“Maddie.”
The sound of my name on his lips lights me on fire. His hands find their way under my shirt. He’s stroking my stomach, my back, and over the top of my bra. I can’t help but whimper in pleasure. It comes from a place inside I didn’t know existed. I clutch him tighter to me with my legs.
His lips finally claim mine, and his tongue explores my mouth. There’s a tension building between my legs every time his tongue delves deeper into my mouth. The feeling is electricity and pain, a delicious pain I don’t quite understand. It takes my breath away.
He presses me down so my back is against the bench and my head is half on half off. My hair hanging over the edge. I watch him touch me, the way his hands move across my body. Fight for breath. Every cell, every vein, every minute piece of skin is blooming. Kyle pushes up my shirt, and the tips of his fingers brush along my stomach. I realize he’s tracing my tattoos with his fingers. Taking his time. I let out another whimper. He leans down, and kisses my stomach, his lips and teeth explore down to the button on my jeans.
My body is tuned in. Awake. Alive.
A big smile cuts into my face. I sit up. Desperate to have his mouth on mine again. It’s new. Kissing. Touching. I don’t know if he wants more. My body wants it all—but not yet. Kissing and touching is more than amazing.
He cracks a grin. “What are you thinking?” he asks tenderly.
I move my hands along his chest to his collarbones and down his arms. “I want to kiss you again.”
He answers by covering my mouth with his, urging my mouth open and kissing me so deeply, so passionately, I feel it in my toes. His kisses are desperate, fierce, and hungry. I match his urgency, kiss for kiss. My tongue twirls and dances with his. It feels like we’re one. I’ve pressed my body so tightly against his I can hear and feel his heart beating. His hair is fisted in my hands and my legs are locked behind him, my body declaring what I’ve known along. He’s mine, and I never want to let him go.
Many, many minutes later, he slows his kisses down. His breathing slackens. I match his pace. My lips are swollen and my face feels raw from the scruff on his face. He suckles my bottom lip, and I sigh. Content. Happy.
“That was... You are…” I trail off. Kyle’s features are serious. Does he regret what happened? “What’s wrong?”
He takes my hands, and turns them over, like he’s studying them or seeing them for the first time.
“I’m sorry,” I say, realizing he probably wants more. That he’s used to much, much more.
He grabs me and pulls me tightly against him. “Maddie, you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known.” His voice is filled with tender astonishment.
I feel the same way about him, but I can’t find my voice. We stay wrapped in each other’s arms a long time. Until finally he pulls me off the bench and walks me home.
At the door he asks, “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I have a test to study for.”
“Can I cook you dinner at my place?”
My face lights up. “What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
24
Maddie
He’s Gravity and I’m the Moon
“So Collin? How’d you guys meet?”
I haven’t told Gina about what happened in the piano room yesterday. The experience is too private, too sacred. Kyle and I practiced our duet and he invited me over for dinner. That’s all I said. She seems to think tonight is the night. I’m not sure. My body disagrees.
I pull on my slightly baggy jeans and a white shirt and fluff my hair. I’m wearing it down and wavy. Lip gloss on my lips. Ballet flats on my feet.
Gina hands me her heart necklace, the one she let me wear the other night. “Keep it. It looks better on you.”
“Really? Thanks, Gina.”
“No biggie.” She plops on her bed and flips open her Psych book.
“Collin?” I remind her, rubbing on some deodorant.
“Uh, fine.” She picks up her yellow highlighter and marks a line on the page. “He’s in my Biology class. He’s my lab partner. We talk. He seems to like that I’m crazy. And I like his pretty hair.” Gina slams her book shut and sits. “End of story.”
I’m about to tell her she’s lying when there’s a knock on the door.
It’s Kyle. The boy I’ve loved since I was nine. The man whose very presence makes my heart pound in a beautiful melody. My veins sing in harmony. And what he did to me with his thumb—my body trembles at the memory. The butterflies in my belly are back and pirouetting eagerly.
Gina opens the door. “Hey.”
“Hello.” He waves at her.
I walk toward him like he’s gravity and I’m the moon. I’m can’t resist his pull. I don’t want to. I move into his atmosphere and bask in his radiance. He smiles at me. And I’m whole. The feeling shocks me.
When I’m close he reaches out his hand and I take it. My hand in his. Our hands together. It’s right. I know it. I know my parents somehow know it too. And they would approve. What Kyle’s father did has nothing to do with him. He is his own person, his own man. Kyle is kind, generous, giving. I can’t blame him for my parents’ deaths anymore than I can forgive his father. Life is what it is. I am who I am. Kyle is who he is.
It’s time for me to move on.
“What are you making her for dinner?” Gina asks, her hands clasped behind her back.
He looks at her, and then at me. “I was thinking peanut butter and jelly?” He raises his eyebrows in question.
Gina bursts into laughter. “Sounds about right.”
I don’t comment, just smile and enjoy the easy tension between Gina and Kyle. I like that they get along.
“Actually, I’ve got Chicken Cordon Bleu in the oven, a green salad in the refrigerator, some French bread, and chocolate soufflé for dessert.” Kyle looks at me when he says the word dessert, and my inner thighs quiver.
“Who made it, your mommy?” Gina is teasing him, and under any other circumstance, it would be funny. But not with Kyle.
I inhale. Glance at him carefully. His mother died when he was a baby. He doesn’t remember her, and he’s always been touchy about it. A few times, when I was over at Kyle’s house, his dad would fling around words about his mother, words like: whore, slut, and trash. I think his dad did it to make Kyle angry. It worked.
And the way Kyle tenses, I know he’s thinking about everything I am, and more.
Gina and her big mouth!
I squeeze his hand. “Sounds fantastic,” I say, moving closer.
He walks me to the door.
“You two have fun.” Gina waves. She’s none the wiser about what just happened, about the pain she just inflicted.
I wave. “See ya, Roomie.” The smile on her face is tinted with sadness.
I want to make her feel better, do something to ease her pain. But I’m not sure what that something is. At least there’s a beginning happening between her and Collin.
I had a momentary worry when she kissed me the other night, but now I know it wasn’t about me personally. I owned a set of lips and she wanted a sober kiss. For some silly reason, I’m glad to have been a part of that. And hopefully with Collin she can have many firsts. A relationship. Maybe even love—if Collin deserves it.
I glance at Kyle as we ride down the elevator. He’s watching me. Amused by something. His tension gone.
“What?” I ask, leaning against him.
“I love watching you think. Every emotion flashes across your face. You’re so open, so good. Are you sure you want to get involved with a guy like me?”
I kiss him gently on the mouth. Suckle his bottom lip. “You’re the only guy I ever wanted to get involved with, Kyle Hadley.”
25
Maddie
Marinated Meatballs
I help Kyle clean up after dinner. “You’ve got serious skills,” I say, placing the remainder of the salad in the fridge.
“Thanks. I’ve been cooki
ng for myself a long time. A guy can only eat so many PB&Js before he has to take matters into his own hands.”
I force a laugh. We are suddenly moving toward territory I don’t want to venture in. Talk about his home life, his dad. I know he can’t help what happened. I know it isn’t his fault, but I can’t talk about his dad like he’s just some normal guy. He isn’t. He’s a murderer.
Kyle closes the fridge and grabs my hands. “What are you thinking?” He brushes some hair off my face, stroking my cheek with his thumbs.
“My aunt likes to cook strange meals.”
He smiles, a little sad. “Like what?”
I think a second. “Marinated meatballs in crisp taco shells was a weird one. Sushi with spaghetti, lima beans and tofu.”
Kyle makes a sick face.
“You want me to go on?”
He chuckles. “Nah, I get it.” He takes both of my hands in his and pulls me into the living room. “Want to watch some TV?”
“Sure.” We sit on his couch.
He locates the TV remote and turns the TV on. Football highlights come on. “Football?”
“If you want,” I say sitting back against the cushions.
He turns so he’s facing me, touches my lips with his forefinger. “What do you like to watch?”
I’m momentarily distracted by the way my body is suddenly humming at his nearness. He touches me and I’m like a light, on and ready to shine. My eyes focus on his lips. I want to kiss him, touch him. So many ideas fill my head.
He bats at my nose playfully. “Earth to Maddie. Come in, Maddie.”
“Oh,” I say and blush. “I mostly watch what my aunt and uncle watch. The Brady Bunch, I Dream of Genie.” I tuck my hands in my lap. “I prefer to read.”
He scoots closer. “What do you read?”
His nearness is making me nervous. “The Great Gatsby. Anne of Green Gables. Lord of the Flies. The Count of Monte Cristo.”
Kyle trails his finger along my eyebrows. Under my eyes. Along my nose. Across my lips. My jaw. “What about movies?”
“I watch The Ten Commandments every year. My aunt and uncle love that one. I think it’s kind of dull.”
He sits up like I’ve smacked him.
My mind has travelled back further to when my parents were alive, when life was good, easy. My mom and I watched Pride and Prejudice together. She called it a mother-daughter date. We went to the movie and had ice cream after—pralines and cream. That night is one of my favorite memories with my mother.
He cups my face in his hands. “You have a lot of catching up to do.” He’s more than eager to be the one to help, and I’m thrilled. “Want to watch one?”
“Sure.”
Kyle goes over to the cabinet under the TV and pulls open a drawer. There are dozens of movies. “Sherlock Holmes or Inglorious Basterds?”
It’s fun watching him. I push myself to the edge of the couch.
“If you want pure entertainment, there’s Transformers, or Avatar, or...” as he says the name of the movie, he pulls out the case. “Star Trek is actually pretty good.”
I rest my face in my hands, unable to help but smile. “Let’s watch Sherlock Holmes,” I say.
“You read my mind.” He grabs the movie and puts it in the DVD player. Then presses something, and the movie previews appear on the screen.
“You mind if I use your bathroom?”
“Of course. I even cleaned it because I knew you were coming.” He walks over and flicks on the light.
I can’t help but notice the closed doors to the left of the bathroom and I wonder what’s behind them. Kyle never confirmed or denied the allegations about his kinky. Other things came up. And now I’m wondering what’s behind the doors. Kyle follows my eyes, and I know he knows what I’m thinking.
“You want to see the rest of the apartment?” He moves to the door on the left and opens it. There is a small brown upright piano on the far wall, a window directly across from the door, and a closet to the left. Sheet music, music stands, and boxes of old music books are scattered all over the floor. “Piano room,” he says, nonchalant.
“I love it,” I say, and mean it. “You’re so lucky. I miss having a piano so close by. You just roll out of bed and practice, play until your heart is content.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess that’s pretty cool.” Then he closes the door and moves on to the door at the end of the small hall.
From his pocket he pulls out a key. My heart is suddenly racing. Fast. Furious. The secret room. The bed where he tied Beth and Baby to the bed.
“You sure you want to see what’s in here?”
I want to be brave, tell him, “Of course,” but I’m petrified and agitated. So instead I only nod.
He puts the key in the lock and turns. The door clicks open and he pushes it out of the way.
I step closer, move past him. It’s dark until Kyle flips on the light. I can’t help that I gulp down some air.
Inside is a large mahogany four-poster bed. Lush linens in black and gold. A matching dresser across from it, and a closet to the right. On either side of the bed are identical nightstands. There’s a black bench under the large window, covered in pillows. The room is beautiful. “Wow. It’s—it’s—”
“Really kinky, right?” His features are furrowed. And I realize he’s sad.
Finally I get it. “Kyle, I’m so sorry.” I run to him and hug him tightly. Because I realize I’m letting him down. The things people say about him, the rumors, they’re just that. Rumors. I know the real Kyle. He’s shown me over and over the past few weeks.
He responds by hugging me tight. He tilts back so I can see his face and leans in. Kisses me. His lips are gentle, filled with care.
“Mmmmm, you are a great kisser,” I whisper against his lips.
He smirks, his lips still on mine. “And you’re such an authority.”
“Hey, I have good taste.” My fingers have found their way under his brown t-shirt and are stroking the tight skin over his ripped abs. My pinky fingers keep brushing against the band of his jeans. Goosebumps constrict his skin, and he breathes out slowly. “You smell like garlic,” I say.
He chuckles. “Oooh, tell me how you really feel.”
I know he’s joking, but I decide to take the opportunity to be serious. “So what exactly is kinky?”
He steps back, a questioning look on his face. “You’re joking.”
“No. I’ve heard the word used a lot lately. Those girls said you tied them to the bed.” I step out of his arms. “I’ve seen a video about sex. I get the logistics of the actual act. But... Well, obviously there’s more.” I pause, taking a deep breath to steady my raging nerves. “The way you make me, my body feel. That has nothing to do with having babies.”
Kyle smiles and kisses the top of my head. “I’m not sure why they started saying I like it kinky. I mean I guess…” He trails off and walks to the closet, then turns back. “Can I show you?”
A nervous giggle escapes. This is my worst nightmare. That he would want me to be into whatever wacky stuff he’s into, and I can’t. I won’t.
At least let him show you what he’s talking about, I think. “Okay, but go easy on me. No whips or handcuffs.” My hands cross over my chest. And my mouth is suddenly parched.
“Not until you’re ready, Freckles,” he says sarcastically as he pulls open the closet door. I’m suddenly desperate to see what’s inside, but, at the same time, I’m terrified. What sorts of things are in there? Beyond handcuffs and a whip, I’m clueless. So it’s more about curiosity. But when I move toward him, he closes the door.
“Hey, I’m ready.” I put my hands on my hips.
“Really? Then take off your clothes.” He arches a brow, gauging whether I’m serious or not.
Noise, the likes of which I’ve never heard, escapes my mouth. “Ummmm.” All sorts of conflicting feelings are raging.
He chuckles softly. “The kink in the closet will hurt, but only in a good way.” I ge
t the sense that he’s teasing me, but his words have me quaking in my shoes. I take a step toward the door.
He realizes I’m scared and walks over.
“What’s in the closet?” I ask, anxious.
He lowers his eyes. “Not much,” he says, lowering his eyes evasively.
“W-what?” I’ve decided there’s a reason curiosity killed the cat. I don’t want to know anymore. I’ll stick with kissing.
He sighs and walks back over to the closet. Pulls out black material and a black feather. Both are wrapped in plastic. “See these?”
I nod.
“This,” he rips open the plastic containing the material, “is a blindfold. It’s used to cover the eyes of your lover. It allows the person to feel everything more intensely."
I close my eyes a second. Search for strength. Open them. That might be okay.
“And that?” I ask, pointing at the feather.
He pulls it from the plastic and slides the tip along my inner forearm. Goosebumps grow all over my skin. “It’s for pleasing.” He smiles sadly.
I feel bad about that. I do, but I need to know what sort of stuff he’s into. Better to find out before I fall in love with him. Again.
Too late, my mind whispers, but I ignore it. “Will you let me see what else is in the closet?”
He sighs.
“Are you going to remain jumpy if I don’t?”
I nod my head yes.
“Then of course I will.” He sighs and swings the door wide open.
I peer inside. There are three garment bags hanging side by side. Underneath are three pairs of shoes. Nothing else. I glance at him, shocked. “Where are the handcuffs, the whips?” As soon as I ask, I regret it.
He goes over and sits on the bed. “I really didn’t want to discuss what I’ve done with other women, but since you keep bringing it up, I’ll tell you, and then hopefully we can put it behind us.”
Touching Melody (A Forever First Novel) Page 13
