What Comes Next

by Desni Dantone

  My admiration of his perfect form was interrupted by the movement of his hands. My eyes squeezed shut as he trailed a caress up each of my thighs. My dress bunched around my waist in the process, but it felt so good I didn’t care. His fingers skimmed over the fabric of my panties before sliding up my sides. Normally I would have squirmed away from the ticklish sensation, but not now.

  Now, I melted into his touch with a sigh.

  One of his hands slipped away, and I nearly protested until I felt his fingers in my hair as he brushed the unruly waves off my shoulders. My eyes darted to his when I felt a tug at the clasp that held my dress up.

  “It’s alright, Ana,” he whispered as cool air danced across the burning skin of my exposed back. “I’m not going to do anything more than this.”

  He slid the straps off my shoulders, and the top of my dress pooled at my waist. Then his mouth was on me. He tasted and teased his way across my collarbone, and my head tipped back to give him what he sought. His warm breath danced across my skin as he dipped lower, skimming the soft border of my bra.

  Despite the barrier, I felt him . . . everywhere. Every dormant nerve ending sparked to life under his delicate touch. Even those significantly lower—somewhere he had yet to touch, but I desperately wanted him to now. I instinctively shifted my hips forward, searching for the sensation I craved.

  Ben’s hands tightened around my waist before flying to my back with a strangled groan. With a deftness I would worry about another time, he unclasped my bra, slid the silky material off my shoulders, and tossed it to the side where it was quickly forgotten. His mouth closed around me, and bright lights of pleasure exploded behind my eyelids.

  I arched into him, bringing the softest parts of me flush with the hardest parts of him. My fingers itched to touch him . . . possibly more than I wanted him to touch me. My hands moved down from his shoulders, trailing across his chest and abdomen before coming to a stop at the waistband of his jeans. As I fumbled to undo the button, Ben stilled.

  “Ana.” His voice was low and rough, with clear warning.

  “I want this, Ben. I want us . . .”

  He pulled back far enough to pin me with a gaze that screamed, me too. I watched his face, saw the thought cross his mind. I knew he wanted me. I felt the evidence of his want sandwiched between us. His eyes flicked to the fogged up window in deliberation.

  “I don’t . . .” He grunted. “Not here. Not in the truck. Not like this.”

  I didn’t attempt to conceal my disappointment. Not that I didn’t appreciate the sentiment behind what he was saying, but I didn’t know what other options we had. Wasn’t like Ma would ever let him into my room . . . even with a chaperone. His mama had strict rules about us being alone at his house when she wasn’t there. Not that I thought Mitch would ever snitch on us . . .

  But he was there most of the time, sleeping off a hangover, and . . . ew, no.

  “We’re going to find a way, Ana,” Ben vowed.

  “Soon?”

  “Very, very soon.” His grin promised that finding a way for us to be together was a top priority to him. “And until then . . .”

  His eyes smoldered as he lowered his gaze to my half naked body. My arms twitched with the sudden urge to cover myself, but his hands clasped my wrists, preventing me from doing so.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” he ordered gruffly.

  His eyes flicked to mine, and we both remembered, at the same time, where we had left off before I’d tried to speed things up. We collided with renewed urgency, both of us equally desperate to make up for the time we’d just lost. The feel of my flesh pressed against his was the most intense feeling I’d ever experienced. His tongue slipped between my lips to tease and coax me into opening for him. I didn’t think it possible for us to get any closer, but with a sudden jerk on my hips, he pulled me flush against him. The sudden unexpected contact forced my mouth to open with a gasp.

  “Can I show you something?” Ben whispered against my parted lips.

  “Like . . .” I couldn’t help it. My eyes dropped to his lap.

  “Not . . . no,” he chuckled. “I’m barely holding on as it is, so my pants are staying on. But I can show you how good it will feel . . . for you.”

  I’d already started to get an idea of what he could make me feel. His suggestion had me intrigued . . . and a little confused. He watched the combination of emotions merge together on my face with a hint of amusement.

  “You trust me?” he finally asked.

  “Of course,” I answered automatically.

  With a sudden twist, Ben launched me off his lap and onto the seat of the truck. I squealed when my exposed back hit the cool leather. Then he was crawling on top of me, his mouth covering mine to silence my complaints until I simply no longer cared about anything but what he was doing, and what he would do next.

  I never wanted to leave that truck. After the past hour spent inside of it with Ben, I wanted to live the rest of my life in that truck. I wanted to see the world from the seat of that truck.

  As far as I was concerned, he’d shown me the world tonight. He had done things to me with his hands, and his mouth, I’d never dreamed possible. While that helped to extinguish some of the fire raging inside of me, it only engulfed the overall need I had for more. There was more that remained to be done with him, and I couldn’t wait to experience all of it.

  It was a miracle I made it home by curfew, and with five minutes to spare, according to Ben’s watch. Those minutes passed quickly against the passenger side door of my favorite truck. The porch lights flicked off and on at regular intervals as Ma subtly beckoned me inside, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop kissing him. Not after all that we’d experienced.

  When I didn’t heed her call, Ma flung the door open and stomped outside. “I think it’s about time to head on home now, Ben,” she demanded. I had to admit, her commanding tone was difficult to ignore.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ben released me with a sheepish grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow,” I confirmed before scampering into the house under Ma’s watchful stare—as if she knew with one look that things had changed between Ben and me tonight.

  She didn’t say anything before I ran up to my room for bed, but with the next day’s rising sun, I learned that my grandmother wasn’t blind, or clueless. She didn’t lecture me. She didn’t flat out ask me what I knew she wanted to ask me. Instead, she took me to the doctor’s appointment she had scheduled the day Ben returned from basic training.

  Maybe Ms. Sawyer had told Ma about our middle-of-the-night bed-swapping? Or maybe Ma was really just that perceptive?

  Either way, I came home that afternoon with birth control pills, and a sternly worded reminder that just because I had them didn’t mean I had to use them. It was a “just in case” kind of thing, something to give Ma some peace of mind.

  I assured her that we were waiting. I just didn’t know for how much longer.

  At least another eight weeks was for certain once Ben left for Advanced Infantry Training two days later. This time, he was even farther away—in Louisiana—and this time, there was nothing between him and an overseas deployment once he graduated.

  My senior year of high school kicked off a few days after he left. Much of my spare time was spent with Jen, often positioned in front of her parent’s television, watching the news for any information on the war I could gather. None of it made sense to me. Or anyone, for that matter. But I was reassured every day when nothing big had happened over there. Some even suggested that the war could be over soon.

  A week after Ben left, Ma and Pop kept Jeffrey and me at the kitchen table after dinner. The air around us grew heavy, and I fell headlong into a sensation of déjà vu. Jeffery’s eyes warily met mine, and I knew he felt it too.

  “There’s no easy way to tell you this,” Ma started shakily, and my gaze swung back and forth between her and Pop as I tried to determine which one of them was dying, as if guessing ahead of time wo
uld make it easier to digest. “When Pop went to the doctor last week, he had some tests done . . .” I settled my gaze on my grandfather, who met my wide-eyed stare with a slight nod. “We got the results back today. Unfortunately, it was not what we wanted to hear.”

  Without taking my eyes off of Pop, I asked, “What is it?”

  “Lung cancer,” he answered simply.

  “He’s been having trouble for a while now, but we never thought it could have been . . .” Ma cleared her throat, and continued, “It’s advanced at this point. There’s nothing they can do.”

  So Pop was going to die—like my mama. I stared at the table with blurry eyes. “How long?”

  “A month,” Pop answered.

  “Maybe two,” Ma added, and I squeezed my eyes shut at the unmistakable sound of hope in her voice.

  Hope that we all needed to get through this—but none of us were permitted to have for long. Over the following weeks, Pop’s health steadily declined. Seven weeks after his diagnosis, Pop went to lie down . . . and never got up. He almost made it two months, but died a week short of that goal with Jeffrey, Ma, and me at his side.

  His service was arranged for the day before Ben’s graduation from AIT. Though Ma said I could miss a few more days of school to make the drive to Louisiana with Ms. Sawyer and Mitch, I chose to stay here on the farm with Ma and Jeffrey. Ma needed all the help she could get. The fields were ready to be harvested, and we were without our leader.

  A few days after Pop’s funeral, I was in the barn, finishing up my morning chores before school, when the main door flew open with a bang. Ben waltzed inside, and the bucket of feed fell out of my hands as I raced into his open arms.

  Our lips met and, even if only for a moment, everything was right in the world again. My hands slid from his shoulders as he set me on my toes.

  “Wow,” I marveled. “Maybe it’s just because I haven’t seen you in two months, but I swear you’re bigger than I remember.”

  “That’s funny, because I swear you’re even prettier than I remember.”

  I smiled sweetly, and my mouth dropped open to murmur some grateful response, when the sound of gagging interrupted me.

  “My God,” Mitch groaned as he sauntered inside. “I know you didn’t learn that shit from me.” He paused to rake a critical eye over Ben. “You constantly make me question that we’re really brothers.”

  Other than the annoyed frown on his face, Ben gave no indication that he’d heard his brother. “I heard the tractor was causing you guys some trouble,” Ben told me, which explained why Mitch was now tinkering with the engine of the rusty old machine. “I’m sorry about Pop. We’re going to help out. We’ll help you get the harvest in.”

  “But you have your own harvest to—”

  “And we’ll get it in, too,” Ben cut me off. “It’s still early. We have plenty of time.”

  “But what about . . .” I trailed off, afraid to ask if Ben knew how long it would be before he was deployed. Did he have a week? Two? If it was anything less than that, he wouldn’t have time to help his family with their own harvest. Not to mention, we sure wouldn’t have much free time to spend together.

  Predicting the questions I had, Ben explained, “I’ve been placed on inactive leave. They’re going to start withdrawing troops in the next few weeks, so as long as nothing major happens over there . . .”

  “You might not have to go,” I finished breathlessly.

  He shrugged. “My unit will be one of the first called up if a replacement is needed, but it’s possible the war will be over before then.”

  That was the best news I’d heard in a long time. After the past few months, good news was a welcome change.

  “I’ll have to go back to the base a few times for some training exercises,” Ben continued warily, “and there’s still a chance they’ll activate me.”

  “I’ll take it,” I mumbled into his shirt as I rested my head on his chest.

  Inactive duty. The only thing better was the signing of a peace treaty. He wasn’t leaving right away, and I had no plans to let go of him as I celebrated that news.

  Over the following weeks, the harvest was taken care of as a group endeavor. Ben, Mitch, and Ms. Sawyer helped us to collect ours, then we assisted them with theirs. Our days started with sunrise, and dragged on well past sundown. We stacked bales of hay with the aid of the moon and the headlights of Ben’s truck.

  Free time was nonexistent. Exhaustion was all I knew. My bed and pillow were all that I craved every night as I eagerly waited for it to be over.

  In the end, both families ended up with good harvests. With the money Ma would make off of it, and the cows she planned to sell in the coming weeks, she could pay the bills for another year.

  Ben was set to start working with B&R Construction, alongside his brother, but first we wanted to take a day for ourselves. When I stepped out of the house in a cute dress and he ordered me back inside to change into jeans and boots, I should have questioned him more on what his plans for the day were. But then I might have been too hesitant to join him on the adventure he had planned, and I would have hated to miss out on this.

  Ben let out a whoop, and my head grazed the roof of the truck, as we bounced over a particularly steep bump in the road. Seeing another drop coming, my fingers curled around the door handle to hold on. I was still tossed halfway across the seat when he flew over it.

  “You’re going to break your truck,” I giggled as I pushed myself back into my seat.

  “Nah. Old Red can handle it.” Ben’s eyes lit up at the sight of a small lake in the middle of the road, and he hit the gas.

  “Uh . . . Ben . . .” My hand reached for the door handle in anticipation.

  “Hold on!”

  A wave of icky brown water splashed over the hood of the truck as we dropped into the pool. Old Red’s loyal engine revved as it bounced out, catching solid ground and jerking us forward. Despite the dull ache behind my eyes at being tossed around like a ragdoll, I had to admit it was fun.

  “Where exactly are we going anyway?” I asked.

  Ben shot a lopsided smile across the seat, and winked. “You’ll see.”

  Five minutes later, all I saw was mud. The smelly brown stuff coated the truck and us, and currently held the two rear tires captive. Ahead of us loomed a seemingly endless road of nothing but more mud. Suddenly, I understood why Ben had insisted that I wear boots.

  “So you were planning on getting stuck,” I teased as he led me onto the grass-covered ground off the side of the road.

  “I considered the possibility.” One of his shoulders lifted in a carefree shrug. Considering he would need a tow truck to get out of here, he was in surprisingly good spirits as we continued along the side of the road hand in hand.

  Though it was surprisingly close to the farm, this was unexplored territory for me. I’d never known this road existed, perhaps because no one could get down it without getting stuck. I was curious to find out what was ahead, and especially what had Ben so obviously excited.

  Another five minutes of walking got us out of the worst of the mud, and to our destination. Or so I assumed, since the road dead-ended at the river. One side of the road was covered in trees, so Ben steered me to the other side, into the wide open and freshly cut field.

  “Whose field is this?” I asked.

  Ben’s fingers entwined with mine while we walked across the uneven ground. “Old Mr. Pebbles’. Well . . . it was his. He’s selling it.” I nodded my understanding when Ben’s fingers squeezed mine. He pulled me to a stop beside him. “I put a deposit down on it yesterday with the advance I got from the military. I can’t swing a payment on all of his land, but he’s giving me a decent chunk of it.”

  I turned to survey the rolling, never-ending field around us. “How much of it did you buy?”

  Ben pressed against my back, and his mouth dropped to my ear as he used his finger to point out the borders of the property. “See those trees along the river there?�
� I nodded, and his arm swung to the right. “It goes from there all the way up to the top of that hill, and back down here to the road. It’s about ten acres.”

  “Wow,” I breathed.

  His arm dropped to curl around my waist. His breath was warm on my neck as he whispered, “You like it?”

  “It’s beautiful . . .” I wondered what exactly he planned to do with it.

  “I was thinking that hill would be a great spot for a house,” he murmured. “I can use the rest of the money I get when I’m discharged, and build something nice.”

  My heart was in danger of exploding from anticipation. I didn’t try to speak, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to. He was saying so much, yet not saying enough. I knew he planned to say more, and I stood rooted to the ground, wrapped in his embrace, as I waited.

  After several excruciating seconds, Ben spun me around to face him. My nervous smile wavered under the intense look he gave me. His words took me completely by surprise.

  “I want your input,” he said. “I want the house to be worthy enough for you to call home.”

  I blinked away the surprise, and rephrased what I thought he was telling me, if only to help me understand better. “You’re asking me to move in with you?”

  “No.” His head shook once. “I’m asking you to marry me, Ana.”

  Before I could process his declaration, he was on one knee in front of me. He produced a ring from his pocket and held it between his fingers. Before I could begin to wonder where he’d gotten it from, he explained.

  “You never met my grandmother, but she was a feisty old lady,” he began. “The result of raising three girls, she always said. My mama was the oldest. Before my grandmother died, she gave this ring to Mama with the hope of passing it on to either Mitch or me, when one of us found the girl we wanted to marry. Mama gave it to me a few weeks ago. She knows, just as well as I know, that there will never be another girl more perfect to wear this ring than you.”