by Penny Reid
I’d thought kissing Billy again was impossible, and so it was. But now here I was, the ability to make those dreams and wants something real and true literally staring at me in the face. So I did something completely crazy. I did what I wanted.
I jumped him.
Or, I jumped at him. He was entirely too tall for me to jump.
I wrapped my arms around his neck tightly, pressed my body to his, and took his mouth with mine. I took it like a rookie thief, making all the mistakes, fumbling the goods, and not knowing what the heck I was doing. I could only rely on what I’d been fantasizing about and imagining for the last several days and nights. But I did my utmost to kiss the hell out of him.
Goodness, I felt frenzied. Starved. I couldn’t get enough of his mouth and tongue and lips. The taste of him was amazing, like nothing else, and I was sure I was making a mess of everything. However, I must’ve done something right because he groaned, his hands on me, his touch restless.
Billy’s fingers dug into my lower rib cage as though fastened there. He returned my kiss like he’d been lying in wait, ready to pounce, and everything about it was less gentle this time. The way he licked and stroked the inside of my mouth gave me the sense that he, too, had been starving for me.
The next thing I knew, Billy had us turned, my upper back to the wall. As always, he was careful about my wounds, sliding his hands down my sides to grip my hips and keep the bottom part of my back from connecting with the surface behind me. Or maybe, I registered with delighted alertness, that wasn’t what he was doing at all.
The way he held me as his tongue slid against mine—his mouth sucking and biting and making me wild—kept the front of our bodies pressed together, the hard planes of his stomach and chest and thighs fastened to the softer valleys of mine. His hips shifted, a small, instinctive movement, but also an impatient one. He groaned again, lower and deeper this time; an unsteady rumble paired with a gasp.
Then, just like last time, he was the one to end it, lifting his mouth and breaking the kiss. But unlike last time, he wasn’t looking at me as though he was in shock, nor did he remove himself completely. Instead, he lowered his forehead to the wall behind me, his hands sliding once more to my ribs, his heavy breaths against my ear and neck.
“We gotta—” I heard a pause in his breathing, like he was swallowing “—we gotta stop.”
I nodded even though I didn’t want to stop kissing him, and I didn’t want him to stop kissing me. Yet something told me to trust him in this, and so I trusted him. Completely.
His breathing evened after a time, as did mine. I became slowly aware that what we were doing, what we’d just done, was incredibly foolish and irresponsible. But I didn’t regret it. It was like, I wanted it to be right, so I willed it to be right, and that was that. Maybe this wasn’t how right and wrong worked for most folks, but I’d learned through hard experience a long time ago that sometimes right—especially when the goal was survival—was relative to needs and circumstances rather than an absolute.
“Hey,” he said, yanking me out of my thoughts. He’d leaned a bit away though our bodies still touched, and he was close enough to steal a quick kiss, which he did before asking, “Are you okay?”
I nodded, dazed. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“Oh, I know,” he said, using the same inflection he’d used on Sunday, flashing that same intensely charming smile. This time, I was too astonished by what had just happened between us to feel embarrassment. I could hardly believe where I was and who I was with, let alone comprehend that this was the second time we’d kissed.
Second. Is this real life?
Billy’s fingers at my sides flexed, giving me the sense he was itching to move them. He did not.
“Thank you for meeting me,” he said, his tone more serious, sincere.
“You shouldn’t thank me for that.”
He flashed me a grin, there and gone, and then lifted an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“I didn’t know I was meeting you.”
His lips parted. I could see I’d surprised him.
“Cletus didn’t tell you? Are you serious?”
“As a subpoena,” I said unthinkingly, repeating a response some of the bikers said when asked the same question.
Billy’s mouth fell open a bit more, and then he bent his head to my neck and laughed. Big shoulders shaking, his arms slid around my upper back, and he gave me the most incredible, full body hug.
I melted.
Yes, he’d hugged me before, but that had been for comfort, to console me, like he would’ve done for anyone.
This embrace was different. Familiar. Personal and special and only for us, for the feel of each other. It made me warm and restless and starving all over again, especially since his beard and lips tickled, making me squirm.
And then Billy placed a kiss on the sensitive skin where my neck met my shoulder; his tongue swirling, his teeth giving me a quick bite. I stopped squirming because my entire body shook. It shook and my stomach twisted with both pleasure and pain, the sensation a new and alarming one.
“Gughra,” I said, the nonsensical sound slipping past my lips, the back of my head hitting the wall behind me.
I thought he’d scattered my wits before. Nuh-uh. This. Now. Right here. My wits were so scattered, I doubted I’d ever find them again. And since I had no wits, I didn’t care one hoot about the lack of them. Hoo-ray for no wits! This whole having hopes and dreams and wants thing was the best.
I watched him through half-lidded eyes as he leaned away. His attention trailed over me—my hair, my lips, the spot where he’d kissed my neck—and I took note of the slightly smug glint behind his stare as well as an edge of something else . . .
Oddly, I didn’t mind his smugness, but the something else had me fighting another shiver.
Abruptly, his gaze seemed to cool, turn inward, like he was thinking about or recalling serious and important matters. Heaving a giant sigh, Billy’s attention dropped. He stepped away. Hands shoved in his pockets, he nibbled on his bottom lip again.
“Cletus should’ve told you. I’m sorry about that.”
“Apology accepted.” Again, I spoke without thinking. Words were bypassing the filters in my brain now that my wits had disbanded.
The side of his mouth tugged upward, but he still didn’t give me his eyes. “We have a lot to talk about,” he said. “Will you meet me again?”
“Absolutely,” I automatically agreed.
His gaze lifted, another collision, making my eyelashes—and a few other parts of my body—flutter at the force of it.
“I have practice until five.” His stare softened with what looked like hope. “Will you sing for me again, so I can find you?”
Chapter Eighteen
*Billy*
“It is not true that women cannot keep secrets. Where they love, they can be trusted to death and beyond, against all sense and reason. It is their weakness, and their great strength.”
Mary Stewart, The Hollow Hills
Cletus whistled. In my truck. While I drove.
I didn’t make him stop for two reasons. One, it was his birthday. And two—
“You’ll be seeing Scarlet tonight, I suspect.”
Flicking on my turn signal, I glanced at my brother. He was grinning at me.
“You’re welcome,” he said, clearly enjoying the moment. “And for the record, yes. Yes, Billy. Yes, you do owe me one. A big one.”
There was no point in reminding my younger brother of all the times I’d saved his ass without asking for so much as a thank you. I wouldn’t ever do that, make him feel like a burden or like I kept score. He wasn’t and I didn’t.
Instead, I turned my attention back to the road and played along. “We’re not getting another dog.”
“Oh, that’s fine.” He rubbed his hands together. “I have something else in mind.”
“I’m not buying you a smoking jacket either.”
“Of course not. I didn’t expect you to. A
smoking jacket is a very personal purchase. The velvet must be of a fine quality, but also with fiber length and weight to my particular taste.” Cletus sounded like he’d given this a lot of thought. But then, he always gave everything a lot of thought.
Speaking of which, “I’ve been meaning to ask—” I readjusted my hands on the steering wheel, making sure I sounded casual “—how’d you get those hall passes?”
After Scarlet agreed to meet me later this afternoon, she’d handed over one of the hall passes Cletus had given her. We’d stolen a few more memorable kisses. Then we’d gone to our respective classes.
When Cletus had told me he could get his hands on them, I hadn’t doubted him, and I hadn’t questioned him too much on the subject either. But now, seeing as how Scarlet and I were on extremely friendly speaking terms again, and I didn’t have the pressure of desperation and remorse haunting me constantly, it occurred to me that perhaps I’d put my brother in an awkward situation. I should never have asked him to get those passes.
It had been wrong, irresponsible, selfish. In retrospect, I didn’t know what I’d been thinking.
“How I got those passes is none of your business.” He snorted, like he couldn’t believe my audacity for asking. “I do not reveal my sources.”
I understood the irony of the situation, that I’d been the one to ask him to break the rules. Yet, I still needed to be sure he wasn’t doing anything that might land him in a heap of trouble.
“If you’re stealing hall passes from the—”
“I’m doing no such thing.”
“Then how’d you get your hands on them?”
“Do I pry into your private affairs?”
“All the time.”
He made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I mean, did I ask you why Samantha Cooper—your ex-girlfriend—keeps hounding me about talking to you? Or did I ask what happened between you and Scarlet in the AV closet? No, I have not.”
I made an irritated sound. “You know I have no idea why Sam wants to talk to me. When she tells me what’s up, I’ll be happy to share.” Samantha had been leaving me notes in my locker all week and telling Cletus she needed to talk to me about something important.
However, she hadn’t given either of us any clues about the subject, nor had she been home when I’d stopped by her house on Monday and Tuesday. It was like she wanted to talk to me, but she didn’t want to talk to me. I didn’t understand her.
“And what happened with Scarlet today isn’t the same, Cletus, and you know it. Stealing from Assistant Princi—”
“I already told you, I didn’t steal them. I don’t steal. I’m not a thief. For one thing, I don’t have enough black in my wardrobe for it. And for another thing, there’s plenty of ways to get what you want without stealing.”
“Hmm,” was all I said.
“Hmm,” he mimicked, crossing his arms, giving me his version of a stern look.
We passed a stretch without speaking, leaving each other to our own, private thoughts regarding the day’s outcome. I was glad for the quiet and the time. The last few days, focusing had been near impossible. Not seeing Scarlet, not listening to her laugh or sing or tease me had weighed me down. I’d been tired, distracted, short-tempered.
And then, there was that kiss.
All week—most particularly at night, when all the lights were out but I could still see her empty bed and the pajamas she usually wore—I’d been reliving our kiss in the woods, asking myself what had gotten into me, what had possessed me? Possessed was absolutely the right word. Looking back, it was like I’d been possessed.
Now, I’d kissed girls before. It had always been premeditated, it had always been fun, and I’d always been very much in control of myself. Kissing Scarlet hadn’t been planned. Or, honestly, fun. It hadn’t been fun last weekend and it hadn’t been fun today. Both times, control had been an ingredient in short supply.
That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it. I most certainly did. I more than enjoyed it. I got the sense I needed it, and that made no sense at all.
Kissing Scarlet is like . . .
Leaning my elbow on the windowsill, I pinched my bottom lip lightly between my thumb and forefinger.
It’s like—
“Don’t give yourself an aneurysm.” Cletus’s dry statement interrupted my thoughts.
“Pardon?”
“You look like you’re thinking so hard you might break something over there.”
Shifting in my seat, I flipped on my blinker again, this time for our driveway.
“I thought you’d be happy, Billy.” My brother’s voice held the faintest note of concern, but mostly he just sounded irritated.
“I am happy,” I said flatly.
It was best to hold my thoughts close to the vest with Cletus. Any expression of emotion, whether it be happy or sad or disappointed, he seemed to tuck away for future reference. Our momma prayed daily that he’d grow up to use his powers for good. On Sundays, so did I.
Cletus made a grunting sound. “Don’t ruin my birthday with your mood.”
Since I wasn’t the one with mood problems, I said nothing.
“Maybe you should invite Scarlet to the family party tonight.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Cletus hit his thigh, cutting me off.
“Actually, yes. I demand you invite Scarlet. That’s what I want for my birthday.”
“Okay.” Shrugging, I turned onto our driveway.
“Okay? Okay? That’s all I get? No, ‘Thank you Cletus for inviting my girlfriend to your birthday party’?”
Oh. I see.
He was trying to get me to admit what was going on with Scarlet.
Bringing the truck to a stop in my usual spot, I engaged the emergency brake, cut the engine, and turned to my brother. “Thank you, Cletus, for inviting my girlfriend to your birthday party.”
He flinched, his eyebrows near shot off his forehead, his eyes rounded to the size of quarters, and his mouth dropped clear open.
“Careful, Cletus,” I said, exiting the truck amidst his stunned silence. “With your mouth hanging open like that, you’re liable to eat a fly.”
After making a quick stop by the house to pick up something, I ran to the edge of the field. We’d done sprints during football practice, but I wasn’t tired. A single word chanted between my ears, girlfriend.
I’d meant it, what I said to Cletus in the truck. If I had my way, that’s what Scarlet would be. Friday, after the game, I’d take her out. Saturday, after work, we’d go out again. Sunday, maybe we’d have another picnic at her campsite. She could try to teach me how to navigate the woods while I pretended to listen between me kissing her.
We’d spend my birthday together. And on Christmas I’d give her something special. A guitar of her own. Yes!
Maybe Ash wouldn’t mind sharing a room with Scarlet and she’d stay with us. Maybe she could just stay all the time without me having to sneak her in from the cold. She was so great, I couldn’t wait for everyone to finally see her. To know her. To know about us. My mind raced with plans and as soon as I was fifty feet from the tree line, I slowed, straining my ears, listening.
I couldn’t hear her.
It was very possible I couldn’t hear her sing because my brain was on overdrive and my heart was beating fast and loud. I stopped next to a tree, gripped it. I then closed my eyes and slowed both my thoughts and my breathing and listened harder.
The wind. Crickets. A frog. But no—
“Hey,” she said.
My eyes opened and there she was, standing a short distance in front of me, looking uncertain.
“Hey,” I said, my feet already moving. Something relaxing at the vision of her, something critical, and I realized I’d half-expected her to avoid me again.
“Hey. So, didn’t you—oh!”
Interrupting her with a kiss, I carefully placed one hand between her shoulder blades and pushed the fingers of the other into the hair behind her ear. Her soft lips had t
he flavor of surprise. I took advantage, seeking out her tongue and making a sound of approval when she gave it to me. She had such a sweet taste and she was always so hot—her skin, her mouth, everywhere I touched—except her hands. Her hands were always freezing.
Pulling away, because we needed to breathe, I rested my forehead against hers and lowered my hands to her hips. Upper back, the sides of her torso and hips, neck, hair, arms, fingers, face, shoulders—these were the places I was allowed to touch. I’d made a list after we’d kissed in the AV closet and things within me had escalated unexpectedly. Lack of control was not acceptable. Therefore, boundaries.
“Didn’t you see me?” Lifting her forehead, she leaned away to catch my eyes even as she worked to catch her breath. “I was right here when you walked up.”
I breathed a laugh and gave myself a moment to just look at her beautiful face. “I did not see you.” I’d missed her. A lot. How was that possible?
She laughed too, tilting her head to the side. Light from the late autumn sunset played through the trees and in her eyes. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” I slid my hand from her hips to her hand, lacing our fingers together, touching only the safe places.
Her attention flickered down and then to the side. “Are we always going to greet each other, uh, with a kiss? From now on?”
“Only if you want us to—”
“It’s what I want,” she said on a rush, stole another quick kiss, and then leaned back and grinned with her whole face. “It’s what I want,” Scarlet repeated, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her fingers squeezing mine.
I licked my lips, tasting a trace of her there. “Good. Because it’s what I want too. And it’s good you asked, because I want you . . .”
Her eyebrows pulled together, she stared at me like she was waiting for more. “You want me . . . ?”
Crap. I licked my lips again, realizing I’d messed up what needed saying by making it sound like I’d left the thought unfinished. But that was it. I wanted her.
So I nodded. “Yes.”
