Touching Melody (A Forever First Novel)

by RaShelle Workman

  I nod, kneeling in front of him, placing my hands on his thighs. I want to tell him I’m so sorry and ask his forgiveness, but I can’t. I need to hear what he has to say.

  “We’d all been drinking. The girls came over. They brought the handcuffs and the whips. They thought it would be fun. I decided what the hell, and went for it. It was fine. Nothing to brag about. But those girls seem to disagree. Now I’m kinky and like it rough. Every time I hear the rumors, my sexual prowess and need for all things kinky gets worse.” He puts his face in his hands.

  Now I really do need to apologize. “But this room? It’s so fancy.”

  “Yeah, my aunt picked out the bedding and furniture. She thinks a guest bedroom should be nice. She paid for it.” He puts his hands over mine.

  I feel like a total bitch. “I’m s—”

  He touches a hand to my lips. “Don’t say it. You’re the first person to give a shit. You asked me about it. That’s more than anyone else has.”

  I reach out and pull his face down to me. I kiss him with all the feeling in my soul, for the boy who’s now a man, and a man I adore with all my heart. When our kiss breaks, his sadness is gone, replaced by need. For me.

  “Feel better?” he asks, his eyes on my lips.

  I swallow. Nod breathlessly. “I’m surprised really. I thought there would be all sorts of weird stuff in there. But I do feel much better.”

  “Have I disappointed you?” He smirks.

  “A little bit.” Though the truth is I’m relieved.

  “Will you take off your clothes?”

  “Serious? All of them? Right now?”

  “If you want to leave your bra and panties on, I’ll manage.” He sets the blindfold and the feather on the bed and walks to the bedroom door. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  “Okay. Wait.” I place my hand on his forearm. Kyle smiles, a delicious-I’m-gonna-rock-your-world kind of smile, and I hesitate a second. “Can I brush my teeth?”

  Turning so we face each other, he grabs me around the waist and presses my body into his. “You want to brush your teeth? That’s so sexy.” He chuckles and kisses the tip of my ear.

  I suck in a breath. “Well, if your breath smells like garlic, then I’m sure mine does too.”

  He laughs. “I’ve got something better." From the nearest nightstand he opens a drawer and pulls out a bottle of vodka. The clear liquid glistens in the light of the bedroom. He pulls out two shot glasses and fills each one. Then he hands me one and takes the other. “Ready?”

  I gulp, my nerves calming at the sight of it.

  “Bottoms up.”

  We drink together. When he’s finished, he slams his glass on the nightstand. I follow. The vodka burns its sweet burn all the way down.

  “Another?” I ask, eager for the bold abandon that comes with it. It’ll chase away all my fears. Make me brave, less wrapped up in my own head.

  “I’ve got something else in mind once you’re undressed.” He kisses me, long and deep, his tongue making me quiver. The warm glow of the alcohol licks its way along my nerve endings. I sigh against his mouth.

  “I’ll be right back.” He’s gone before I can respond.

  I slide off my shoes, undo my pants, and allow them to fall to the floor. Pull off my shirt and toss it in the pile with my shoes and pants.

  That was fast. Now what? I’m wearing a lacy pink bra and matching panties. I walk to the bench and pick up the throw pillows, touching. Pull open the chest of drawers. They’re empty.

  “Another shot is in order,” I decide aloud, and pour myself one. Swallow. It burns, burns, burns. So good. Every worry, concern, frustration I’ve ever had diminishes. So I drink one more.

  Then fall back on the bed. The comforter is soft. Close my eyes, relax.

  I imagine Kyle touching me with the feather and I pick it up, run it through my fingers. I’m warm everywhere. My lower belly is tight with anticipation.

  The door opens and he’s there.

  “Kyle,” I say, sitting up.

  His eyes rake my body. Each spot his eyes touch ignites with heat. He’s got the same dark blue jeans on, but his brown shirt is gone, as are his shoes.

  I smack my hands on the bed in frustration. Why do I keep forgetting to look at his shoes until it’s too late? It’s ludicrous.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t like my outfit?” He lets out a soft laugh.

  “No, it’s not that.” The words sound a little slurred. “Your shoes. I haven’t seen them.”

  He glances at the vodka bottle, back at me. Then walks over, grabs me by the neck and brings his mouth down on mine hard. I think my lips will be bruised tomorrow, but I don’t care. The way he’s kissing me sends a current through my veins.

  When we break apart his breathing is heavy, and I know it matches my own.

  “I always knew you’d be an amazing kisser, Maddie Martin.”

  I smile at the compliment, heady with his kisses and the alcohol. He playfully pushes me back. I allow myself to fall against the soft mattress and put my arms above my head. “I have a good teacher,” I say coyly.

  He growls. Puts a knee between my legs, spreading them. Climbs on the bed, and leans over me. I think he’s going to kiss me again, but he rocks back on his knees. “Ready for the blindfold?”

  I blush, and giggle. “Sure.”

  He picks it up and ties it over my eyes. The darkness is liberating. I feel braver already. My hands are drawn to his stomach and I run my fingers along his chest, his abs, to the small area around his belly button. And play with the dark hair running from his belly button to down below. And Kyle’s down below is suddenly of great interest to me.

  I unzip his pants, and he sucks in his breath. Holds it. I think he’s waiting to see what I’ll do. I honestly have no idea. When I don’t do anything else, he gently presses his knee further up between my thighs.

  “You won’t hurt me?” I ask.

  He pushes my legs further apart and kneels between them. “No. Never. I want you to feel incredible.”

  “I already do.” I touch my hands to my blindfold, suddenly desirous to see his face, but he pulls my hands away.

  “You’re stunning,” he whispers, and I hear him take a deep breath. I feel the softest touch of the feather along my collarbones. I catch my breath, shocked by how good it feels.

  He drags it along each arm, across my stomach. “Will you tell me what your tattoos mean?” He touches each one with the tip of the feather.

  “Right now?” I ask, surprised he wants to hear about them now. Weren’t we going to do things? Wasn’t he going to—

  Kyle pushes the bottom half of his body against mine. And I gasp. Maybe he wants to do both. And that thought fills my lower belly with quivering butterflies.

  “Uh-um.” The alcohol is raging through me in high gear.

  He rocks into me again. Brushes his lips against my cleavage. And I can’t think. I want to tell him I have no idea what they mean. None whatsoever.

  “I’m listening,” he says gruffly, pushing against me again. Licking my neck.

  “I-they have to do with my—”

  Kyle’s amazing lips kiss the first tattoo, just below a breast. “I love because I am loved.” He presses his hips into mine.

  It’s too much. The alcohol. The exquisite passion raging inside my body. The world starts to spin. I wrap my legs around Kyle’s. Link them with his. And it feels like we’re one.

  “I love you,” I whisper, and the spinning blackness swallows me.

  26

  Kyle

  Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You

  I want to be mad. Never in my life have I wanted anyone more than I want Maddie. And she’s passed out. “What the hell? Maddie.” I try shaking her awake, but she only moans and tightens her legs around mine. If this were anyone else I’d feel claustrophobic. But Maddie isn’t just anyone. She’s the girl I shared my dreams with.

  I rest most of my body weight on my arms. “You love me, huh?
” I whisper softly. I’ve heard that before. Words said in the heat of passion. They mean nothing unless they’re said while sober. “Freckles. What am I going to do with you?”

  Her legs are still entwined with mine. I smile. Kiss the tip of her nose. When it comes to the ways of the world, she’s still such a child. It surprises me how naïve she is, but I love it about her. The truth is I love everything about her. Tattoos. Lack of drinking skills. All of it.

  Maddie loosens her grip and I roll away. Carefully climb off the bed and cover her with a blanket.

  My front door opens. Slams closed. “Kyle. Bro. You decent?”

  I crack my knuckles and take a deep breath.

  Evan is smiling.

  “How did you get in here? I locked that.”

  He holds up a key. “A spare.” Evan gives me a once over. “Nice outfit. Bet Pu… uh, Maddie loved it.” He laughs, obnoxious. “Now that you’ve got her all warmed up, can I play?” His eyes glance toward the spare room.

  “No. She’s sleeping.”

  “Not for long,” he says, walking toward the door.

  I jump up. Block his path. “I said no.” My arms are crossed, my feet planted firmly.

  “Dude. What do you care? She’s played you. Treated you like dirt under your feet. Why are you protecting her? Let’s have some fun. She des—”

  “Evan, I swear to God. If you finish that sentence I’ll kick your ass into next Tuesday.” Obviously our little chat the other night meant nothing to him.

  Evan snorts. Shoves me. “You sayin’ you’d choose her over me? Over your family?”

  “That’s what I’m saying. Yes.” I nod once.

  “Her parents drove a wedge between my dad and yours. She’s doing the same to you and me.” He shakes his head. “I don’t get you. And my dad is going to be pissed. He isn’t going to like it.” Evan moves to the door. “If you do this, choose her over us, there will be consequences. And they ain’t gonna be pretty.” He yanks open the door. Slams it shut.

  Maddie

  I open my eyes and am surprised to see that it’s light outside. “What happened?” My head is woozy, my mouth tastes like it’s stuffed with cotton. Too much alcohol. I sit up and am shocked to see I’m still in my bra and undies. Plus I’m in Kyle’s room, not the secret room.

  Last I remember Kyle was touching me with a feather.

  I look around. Listen for signs of life. Kyle isn’t here. Flustered, I climb out of bed. Grab my phone. There are two texts from Gina. One from last night.

  Staying the night with Collin. Don’t worry.

  Then, this morning.

  Are you and KK still together? Still a V?

  There’s one from Kyle.

  Had an emergency. See you in class. Lock the door when you leave.

  My heart sinks. I feel terrible—guilty. Kyle and I were supposed to be together. He wanted to do things and I was going to let him. But I must’ve fallen asleep. Or did something happen and I just don’t remember it? I shift my body, trying to see if there’s anything different. Whether I feel pain, discomfort. I don’t.

  The big V is still intact, I think, somewhat disappointed.

  I smack myself in the head. How can I be so stupid? He probably hates me. I can’t blame him. I’m so rude. The queen of rude. If there were an Academy Award for rudeness, I’d be the winner—hands down.

  “Dammit.”

  I quickly text Gina. Yep. I don’t go into details.

  I stare at Kyle’s number, trying to decode whether or not his text tells me he’s angry, or that he’ll be fine if he never sees me again. But he did say he’d see me in class. That has to mean he still wants to see me. Right? Ugh!

  I make a mental promise to stop drinking. I survived the first eighteen years without it. No amount of warm fuzzies is worth falling asleep on the only guy I’ve ever cared about while he was in the process of doing things to my naked body. Double ugh!

  The clock on his bedside table says it's eight fifty-five. My English class starts in five minutes. I’m not going to make it. And since I have Kyle’s place to myself for the next hour at least, I decide to take a look around.

  His room is kinda plain. There’s a bed. A dresser, a closet, and a desk. On his desk is a computer. The screensaver is music notes. A piano rendition of Titanium. I can hear the melody in my head as it crosses the screen. His window has blue curtains. They’re open. I peer out the window and can see the Bellam Springs campus. What few trees there are have lost all of their leaves and are stark. The grass is yellow. It’s windy out, a Bellam Springs standard. Most days are windy. A big tumbleweed bounces across the park, gets stuck on a silver slide.

  My stomach grumbles and I head toward the kitchen. Taped to the small white refrigerator is a piece of paper.

  Hungry? Try the strawberries. They’re delicious.

  I open the fridge and see them sitting in a ceramic bowl. Next to it is a smaller bowl of what looks like chocolate sauce. Underneath is the chocolate soufflé.

  The guilt in my chest grows bigger.

  “You’re such an idiot.” I grab a strawberry and pop it in my mouth. It is delicious. I get a bottle of water and open it. Chug half of it down. Place it on the counter and go to the bathroom.

  It dawns on me his apartment is big, especially for the poor son of a dirty cop. Douchebag Stuart’s words, but there’s a glimmer of truth to them.

  Three bedrooms, two full bathrooms and no roommates. How can Kyle afford this? Why isn’t he living with his dad? This is his hometown. It would make sense. And even if he wanted a place of his own, why wouldn’t he have roommates?

  I flip on the bathroom light. It’s nice. Thick forest green towels hang on the rack next to a glass shower. Inside are the necessities. Shampoo. Soap. Body wash. A razor. It’s pink, and I wonder if he put those there for me or if they’re standard for all female guests.

  When I finish peeing, I wash my hands and go into the spare bedroom. The secret room. The room I thought would be filled with all manner of kinkiness. Turns out Kyle isn’t kinky—not really. He’s wonderful.

  I’m practically drowning in guilt.

  The feather and the blindfold are sitting on the bed, laying there in all of their black glory as though they’ve been shunned, have died, and are displayed for mourning. I can’t help but sigh.

  The vodka is gone, probably put away. My clothes are folded and on the bed as well. I quickly pull them on, and debate whether I should leave, but then I remember the piano room.

  I want to play, lose myself in the music for a little while. The room smells like old paper, and Kyle. A heady combination. I sit at the bench and run through a few exercises. Limbering up my fingers. While I’m playing I allow my mind to wander. To think about my life and the way everything is topsy-turvy.

  I think about Gina. My aunt and uncle. The reasons behind why my aunt forced me to stay away from Kyle.

  After thirty minutes of playing, I stand. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off the closet. I have to know what’s inside. I open it and my nose is pummeled with dust. Crate after crate is filled with old books, yellowing music, and one is loaded with piles of sealed envelopes.

  That’s different. I pull the crate closer and peer inside.

  My breath hitches in my throat. They are letters. Addressed to me. I pull out a few from a stack of hundreds. They all have my aunt and uncle’s address on them. They all say, in bold letters, RETURN TO SENDER. None of them are open. All of them are from Kyle.

  The most recent letter has a date of three months ago.

  He never stopped trying! He never gave up! The thought causes my heart to pound. These are Kyle’s words. Written to me. For me. An electric current rocks my body to its core. I have to know what’s inside.

  I pick up the crate, thinking I’ll just carry it back to my dorm. But what if Kyle saw me? The crate is too conspicuous. I search frantically for a bag, something. Anything. I run into the kitchen and throw open cupboards. I spot bowls, plates, cups
, wine glasses. Cereal, boxes of macaroni and cheese. Bread, peanut butter and jelly. But no bags. Finally I spot a wadded up grocery bag on the floor near the trash can.

  “Yes,” I cheer eagerly.

  I shove all the letters inside. Seven years' worth. The sheer number is overwhelming. When I leave his apartment, I lock the door like he said, and turn the handle just to make sure. It’s at that exact moment that I consider the consequences of my actions.

  Sooner or later he’ll find the empty crate I hastily stuffed back in the closet. And when he does, what will he do?

  “I’m an idiot,” I say, slamming my head against his door.

  “Hey, you alright?” Kyle’s cousin Evan is looking at me. His eyebrow cocked.

  “Oh, hey, Evan,” I say, casually hiding the bag behind my back.

  “Want a ride to campus? I’m on my way.” He moves to the staircase and heads down the three floors to the parking lot. I follow, internally debating.

  I want to say no, but it’s freezing outside. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

  His car is red and flashy, with big tires and large round lights on top. It’s an SUV of some kind. I think maybe a Ford, but I’m not sure.

  He unlocks the door with a click-click and climbs in. I open the passenger door and lift myself up. I think about Kyle and how I know he would’ve opened my door, helped me in. I wonder where Kyle learned his manners. Certainly not his father.

  The engine turns over and roars to life. Loud country blares from the stereo. Evan doesn’t bother to turn it down. I quickly buckle up and clutch the grocery bag full of Kyle’s letters to my chest.

  “Whatcha got in there?” Evan shouts over the loud music. His eyes indicate my bag.

  Thinking quickly, I say, “Just my phone and some other stuff.”

  “I still can’t believe Evan bought you a phone. That boy is whipped.” He shakes his head as he laughs.

  I have no response.

  Kyle’s driving is maniacal, and I have to resist the urge to grab the dash and hang on for dear life.