by Jamie Howard
I let out a frustrated sigh. “I just don’t understand, Ian. If you knew—”
“I didn’t know,” he whispered. “I thought I’d given myself enough time.” He dragged his eyes up from the ground, barely managing to meet my gaze. “I just wanted to help you. I thought . . . I thought I’d be strong enough to help.”
My resolve weakened and I scooted closer to him, taking his hand in mine. “You were strong enough.”
“Hardly. If you knew how close I was to losing it up there.” He clamped his lips together and looked away, shaking his head.
“Which brings me to what I wanted to say to you.” I stopped and waited for him to look back at me. I’d had something entirely different that I wanted to say, but suddenly, it didn’t seem all that important. I had been terrified to get up on that stage, but whatever Ian had felt was likely a thousand times worse. And he pushed through it—for me. “Thank you.”
His eyes widened. “That’s not even close to what I was expecting.”
“I know.”
We both knew what he was expecting—that I’d ask him for an explanation, that I’d demand answers. I wanted them, badly, but I was afraid to hear them. I wasn’t even sure he’d tell me if I asked. Being around Ian was like walking on thin ice. I never knew which step would have cracks exploding underneath my feet, which movement would send me plummeting into the icy depths.
His mouth moved like it was trying to form words, but nothing came out. He swallowed, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob down and then back up in his neck. My gaze traveled to his lips. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to get lost in that kiss until it was the only thing I could feel, the only thing I could think about.
I didn’t want to remember that the only reason we were sitting here was because my best friend died. I didn’t want to think about why Ian was damaged, or why I was so insistent about not knowing. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to know. I just wanted.
My fingers clenched against my thighs as I sat perfectly still, waiting. I’d been pushing from the beginning, searching out the weaknesses in Ian’s defenses, the chinks in his armor. Seeing how far he’d let me go. I was tired of worrying about what small thing might push him over the edge. If anything was going to happen tonight, it’d be on his terms.
Our knees bumped against each other as he shifted closer. His head dipped toward mine, but he hesitated, hovering close enough that I could see the almost invisible flecks of blue at the very center of his irises. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.
I nodded, the tip of my nose brushing his in the process.
His lips descended on mine, so gently at first that it was barely there. Just the faintest brush, like the softest sweep of a butterfly’s wing. They were still cold from the ice cream, and a shiver rippled through me. His hand settled on the side of my neck, his thumb putting pressure on the bottom of my jaw so that I had no choice but to tilt my head back.
His tongue searched out against my closed lips, and I let him in, the taste of strawberry ice cream overwhelming my senses. My hands crept across from my thighs to his, resting lightly against his jeans. As much as I wanted to twine my fingers in his hair and drag his mouth down harder on mine, I didn’t. I followed his lead.
He dropped kisses down the length of my neck, his hand gripping the hem of my sweatshirt. I lifted my arms so he could tug it off, over my head. The cold air danced across my exposed skin, causing my nipples to harden and stand out against my black camisole. Running his hands up and down my bare arms, he kissed my shoulder. “Hold on a second.”
Pushing to his feet, he walked over to the sleeping bags, unrolling one and spreading it across the tent floor. I took the hint and shifted onto it. A pillow landed behind me, and then another.
Ian knelt down in front of me, his lips immediately finding mine again. He pushed me back until I was sprawled out on the sleeping bag, his body covering mine. Leaning on one hand, he reached the other behind his neck and pulled his shirt over his head. “Fair’s fair,” he said with a smile.
I propped myself up on one elbow, my other hand reaching for him. My fingertips traced over the outstretched wings of the raven, skating down his ribcage. He squirmed away and pinned my hand over my head. “That tickles.”
As our fingers laced together, his other hand slipped the thin strap of my tank top over the edge of my shoulder. He nudged the fabric down, his tongue following its path around the curve of my breast. His teeth skimmed the sensitive skin of my nipple before he took it into his mouth, the warmth of his tongue startling against my chilled skin.
I groaned when his lips left me, but they were back as soon as he discarded my shirt, working their way over my other breast. Threading my fingers through his hair, I dragged his mouth back up to mine and wrapped my foot around his thigh, pulling him down onto me. The heat of his chest felt amazing, and I arched my back to let myself melt into him.
Through a layer of sweatpants and denim, I felt him straining against his jeans. I wanted to slip my hands underneath the waistband of his boxers and run my fingers down his length, taking him in my hand. But he’d yet to make a move below the belt. I wouldn’t be the first one to go there. Not this time.
Widening my legs, he fit snugly between them and rocked forward, grinding against me. He moaned, the sound of it filling my mouth. I pressed back against him, the friction sending pleasure sizzling through my veins. There was still too much fabric between us.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him how much I wanted him, right then, right there, but I choked it back. I had no way of knowing if that might be the wrong thing to say. If the words I chose would send him spiraling down some deep, fathomless hole. And just like that I fell out of the moment, reality slamming into me like I’d just tripped and face-planted on the sidewalk.
“What’s wrong?” Ian asked, his eyes searching mine.
I squeezed my eyes closed, thumping my head against the ground. I ran my tongue over my lips. “I’m afraid.”
“You’re . . . are you a virgin?” Strong fingers skimmed over my cheek. “Bianca, look at me. We don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.”
I forced my eyes back open. “I’m not a virgin.” A choked laugh slipped out from between my lips. “I want this, Ian. I want you. But I’m afraid that you don’t.”
He pushed his hips against mine, the evidence of how much he did want me pressing into the inside of my thigh. “That isn’t obvious?”
“That’s not what I mean.” I ground my teeth together. “I can’t get a handle on your limits. I never know what thing might be too much for you. I’m lying here with my hands fisted at my sides because I’m afraid to touch you. I’m terrified that I’ll do the wrong thing and you’ll shut me out. Or that you’ll leave.” I turned my head to the side and felt one warm tear cascade from the corner of my eye across my cheek, soaking into the pillow.
Ian rocked back onto his knees so he was kneeling above me and clenched his hands on his thighs. “Fuck.” He tipped his head back so that he was staring straight up. “I’m sorry, Bianca. I’m so sorry.”
I scooted backward so that I could sit up, self-consciously crossing my arms over my chest. Reaching back, I grabbed one of the blankets and wrapped it around me, covering myself. We stayed that way, not speaking, not moving, until the chill in the air seemed to work itself into my bones. Resting my chin on my shoulder, I stared through the tent wall, seeing absolutely nothing.
The solution here was easy, so clear it was practically slapping me in the face. I should just leave—get up, put my clothes on, and go. Never look back. My muscles tensed with their desire to flee, eager to be on their way.
There was only one tiny problem with that answer though—if I left, I’d be leaving my heart behind. Ian owned it, whether he wanted it or not. Whether I even wanted to give it to him. It’d made up its mind without any input from me. The time would come when I had to give him up, but until that moment came, until that very second, I wanted everyt
hing I could get.
When I finally looked back at him, he was watching me, his arms resting against his knees. The expression in his eyes was tortured and so, so sad. He held out his hand. “Come here. Please?”
I went to him, and he pulled me even closer until I was sitting in his lap, my legs on either side of his as I straddled him. His hand found mine, pulling it up until it rested against his chest. The heat of my hand bled into his cold skin, and I shifted the blanket to wrap it around us both.
He pressed the tip of his pointer finger underneath my chin, tilting my gaze up until it locked on his. “I want you to touch me, and God, do I want you. I want you so much that it hurts. It hurts when I’m with you, it hurts when I’m not.” He swallowed, his forehead dropping forward against mine. “I don’t want to hurt anymore. Please just—”
I crushed my lips against his, tasting the remnants of tears. I had no way of knowing whether they were his or mine. His fingers kneaded into my lower back, trailing lower until they slipped beneath my sweatpants. They stilled for a moment, no doubt surprised by my lack of underwear. I smiled against his lips.
Tonight was a two-for-one deal when it came to the list—camping and commando.
I moved against him, my hands touching him everywhere I could reach. They tangled in his hair, dug into his back, skimmed across his jaw. They pressed against his chest, and he leaned back onto his elbows, giving me access to his neck. I nipped down it, stopping to press one gentle kiss right over his heart. My hand rested there a moment, feeling his heart pounding, racing beneath my fingertips.
He trembled when I ran my hands over his stomach, his head dropping back momentarily before pulling back up. He watched me touch him, his eyes clouding over with need.
“Bianca, wait.” He took in a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t have a condom.”
I placed another kiss on his hip, right above his jeans. “You left them downstairs?”
“No.”
“No?” My eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “You don’t have any condoms?”
“I haven’t needed them.”
I don’t know why I was surprised. He didn’t date, but I assumed that one-night stands weren’t out of the question. Guys needed to get laid, right? Apparently it wasn’t just love he’d been avoiding, but everything that went with it too.
“How long?” I asked, placing another soft kiss on his other hip.
I didn’t need to clarify my question for him. “Almost two years,” he said, never breaking eye contact.
Two years?
There it was again, that pesky question that flashed like a warning light in my peripheral vision—why? Why, why, why?
I couldn’t make myself ask it though. So instead I said, “I have one. If you want it.” I threw his own words back at him. “We don’t have to do this tonight if you don’t want to.”
“That again?” His face broke out into a broad grin, and he thrust up against me.
I wanted to point out that this was hardly the first time he’d had a hard-on in the past two years, but didn’t bother. My heart was doing strange things at the thought that he’d gone that long, and now, after all that time, he wanted it to be me. It swelled, filling with things I had no business feeling for Ian.
Rolling off him, I fished the condom out of my purse. I tossed the foil packet down next to him and climbed back on top. I teased the edge of his ear with my tongue, sucking his earlobe into my mouth. “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t done this in a while either.”
A sound murmured through his lips, something like a hum of contentment. “And, uh . . . how long is ‘a while’?”
My mouth rested at the corner of his lips as I worked on the button of his jeans. “A few years.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No, more of a . . . friends-with-benefits type thing.” I sat back on my heels to work on removing his pants. “He’s the only person I’ve been with.”
Ian’s eyes flared. “Just one?”
“Yeah.” Heat flooded my cheeks, but I covered it by discarding the rest of our clothes, letting my eyes study the ground as I dropped my sweatpants to the floor. I ripped open the condom packet and rolled it down him, my fingers skimming over his hard length. Crawling back over him, I went to kiss him, but he pulled back.
“Me too.”
I tilted my head to the side, not quite understanding.
“One person,” he clarified. “I’ve never been with anyone else.”
“Oh.” I breathed the word out on an exhalation. I’d never have guessed that either. He never stopped surprising me. Ian’s hands skimmed down my sides, one hand palming my breast, his thumb rubbing over my nipple and short-circuiting my brain.
“Can we stop talking now?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Another minute and I’m not sure I’d be able to, anyway.”
Our mouths clashed together again, anxious, eager. I hovered above him, inching forward and then back, prolonging the moment we were both waiting for. Pressing back, I felt myself stretch, adjusting as he filled me. I let out a low moan as I sat back, resting my hands against his stomach for balance.
His fingers dug into my hips, almost hard enough to be painful. “Give me a second,” he ground out, eyes dropping shut. His chest rose and fell with an unsteady breath.
I leaned forward, letting him slide out of me in a deliciously slow manner.
“Bianca.” My name was practically a growl. “If you don’t give me a second, this is gonna be over really fast.”
I nipped at his neck and moaned again as I let myself glide back down. I didn’t have much to compare it to, but this was absolutely nothing like the last time. Every inch of my skin hummed with pleasure, sensitive to the gentlest of touches like my nerves were raw and exposed. Ian could’ve begged me to stop, and I wouldn’t have been able to.
We rocked together, me, sinking down and him, thrusting up to meet me. I gasped for air, trying to catch my breath, but I couldn’t get enough. His hands were in my hair, pulling me closer, his mouth devouring mine. Need snaked up my spine, pleasure curling my toes. It built to an unbearable level, and I groaned, dropping my head to his shoulder as I tipped over the edge.
My limbs turned liquid, heavy and warm. Ian rolled us, so that he was on top. He paused just outside me, his teeth nibbling at my bottom lip, his tongue sweeping in my mouth. I cried out when he sank back inside me, arching my hips up so he could go deeper. He increased his speed, so close but still racing toward the finish.
His lips broke apart from mine, his hot breath whispering across my ear as he gasped. He stilled inside me, his muscles going taut as he lost himself in me. For a full minute after, all we did was breathe, both of us trying to catch our breaths. My chest brushed his every time I inhaled, and his forehead rested in the crook of my neck. Finally, my pulse dimmed to a steady flicker.
He moved just enough to pull back and kiss me again.
His mouth opened, but I cut him off. “Don’t you dare thank me.”
His mouth snapped shut, and his laughter vibrated through me everywhere. He shook his head, the long strands of his hair tickling my chin. By the time his eyes met mine again, the humor had drained, and he was looking suddenly serious. “I feel like there’s something I should say, but I don’t know what it is.”
His words struck a chord, and understanding washed over me. I knew what he meant. The only difference is that I knew exactly what it was. If this had been a one-time, casual thing like it was supposed to be, there wouldn’t be this gaping hole just aching to be filled with these three tiny words. Three insignificant syllables. Eight measly letters. Words that neither of us would let pass our lips.
“Then don’t say anything.”
Chapter 28: Ian
2 Years Earlier
I relaxed back into the black leather chair and stretched my legs out in front of me. Shifting my cell out of my hand, I pinched it between my cheek and shoulder. “I know, Mags. It sucks. You think I don’t w
ant to be home for the holidays? For our anniversary?”
“I know that.” She sighed like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Damn it. I never should have signed up for classes over winter break. What if I—”
“Hey, it’s gonna be alright. And we’ve been through this. With my schedule and yours, this is the best we’re gonna be able to do.”
“I hate this,” she whispered. Clearing her throat, she said, “But I get it. This is only one year, right?”
The door swung open next to me and a pair of heels clicked across the black and white checkered floor. “Just this once. Things’ll be different next year.”
Something rustled on her end, like the shifting of pillows. “At least tell me it’s hot and sunny in Miami. The weather here blows. Let me live vicariously through you.”
I glanced out the window at the overcast sky, the clouds heavy with snow. The sidewalks were coated in crystal powder, icicles dripping from the street signs. “It’s gorgeous. Hot. I think I’m getting a tan through this window.”
I’d checked the weather before my call so I knew exactly how to craft my lie.
“I hate you so much right now. I’m wearing two pairs of socks, and I still can’t feel my toes.”
Guilt pricked at me and I swallowed around it. “Day after New Year’s, I’ll be on a plane home, and I’ll keep you nice and toasty.”
“Oh, really? Just how toasty will I be?”
“Very, very toasty.” The woman standing across from me cleared her throat, arching one dark eyebrow in my direction. “Listen, babe. I gotta go. You still going Christmas shopping with Rachel tomorrow?”
“That’s the plan. I’m such a procrastinator.”
“Alright, I’ll call you tomorrow night then. Say eight o’clock your time?”
“Deal.”
Fingers drummed against the counter in impatience as I stood, twisting to the side to crack my back. “Night, Mags. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
A loud snort erupted from the chair next to me. “You’re such a fucking liar,” Felix said, bouncing up to his feet. Wrapping one hand around the other, he crunched his knuckles. “And surprisingly, really good at it.”
