around like a fish out of water.
“Where’d you learn how to hit a bag?”
He laughs again. “I was into sports a lot, back in high school and college. It’s a good stress reliever, that’s all.” His thumb rubs my shoulder as we walk on and my heart swells.
“Are both of your parents in Rochester?” I ask, shocking even myself. Now that I’ve started prying, it’s like I can’t stop. Worse, I’m asking all the questions I can’t answer
about myself. “Sorry,” I shake my head. “I … it’s none of my—”
Trent’s soft chuckle stops my sputtering. “My dad’s in Manhattan, my mom’s in Rochester. Divorced, obviously.” He offers the information but I can’t help notice his shoulders tense, like it’s not something he’s comfortable talking about.
I bite my tongue and we continue in silence.
“What else do you want to know, Kace?” He looks down at me. “Ask me whatever you want.”
“What do you want to tell me?”
“Everything.”
I’m shaking my head. “I’m sure there’re things you want to keep to yourself.”
“Yes, some things are hard to talk about. But I’ll tell you.” His hand squeezes mine. “I want you to know me.”
“Okay.” My voice is soft and weak now and I feel that I have to lay my cards on the table. “So you know, I’m not big on talking about some things.”
I hear the soft exhale of air. “I’ve noticed. Can you at least tell me what’s off limits?”
“My past. My family.”
Trent’s jaw tenses but, after a moment, he nods. “That’s a big part of you, Kacey. But, okay. We won’t talk about that stuff until you’re ready.”
I look up and see Trent’s blue eyes crinkle with sincerity, and I’m filled with sadness. I’ll never be ready to talk about those things. Ever. I don’t say that though. I just nod and say, “thank you.”
He pulls me closer to him, his lips parting as he lays an intimate kiss on my forehead.
***
After touring the lengthy boardwalk that stretches out over the water—bumping into a small group of park rangers patrolling the area—we find a seat on a stone wall. Trent unzips the cooler bag and hands me a cold bottle of water. It’s only then that I realize how parched I am, having been distracted with watching Trent’s relaxed stride up until now. “I figured it’d be hot out. I just really want to see a gator. Then we can grab a bite to eat,” he promises.
“This is perfect, Trent. Really.” And it is. Absolutely perfect. We’re overlooking the marshlands as a golden sun sinks into the water, painting the sky in hues of pink and purple. The sounds of soft water ripples and strange bird squawks float through the air. It’s just about the most peaceful place I’ve ever been. Of course, anywhere would be perfect with Trent.
“Yeah?” He rests his hand on the back of my neck, his fingers lingering along the collar of my shirt, slipping under to graze along my bare skin. I shiver in response.
“Cold?” he teases.
I give him a crooked smile. “No. Distracted. You’re going to make me choke on my water.”
He dips his head in assent as he pulls his hand away, earning a blip of disappointment inside me. It’s quickly squashed with concern.
“Look! Do you see that?” Trent’s voice raises an octave and his hand moves back to my shoulder as he leans in. He stretches his other arm out to point out the long narrow head peeking out from the water’s surface no more than twenty feet from us.
My appetite vanishes instantly. “Ohmigod. Is he watching us?”
“Maybe. Hard to tell.”
“Don’t those things move ridiculously fast?” I swallow repeatedly, more than a little freaked out. Gators in enclosures at a zoo are one thing. There aren’t any walls separating us here.
“Don’t worry. I did some research before we came. This trail is popular for seeing alligators up close. The park rangers are just down that way, in any case.”
“If you say so,” I murmur, noting how close Trent’s mouth is next to me. So close, I could just lean in and …
My lips graze the corner of his mouth, catching him off guard. Turning to face me, he regards me with a momentary flicker of surprise. But only a moment, and then he leans in to cover my lips with his. He kisses me tenderly, his hand finding its way to my chin to turn my head, his thumb gripping my jaw as he pulls my knees close to him with his other hand. My breath hitches as his tongue runs along the edge of my lips before sweeping into my mouth, sending a shock through my body. I can’t help but reach for him, my fingers settling on the curves of his chest.
He releases the lightest growl as he breaks free. His biceps flex as he scoops my body up onto his lap, and burrows his head into my neck, taking my lobe into his mouth, nipping it painlessly. My hand skates over his throat, reveling in the thickness of it, of its muscles. As my thumb slides over his Adam’s apple, and his mouth trails kisses all along my neck, I close my eyes and let my head rest against his, weightless and floating in his midst, under his control. Under his touch.
“Kace,” he whispers.
I make a strange half moan, half gurgle noise in response.
“Are you afraid?”
Afraid? Peeking out of one eye, I check the marsh to see our observer in the same spot. “He hasn’t moved yet, but I have to tell you, I doubt I can drive that bike back if you lose a leg tonight.”
Trent bursts out laughing and I feel the vibrations right down into my nipples, he’s so close. “I’ll be fine for tonight. I still need to have my way with you. The shack’s back that way.” His head jerks behind us.
“I hope you’ve put fresh sheets down at least.”
With another chuckle, Trent settles his head against my shoulder as I sit in anxious silence, watching the alligator drift away to join his little friends. I wonder if it can sense the hold that Trent has placed on me. With little effort, within weeks, Trent has torn down my self-preservative defenses and fear, quickly earning himself a place of necessity in my life. And then it dawns on me what Trent was asking. Am I afraid of this.
“I’m terrified,” I whisper. At first I don’t think he heard me. But then he turns to study the contours of my face, his brows drawn together, and I know that he did. “I … um … I … it’s been a while since I’ve done this,” I go on to say. I've never done this. Ever. Nothing close to this. “And this …” I hold up my hand within his. “Just this alone is kind of a big deal for me.”
He lifts my hand to press against his lips. Then he clears his throat. “Look, Kacey. What happened in your room that day…”
I feel my brow furrow, searching. My room?
“The snake in your shower?”
Oh, yeah. My heart jolts like a thousand watt current just zapped it with the reminder.
“I’m … uh,” he stretches his long legs out in front of him but holds me tight on his lap. “I’m trying hard not to let that happen again. For now.”
He must be able to read the disappointment that smashes into me because he quickly explains himself, his eyes wide and earnest. “It’s not that I don’t want it or you.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows. “Believe me, I’m sure you know exactly how much I do want that right now.”
I smile, wiggling in his lap.
He chuckles, my actions breaking his serious note. But it comes back quickly. “I have a hard time—a really hard time—controlling myself around you, Kacey. You’re unbelievably attractive and I’m a guy. It doesn’t take much for you to dissolve my will power. But I think we need to move slow. Take our time.” He gives me a meaningful look, like he understands more about me than I’ve told him. “I think that’s important, for both of us.”
I open my mouth to speak, but I’m not sure how to respond yet. He’s right. Slow is good. Slow is safe. But right now, with his fingertips back on my collar, feeling his excitement digging into me, I don’t want slow. I want a sudsy hot mess.
I allow myself a moment for a deep breath to try and regulate my spastic heart. “Who says I want anything with you? You assume a lot.”
“Maybe I do.” With a crooked smile, his hand slips up under the back of my shirt, moving painstakingly slow up along my spine, earning a slight gasp from me.
“Yeah, that’s slow alright,” I croak.
“Am I assuming too much right now?”
I shake my head lightly to let him know that he’s not assuming anything. I’ll happily
take anything from Trent that I can get. Slow or fast.
His fingers fan out as they skate over my bare skin, sliding to my rib cage to graze the various scar ridges. His thumb strokes back and forth. “Couldn’t help but notice you have a few of these.”
I’m used to people questioning my scars. I’ve learned to shrug them off smoothly. “Oh yeah? When’d you see those?”
He gives me a wry smile.
“Pervert.” I try to push off my embarrassment, but I feel my cheeks flush anyway.
His face smooths away to seriousness. “Is that part of the past you don’t want to talk about?”
“Man-eating snake attack in a shower. It’s a reoccurring problem for me.”
He chuckles softly, but the mirth never reaches his eyes. Sliding his hand out from under my shirt, he pushes my sleeve up to expose the thin white line on my shoulder. Leaning in, his bottom lip grazes over it. “Sometimes it helps to talk, Kace.”
“Can we please just stick to the here and now?” I beg softly, confused by the conflicting reaction in my body, both rigid and liquefying under his attention. “I don’t want to spoil this.”
“Yeah, for now.” He lifts his head to look at me again, tucking a strand of my hair back behind my ear. “You don’t smile enough.”
“I smile tons. From eight p.m. until one a.m. from Tuesday until Sunday. Wouldn’t you know? It doubles my tips.”
His dimples are in full force now. “I want to make you smile. For real. Always. We’re going to go for dinners, and see movies, and walk on the beach. We’ll go hang-gliding, or bungee jumping, or whatever you want to do. Whatever makes you smile and laugh more.” His fingers toy with my bottom lip. “Let me make you smile.”
***
Trent doesn’t have his way with me that night. In fact, he handles me like I’m a porcelain doll that is two seconds from shattering. Instead, he talks. He talks and talks and talks. I listen, mostly. He talks about the Everglades, and about how a human can hold an alligator’s jaws closed with his bare hands and I ask him if he’s one of those Jeopardy freaks. He talks about how Tanner isn’t such a bad guy and our apartment building kind of has a Melrose Place feel to it, and I chuckle. I don’t remember hibachis and shriveled weeds in Melrose Place. He smiles when he mentions Mia’s name and how cute she is.