LONG LOST

by Brent, Cora

Caris

  It’s a devil’s oven kind of day.

  That’s my mother’s expression for times when summer is raging and the humidity climbs to a nearly intolerable ratio.

  The thermometer tops out at ninety five degrees in the mid afternoon and the air outside is better suited to a sauna. Shane tells me to take off and go somewhere cool. The bakery is closing in half an hour anyway.

  My jeans and scratchy polo feel positively oppressive. I remember that I’d stuffed a change of clothes in my bag this morning so before leaving I visit the rest room to change to denim cutoffs and a blue tank top.

  “See ya, Caris.” Shane is in the middle of emptying the trash can but he pauses to wave at me.

  “You sure you don’t need me to stay?”

  “Nah, there’s just a few things to do before closing and then I get to go home and get ready to take my lady out.”

  “That’s right, tonight’s a big date for you two.”

  Lana told me Shane got an idea in his head to take her someplace fancy. He made reservations at the priciest steakhouse in town this evening and plans to dress in a suit and tie.

  He grins. “Only the best for my princess.”

  “Have a good time.”

  I hesitate at the exit for a few seconds and glance at the door leading to the kitchen, knowing Jay is back there and probably waiting for me to leave. We’ve hardly said a handful of words to each other in days. He’s impossible. He shoots hungry glances at me every chance he gets and yet can’t bring himself to finish a polite conversation.

  Whatever.

  If he’s determined to remain a brooding, sexy enigma then I have better things to do than waste all my energy reaching out. The guy’s got issues. And he certainly doesn’t want my help sorting them out.

  The air outside is every bit as heinous as I assumed it would be and I’m grateful to be wearing lighter clothing. I crank up my car air conditioning and wait for the blast of coolness to hit.

  While I’m sitting there I decide to make a quick call home. My mother answers and she’s glad to hear my voice. She’s already buying all my favorite foods in preparation for my visit next week. Based on my conversations with my dad I know she’s maintaining these days. She’s begun seeing her therapist three times a week again instead of two. Her medication has been adjusted and the effects have been encouraging so far.

  I’m not prepared when she asks me about the guy I’ve mentioned dating now and again. I have no intention of telling my parents about what happened with Alden. It’s not something they need to hear. I simply tell my mother that we’ve chosen to go our separate ways and she says nothing more about it. She asks for a reminder about what time my plane gets in. I’m leaving from the small municipal airport right outside Hutton that only offers flights to a handful of destinations. The visit will be short. I fly in on Tuesday, my birthday is on Wednesday, and I’ll be flying back to Hutton on Thursday. When the call ends I feel the same way I always feel after a conversation with my mother. Very loved and vaguely worried. She did sound happy. I hope she really is.

  With a sigh I pull the car out of the parking lot and then have to stop and think about where to go next. I lied to myself about having better things to do than stew about a certain unfairly sexy non-friend. Here it is on the brink of Friday evening and I have absolutely no plans. Ever since the Alden debacle I’ve been keeping my social outings to a minimum, partly because I dread running into him. I decide to treat myself to a movie. Movies are air conditioned. Movies are fun. Movies are bound to be Alden free.

  There’s a brand new adaptation of a Jane Austen novel that I’ve been planning to see and I nearly buy a ticket before changing my mind and selecting a blockbuster superhero flick instead. The movie is not really up my alley and frankly I’m at a loss when it comes to characters like Water Man and Snake Woman. I sit there in the half full theater chewing popcorn and watching things explode on the screen while remembering another movie theater in another town a long time ago. That day I sat beside a boy who was my friend and I considered holding his hand but lacked the guts to make the first move.

  The memory makes me smile even as it makes me sad. The movie isn’t over yet but I’ve lost track of who is trying to kill who with their laser beam eyes and so I just take my popcorn and go.

  At home the only other car in sight is Lana’s and the house is quiet. She and Shane must have already left in his truck. Jay is most likely hiding at the gym and admiring his muscles.

  My hair is stuck to the back of my neck and my denim cutoffs have become sweaty and uncomfortable. Once I’m in my bedroom I peel off the damp shirt and spot my bikini top hanging on a knob of the dresser. The bottom half to my bikini is nowhere to be found but my black panties will be good enough. There’s no one around to see me anyway.

  It’s almost five o’clock but the sun still feels strong. Seizing a towel and a bottle of sunscreen that becomes necessary when I spend more than ten minutes outdoors this time of year, I pad outside in my flip flops. I toss everything, including my glasses, on the nearest lounge chair and jump in with the graceless eagerness of a child. The water is perfect. I allow myself to dip completely under the surface, folding my legs and resting my palms on my knees lotus-style as my body sinks to the bottom. The chlorine burns my eyes but I keep them open anyway, gazing up at the bubbles that disappear one by one under the glare of the sun. The roar of quiet filled my ears and my lungs began to complain. This is a game I used to play as a child, pretending I was descended from a long lost line of mermaids. I was waiting for my power to claim me. I imagined it would if I could pass the test and worship the water correctly.

  A tickle teases the back of my throat, emerging in a cough that puts an end to mermaid games. I unfold my legs and shoot to the surface, sputtering and flinging wet hair out of my eyes as I dog paddle to the ladder.

  I’m out of the pool and dripping all over the cement before I realize I’m not home alone after all.

  Jay is here, standing on the far side of the patio. Those powerful arms of his are crossed as he watches me. He might have just arrived or he might have been watching me since I skipped straight to the water. I never looked in that direction before jumping in.

  I slick my hair back with my fingers and discreetly check to make sure nothing important has slipped thanks to my reckless jump. There are few things more disconcerting than thinking you’re alone and then discovering you are not. Thankfully, no nipples are peeking out. My panties are sodden but in place.

  And what if they weren’t? Would Jay Phoenix have just stood there on the patio, mutely observing?

  “Hello!” I shout. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Because he remains cemented in the same position with his arms crossed. I can’t quite make out his expression without my glasses on but I would bet it’s unfriendly.

  Shooting him a defiant look I stalk over to the lounge chair where I’d dumped my belongings. I swipe my wet skin with the towel, weighing whether I feel like escaping Jay’s scrutiny or reveling in it.

  I choose the latter.

  I’ve seen the way he looks at me sometimes. He’s not as impenetrable as he pretends to be.

  I maneuver the lounge chair until it’s flat and I stretch out with a sigh. My body isn’t fantastic but it has breasts and hips and once I have my glasses back on my face I sneak a look at Jay to see if he’s staring. He hasn’t moved. He’s a Jay statue over there on the patio. I could probably lie here fingering myself and he’d just continue his impassive vigil.

  Minutes passed. Or maybe it’s only seconds. My internal clock is off. Everything about me is off and has been since the moment I realized who Jay Phoenix really is. I’m not sure what to expect from him. And he doesn’t know how to behave around me. For weeks we’ve existed at a stalemate and what we need is a showdown.

  I close my eyes and wait for something to happen. When nothing happens I crack my right eye open.

  “You’ll get burned,” Jay warns.

  I might but probably
not. The sun is on its way down.

  But the deep sound of his voice has produced ripples of warmth to places aching to become more familiar with him. I drop my arm and retrieve the sunscreen from the ground beside the lounge chair before squirting a generous ration into my palm. If Jay likes to stand around and watch then he’s free to stand around and watch this.

  My hands begin at my belly and move down slowly, rubbing lotion on every visible inch, covering my thighs, raising one leg at a time and rubbing slowly, so slowly.

  The air hisses out of his mouth. Along with the word “Jesus”.

  He shifts, twisting his body in the opposite direction and shaking his head like he’s having an argument with someone unseen.

  Another squirt of lotion and I begin on my arms before moving to my chest. Jay’s head swivels back in time to notice when I briefly cup my breasts. This is uncharted territory for me. I’m not bold like this unless I’ve been drinking. I’d be too embarrassed. I should be embarrassed now. I like this too much, taunting him, enjoying the loss of his indifferent expression, which is now replaced with something much more primitive.

  A fundamental ache rises within me and ignites when he takes a step. And then another. His arms are no longer tightly crossed but fall to his sides in clenched fists. He lacks the ability to mask the desire in his eyes and there’s madness in the way we look at each other as he closes the distance. My eyes stray to his hands, his big and excessively masculine hands. They do not look like the same hands that touched the stems of wildflowers or tenderly held baby geckos a million years ago in Arcana. There’s nothing gentle about the look of his hands now, and nothing gentle about what I’m thinking they might do to me.

  He freezes when I sit up. I’m not going anywhere. I roll over on my belly and hold out the tube of sunscreen.

  “I can’t reach my back.”

  This is a defining moment. If we can’t have honest conversations then we’ll have something else. And if Jay planned to refuse then he wouldn’t be plucking the sunscreen out of my hand.

  I fold my hands under my chin, willing my body to stop trembling. When he hesitates I wish I could see his face. Seconds pass before he finally drops to his knees and exhales loudly. I hear the top of the sunscreen bottle snap open, feel the cool drops being squeezed onto my back.

  I swallow. I try to speak and need to clear my throat to be heard. “You might have to unhook the top.”

  His next move is unexpected. He brushes aside my wet hair and allows his fingertips to graze the base of my neck before tracing my spine. The shock of his touch yields a deep shiver.

  I’ve figured out what I want from him more than anything else.

  Jay hooks a finger into the strap and tugs, silently explaining that this is my chance to push him away. I rise up on my elbows with impatience. The ache that had originated deep in my belly travels low to throb between my legs as I arch my back and press my hips deeper into the lounge cushion. A low moan escapes my lips when he unhooks the strap. An instant later his hands are on me, flattened across my back and slowly roaming up and down in order to rub the lotion in. His strong fingers surround my ribcage. I am aware that he could crush me if he felt the urge but the thought does not make me afraid. Jonathan Hempstead or Jay Phoenix or whatever he feels like calling himself would never hurt me with his hands. Only with his cold words. His indifferent eyes. His granite heart.

  He keeps massaging in a downward motion until he reaches the waistband of my wet panties.

  Do it. I dare you.

  The pulsing need between my legs makes me behave badly. I roll my hips in a slow rhythm, rubbing myself on the chair, urging him to do more to me, to do everything.

  “You’re fucking playing with fire,” he growls. His fingertip slides a mere inch inside the elastic before stopping.

  My breath hitches and I dig my hips in harder. If he wants to play games then he can play the dirtiest ones ever invented. I will scream if I don’t come soon. And I’m out of patience. I abruptly roll to my back. My unhooked bikini top is discarded.

  “Then play with me,” I demand.

  His jaw is tight, his eyes blazing. His shirt comes off.

  I’m touching myself, teasing lightly between my legs. A second ago I couldn’t wait to come and now I don’t want to come yet. Not until he’s inside of me. This is surreal lunacy and I don’t care. I’m pushing my panties down.

  “This is what I want,” I whisper and reach for him. “It’s what you want too.”

  He does. He’s breathing hard and unsnapping his jeans.

  “You want me to fuck you out here on the goddamn patio furniture, huh? That’s what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  His hands find me again. One holds my right hip and the other covers my belly and moves lower. It’s too much. My eyes roll back in my head and I release the most pornographic of moans as his finger slides inside me, just barely, just enough to make me clench my teeth and shudder with the promise of what’s to come.

  “Caris, look at me,” he demands.

  And I obey because right now he’s in charge and I’ll do anything he says. His red boxers are visible beneath his unzipped jeans and his bare chest is fascinating but there’s a troubled expression lurking in his eyes.

  “This is not how you want your first time to be,” he announces and removes his finger before sliding my panties back into place. “Is it?”

  For a second I don’t understand how he knows that I’ve never had sex before and then I remember the scene with Alden. Of course he knows. He heard the words Alden yelled at me. He heard everything.

  I need him to touch me again. I trace the muscles of his upper arm and feel him shiver. My fingertips reach his jaw where there’s just a hint of rough stubble.

  “I want you,” I say with conviction. “I want it to be with you.”

  His eyes close and I touch his lips.

  “You won’t be hurting me,” I whisper in case that’s what he’s worried about. “I mean, I’ve done…other things before. I know it won’t hurt.”

  When he opens his eyes again he’s looking away from me. He spots my towel on the ground and gently covers me with the terrycloth. My eyes feel the sting of mortified tears because I’m certain he’s about to turn me down and because I remember the last time he covered me with a towel when I was dazed and crying on the kitchen floor.

  What the hell did I think I was doing anyway?

  I’m no irresistible seductress. I’m not even close.

  Jay stands up.

  I expect he’ll just dash inside without saying anything because that’s how he is.

  I’m surprised when he offers his hand. I hold the towel in place as he helps me up.

  And then I’m completely astounded when he draws me close, slides his other hand up my back and brushes his lips across mine. Our tongues touch and my knees weaken and I don’t even realize I’ve dropped the towel until my nipples graze his chest.

  And then I’m lost.

  We both are.

  I hear the whimper in the back of my throat as the kiss becomes almost savage in its intensity. There’s vanished friendship and squandered years and new passion in that kiss and it’s unlike any other in the world.

  His hands get tangled in my wet hair and my palms marvel over the muscles of his back. I wouldn’t mind passing hours this way. Days. Forever. No one else will ever feel this good.

  I love the sensation of being lifted in his arms. I believe he’ll carry me to my bedroom. He doesn’t. He brings me to his room instead and this makes me irrationally happy, like being allowed to cross the threshold of his bedroom is a hundred times more intimate than feeling my naked skin against his.

  His room is so neat it’s almost like no one really lives here. Jay is careful when he sets me on top of the bed and even more careful when he removes my panties for good.

  I’m trying to get rid of his jeans and he lets me. He kicks them off and kneels between my parted legs in his boxers. He smiles at
me and my heart lurches because it’s not the first smile he’s ever given me. It’s just the first one he’s given me in so many years. I want to take my glasses off because I know I look prettier without them but I’m not willing to surrender a clear view of him.

  He kisses the inside of each of my thighs before reaching inside a one drawer nightstand. He shifts objects around in there until he finds what he’s looking for and then he tears the package of the condom off with his teeth.

  I’m already naked but he’s still wearing his boxers. When I make a grab for them he shoves them down with impatience. Now I can see all of him and there’s so much to see that it’s intimidating. I hope I’m right about this not hurting. But I don’t even care if it does hurt. I’ve imagined doing this a thousand times in a thousand different ways and none of those fantasies could hold a candle to this reality.

  He slides the condom on so expertly and it’s obviously something he’s done many times. I push the thought away. I don’t care what he calls himself or who he’s been with before. He’s here now. He’s mine.

  “Jay,” I whisper and pull him closer. I’ve decided that I like this new name of his.

  My legs eagerly spread wide and he settles on top of me with care. I would have expected him to be rough if I didn’t know he’s also the boy who once tore his shirt up so that I could clean my scraped knee. That’s who he was then and that’s who he is now. The harshness of his life hasn’t robbed him of his soul and I groan with bliss when I feel him enter me.

  The way he moves is slow and tender at first. With his thumb he brushes a strand of wet hair from my forehead and trails his knuckle down my cheek. I tease his lower lip with my teeth and rake my fingers across his back to let him know I’m not breakable. He can use me harder. I want him to.

  Jay knows how to take a hint. He quits holding back and thrusts deeply again and again. I give in and allow the frenzy of pleasure to climb to impossible heights before cresting with a consuming fury that rocks me to the core. I’m gasping. I’m shaking.

  And he’s not finished. He raises himself up on his forearms, driving his way in so deep and so relentlessly that another wave of tortured pleasure overtakes me and I’m glad the house is otherwise empty because I’m aware that I’m being pretty damn loud.