Burn With Me: New Adult Romance (Take Me Home Book 1) (Take Me Home Series)

by SJ Cavaletti

  “Yeah. Just taking a moment under the desert stars.”

  “Cool. See you inside.” El walked back to the hive club.

  I put Maeve back on the ground; she was so light she floated there practically on her own. She circled toward the hive, but I turned her toward me one last time. I lifted her chin and kissed her nose.

  “We don’t have to hide from my friends. If we want to touch each other tonight, I promise they won’t mind.”

  “I just don’t want any of them to feel awkward.”

  “Awkward because their friend found a girl he likes?”

  She pushed hair behind her ear. “You know what I mean.”

  “Maeve. I think you’ve put a spell on us all. They want to be around you as much as I do.”

  19

  Who wouldn’t fall head over heels for a guy like Drake? Especially at this moment? This honest, true we’re-not-hiding-our-feelings moment. He ripped his heart out of his chest, put it center stage under a spotlight and didn’t even flinch.

  Was he just drunk? I was. But even though I was, and my drunkenness consented to us “being together like there was no tomorrow” he was so much better at it than I was.

  But for me, his words and suggestion had been counterproductive. Moments ago I was letting myself be a drunk girl at Uyu, with no inhibitions. But him telling us not to think about it made me do just that.

  That self-sabotaging, evil little voice in my head shouted at the top of its lungs and told me not to get hurt. It was the convincing little devil that had persuaded me over the years that pain was preventable. Drake knew it wasn’t. And his proposition, to enjoy this pure moment, where the puzzle came together beautifully, before we knew that the final piece was missing… just enjoy it?

  I let Drake lead me into the night. And through the entrance of the beehive. Upon entering this golden palace, I gasped. It was beautiful, whimsical, and transported me instantly into some fairytale. An unimaginably gigantic dome of interlocking, golden hexagons towered around us, the acoustics allowing the music to tap into every pore of our skin. My heart instantly vibrated with a bass beat from the dance music playing loudly. It’s power deprived my sense, sweeping through and clearing my apprehension back out on to the Plain with the rest of the dirt.

  We saw the gang on the other side of the hive, though there really were no sides, just that they were across the center area, which served as a dance floor.

  Drake’s head bobbled from side to side, his lips pursed. His body finding the soul in the music. He found the soul in everything. Turning to me, he grabbed my hand, pulled me in and using his hand on my lower back, pressed me in to his body.

  And he danced. He moved his hips and his abs like some samba stripper, rubbing up on me. So much taller than I, his man lump rubbed just under my breast and I wanted to dip down and rub my nipple up on it. Lust was the only thing between us now.

  I threw my arms in the air, and with them, imagined all my sorrow, all my pain, all my worries launched up with them, getting stuck in the honey coated roof. Drake’s hand let go of my back and he drew his hands from my wrists, down my forearms, down my biceps, brushing his thumbs across my nipples discreetly, quickly. No one was watching anyway. His firm grip landed on my waist and he forced my hips to gyrated in a circle, like he was teaching me to dance, and finally picked me up.

  His lips forced into mine with a kiss so desperate it could have left a bruise. My arms around his neck, I held on to him, to this moment and to this delicious kiss, licking, sucking and kneading each other like a piece of toffee.

  His dick twitched somewhere near my lower thigh. I loved how tall he was. His imposing height and strength. One hand could practically wrap around my thigh. He made me feel small and taken care of.

  He put me down and a wide smile of masculine, square white teeth glowed over me, his dimple so deep I wanted to crawl inside of it.

  “You…” he bobbed his finger up and down at me, “How am I supposed to stop touching you and do anything else tonight? The dark fairy bewitched me.”

  I waved my finger around the air in circles, as if it were a wand, “You will dance for me.”

  He complied with my enchantment, put his arms behind his head as if bound and gyrated his torso and hips in a figure eight motion like a belly dancer. I laughed.

  “Good,” I said, “Now no thinking you can escape my power,” I waved my finger wand again, “You’re released.”

  He laughed, put his arm around me and we went to join the gang at last.

  Even though I wanted Drake, and to be alone with him and his naked body, I was in no rush to wish the night away with the others. Inspecting each of them, I saw what value they brought to Drake. What value they tried to offer me.

  El. Sensible, sexy doctor who understood everyone has a secret.

  Jasmine. Sister. Fun loving straight talking bad ass bitch.

  Flick and Helena. Hot ass chicks that made me know I did not have to stop having fun, ever. Period.

  Koa. Quiet and wise in an almost mythical way.

  Pika and Joey. There to get us all in just enough trouble to have fun.

  I wished for a moment that I could run off to some isolated community in the jungle with this crew, never have to face the real world again. I’d fly in Peaches and Dana and they would love them, too. We could never go back to L.A. and I could have a text relationship with my Mom for the rest of my life, or at least until she calmed down.

  The group all moved to the music, up and down, side to side. Jasmine’s hips impossible to ignore because no matter the genre of music, the hula was always evident. They all had their signature moves and style, but it was obvious they all loved to dance.

  And dance we did. We stayed at the beehive for an hour when the DJ changed and in that tiny lull; we moved on again, into the night, into the abyss of darkness.

  Somehow later that night we all ended up on the pirate ship again. Drake and I on the bow, like Jack and Rose on the Titanic. And just like them, we had fallen head over heels for each other in the space of a few days. I remember watching that movie, wondering if it was really possible for two people to have a connection like that within such a short space of time.

  My armored self could have never believed it possible. Because the men I had been with needed a concrete crusher to get through to me. Some got tired and gave up. One or two settled for the softened dents.

  But Drake. I wanted to rip off my metal suit chain mail and let him ravage me if that’s what he wanted to do. This must be what chemistry is.

  Drake sat on the bench in the bow, his back against the side of the ship. I sat on his lap, my back against his warm chest, his arms wrapped around me, protecting my ill prepared skin against the chilly night breeze.

  He spoke behind me, and when he did, his breath, humid and summery, fell on my neck. “It’s hard to believe that only a few days ago, this is kind of where we had our first official conversation.”

  “What about Magpie?”

  “Would you call that a conversation?”

  A dismissive chuckle. “Guess not. I wasn’t in the mood for a chat. Even with a hot motherfucker like you.”

  “You swear a lot when you’re drunk.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yeah,” he cuddled me hard, “I like it. Feels unconsidered and genuine.”

  By now, I was sobering up. And his words about sincerity only aided that process. I swiveled on his lap so we now faced each other.

  No hiding.

  “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I don’t have the easiest time talking about my feelings,” I said.

  Sympathetic, he shrugged. “Who does when they’re grieving?”

  “True. But I almost never talk about mine. As in, I never have done. I really just… I don’t know. I’m really protective. Of myself. And of my friends and family.”

  “Lucky them, unlucky you. Why do you think you’re like that?”

  I looked down at my hands. Flipped my bangs to the side. Lo
oked out at the glowing horizon. None of them answered the question for me.

  “I’ve just always been like this. I’ve always wanted to be like my Dad but maybe I get this from my Mom? She’s so strong. In their marriage, it might have looked like she was support staff. My Dad brought home the bacon and all that. But she was the driving force in so many ways. She was the foundation for it all, I think. She gave him the balls, and money, to start his business. She helped pick him up when he lost clients or gained ones that gave the company grief. And through it all, she didn’t flinch. I saw a woman with composure and class on every occasion. Even in the middle of a hurricane, not a hair on her head would move.”

  “Tough cookie.”

  “Yeah, she is. But she wasn’t with my Dad. She wore the pants for sure, but she was also soft and gooey with him. Showed him a soft side no one else ever saw. From a relationship point of view, and this is going to sound weird and incestual, but I thought I’d never find someone as good as my Dad, who deserved to see that vulnerable side of me, the way my Mom showed my Dad hers. Does that make sense?”

  “Of course it does. I’m a bit like that. Nobody has ever made me feel safe before.”

  My chest suddenly heaved up and down, drawing in air faster than seemed necessary. Like my body prepared itself for heavy lifting. Or tried to rid itself of toxins. I didn’t know what was happening. I hoped I didn’t cry again.

  Especially when I asked a question. A question that wanted a specific answer. This was a dangerous thing. Expectation.

  “Do you feel safe with me?” I asked, “Because you suggesting you’re protective? I don’t see that at all. But maybe it’s just by comparison to me, the Iron Lady,” I laughed lightly, trying to make light.

  Drake sat up. He brought his body closer to mine. Our shoulders square, he brought his face so close our eyelashes might have touched. He closed his eyes, but I kept mine on his face. His smooth, velvety skin. Statuesque cheekbones. The masculinity all softened for a moment.

  To me.

  To his truth.

  “I do,” then he opened his eyes, “I do feel safe, for no reason in particular, certainly not because you were welcoming back at Magpie. I feel like I can tell you things.”

  His nose brushed mine and a gentle, reassuring kiss stamped onto my lips, like a sealed wax love letter. It scared me. I knew I needed to take it. Take his gesture, his trust, his reassurance. It was a gift.

  But my heart jarred open and closed like a broken elevator door.

  “Do you think you feel this way just because… because we’re strangers? And we’ll never see each other again? So it’s like a free pass?”

  Drake pulled in his lips, then licked them. His brow furrowed in something I could only describe as discontent. His forehead crinkled; he lifted a brow, “I didn’t realize we’d never see each other again. So, no, for me anyway, that’s not it.”

  He took a deep breath and threw away the wedge of anger that momentarily pushed us apart, “Is that what it is for you?”

  No. The answer was no.

  “I don’t think so.”

  His eyes narrowed, and his dimple peeked out. Through the slits of his eyes, I could see he called my bluff. I looked to the sky for a better cover but it didn’t give it to me so I bit my lip instead and smiled at him. “We’ll see.”

  He cupped the back of my head in his hand and just before his suede lips landed on mine, he said, “We will see.”

  And we kissed. I kissed him like I didn’t want to let go. Like the ship was still afloat. But if it sank, I wanted him to know I’d go down with him. Because even though it had only been a few days, he raided my defenses and now that he was on the inside, my instinct wanted to keep him there.

  With both his hands on either side of my face, he pulled my face away from his. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

  And the next thing I knew, I woke up in full costume, next to a sleeping Drake in his motorhome bed.

  20

  “Drake? Drake?”

  Her hand rubbed gently and but furiously, wrestling me from my slumber.

  I took a deep inhale, hoping the oxygen would cleanse the haze of the past two hours. I had only just fallen asleep. Opening my eyes, there were hers, wide open like a confused fawn, entering the world for the first time.

  “Drake, what happened?”

  “Well, Clyde invited us downstairs on the ship. There were a bunch of people smokin’ dope, drinking more. If I was your keeper, I would have told you not to have another drink.”

  “But I did? And passed out?”

  “Well, not right away. El and I got you back here. You were talking most of the way home. You don’t remember?”

  She searched an empty memory cell within and shook her head no.

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t let anything bad happen to you. I wasn’t sure if it was the last shot you did or the contact high. The place was so thick with smoke… I had to get out of there, too. I’m not a weed kinda guy. Makes me sick.”

  I put my arm around her waist.

  “I hope I didn’t ruin your and El’s night,” she said, cocking her lips to the side.

  “God, no. You made it. Nothing like feeling like a hero.”

  She playfully pushed my shoulder. “Hey, I’m no damsel in distress.”

  “Coulda fooled me…” I winked, “I know you’re not.”

  She put her arm around me. We embraced, horizontally aligned.

  “What I mean to say is,” she planted a sweet, innocent kiss on my lips, “Thank you.”

  What she didn’t know was that I had wanted to help her before she had gotten that far. But after our conversation above deck, she seemed hell bent on having another shot. I had wanted to tell her to wait a while longer. She didn’t have to keep up with a bunch of big burly guy and girls twice her height. But she was a free woman. So, I didn’t take one myself, in case, well, in case this happened.

  “I’ve never passed out. This is kinda embarrassing.”

  “Ah, your secret is safe with me. And El. And about fifteen other people.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better.”

  “I’m not trying to.”

  Because I enjoyed seeing her body shiver when it stepped outside her comfort zone.

  I had no bad intentions, I just loved seeing her whole. The warrior dark fairy who could perfectly defend her kingdom but at the same time, had been endowed with a heart of gold and a human-like vulnerability that made me feel I could touch her.

  I reached over onto my nightstand and grabbed a bottle of water. “Here. Have some.”

  She sat up, took a slug, a glug, and downed nearly the whole bottle. She looked at it, now just an inch at the bottom. “Sorry.”

  “Have the rest.”

  But she didn’t. She placed the bottle on her lap and looked at the white duvet draped over her thighs. She rubbed her thumb along the side of the bottle, thinking. Trying to remember the night? She wouldn’t. El explained to me once you actually don’t even form memories during a blackout.

  She stopped searching. Fidgeted. She wagged her head from side to side. Then she straightened her bangs. Pinched the skin on her forearm.

  “How do you do it?” She asked.

  “Do what?”

  “How do you not care about getting hurt? I mean, love hurts, right? Every rock star knows it.”

  I pushed myself up to sit next to her. “Nazareth. Great tune. But love hurts? Not true.”

  Her eyebrows raised, attentive and questioning.

  “You know what I love most about song writing?”

  “What?”

  “The lyrics. Because in writing lyrics, us songwriters are trying so damned hard to mine words that will move people. It’s like digging a hole toward the center of the earth, cracking open walls, scraping through layers and layers, hoping to hit the lava. Or better, the mystery core. You get dirty. Some people have only a few epiphanies in a lifetime. I have one every time a song comes together. ”<
br />
  I slid back down to lie in the bed, put my hands around her hips and tugged her down in one swift movement to join me. The ride made her smile.

  “Why do I feel you’re going to share one of those epiphanies now?”

  I smoothed her hair. I loved her hair. It was like sneakers with a sexy dress. It said I don’t give a fuck, but you do.

  “You said that love hurts. Implying I’m not scared of being hurt because love is painful,” I kissed her forehead, “But love? Love doesn’t hurt.”

  I looped my leg around her middle and scooped her into me.

  “Being rejected hurts.”

  My dick twitched and pressed into her hipbone.

  “Feeling jealous hurts.”

  My stomach felt the breath hitch inside her.

  “Not getting what you want hurts.”

  She pushed her chest onto mine, her firm breasts pressing hard onto my pecs and even with a layer of fabric between us, her nipples poked me.

  “Love doesn’t hurt. It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt.”

  I kissed her like I wanted to so badly before she had fallen asleep. I waited and waited and waited until I fell asleep myself, but waking up took me right to that desperate moment where I wanted to touch her.

  Every part of me wanted this woman. I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth and licked it with my tongue. She closed her eyes and rolled her hips around, connecting her lace covered pussy with my leather bound cock.

  In just a few hours, it would be tomorrow. And all this would be different. Our minds knew it. Our bodies knew it. We kissed harder, faster, moaning into each other’s mouths like we were eating Godiva chocolate.

  Reaching around the back of her sexy bralet, I smoothed my fingers around trying to find something to unclasp. Even though my fingers had done this many times before in the past, I didn’t know where to begin with the criss-crossed bondage top she wore that looked like a million elastic straps holding together a set of wings.

  For an instant I lost my cool, fiddling around the back of the textile concoction, feeling for any sign of entrance. All the while she groaned kisses into my mouth, quick and sharp. I tried to keep up with her while concentrating on this bra thing that someone from Mensa couldn’t open.