I focus for a second, then tell her, “Jeremy’s upstairs, but he’s done talking to Elena.”
She gives me a suspicious look and I smile and tap my ear with one finger.
“Ah, right. Well put on your earmuffs or something,” she warns. “Because that wasn’t the only speech I’ve been practicing, and the second one isn’t for you.”
“Really, you practiced that?” I tease. “Don’t worry, the bulleted points didn’t give it away or anything.”
She scowls at me, but it doesn’t entirely hide the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Apparently all the smartass in the family didn’t go to your brother. Too bad.”
“Too bad,” I agree solemnly, and she snorts and heads for the stairs.
I turn toward the kitchen, hoping everyone will stay upstairs long enough for me and Caroline to steal a moment for ourselves.
In the doorway, I stop and prop a shoulder against the wall, crossing my arms as I watch Caroline slam her way around the kitchen. The angry indie girl rock escaping from her ear buds is more clue than I needed that she’s feeling frustrated. Still, I can’t help but smile at the effort it must have taken her to resist eavesdropping.
Before today, I’ve rarely allowed myself to think about Caroline as anything more than a friend. There have definitely been some moments, especially when we’ve danced together, that my body voted its enthusiastic disagreement with that categorization, but that’s nothing unexpected. She’s a startlingly attractive woman, with one of those infectious smiles I can never resist. And if I think back—way, way back—I can remember having a similar physical response to Lexi when we first met. It faded over time, as I stopped really seeing her as a woman, and more just as the person who was my friend.
I figured I would eventually settle into that same comfort with Caroline. But today when she looked at me and said Damon wasn’t the only one who loved me, I felt myself snap taut, and then ease all at once like everything in me finally…relaxed.
I clear my throat to give her warning and she startles and whips around toward me, tugging out her ear buds.
“Oh hey,” she says with a bright, painfully artificial smile. “You two finished up?”
She looks down at her music player, fumbling much longer than necessary to find the pause button.
I smile, strangely tickled by the jealousy she can’t quite keep under wraps. “Cali was just thanking me for showing her how she didn’t want to live her life,” I say dryly.
Caroline looks back up at me, her fingers relaxing on the iPod. “Mmm, tactful,” she says with a smile much warmer than the one she had a moment ago.
“You told me the same thing in a laundromat not long ago,” I remind her, pushing off the wall and slowly, steadily making my way across the room to her.
Her eyes widen, a startled and lovely blue under darkened lashes. “Yes,” she hedges. “But in a nice way, though.”
“Very nice,” I agree, letting my voice drop low and soft.
She swallows hard.
I’m close enough to touch her now, and I take one more step so she has to tilt her head back to see my face, her lips trembling and enticingly shiny. They smell sweet, like berries with a touch of honey, because of course in the midst of me losing my mind and endangering all of them by offering to trade Silas, and Cali bursting in, and Damon somehow escaping the Augustines, Caroline Forbes not only found time to make lunch for everyone, she also applied lip gloss.
How the hell did I ever think I could resist this girl?
She’s still clutching her MP3 player and looped ear buds between my chest and hers. I raise my hands and let the very tips of my fingers trace the angle of her elbows, the thin layer of cotton between the pad of my middle finger and the sensitive back of her arm suddenly warm to the touch.
“Thank you,” I say simply, sincerely.
She sucks in a breath far bigger than what she needs.
“For what?” she squeaks. “I mean, obviously I insulted you at the laundromat and just now I was making sandwiches and I got distracted and accidentally put mustard on yours but it’s too late to switch because the only other person who doesn’t like mustard is Jeremy and I already put pickles on his and you hate pickles and—”
I kiss Caroline.
Her lips are already parted so my tongue slips inside as if I were invited and I stroke hers slowly, warmly, like I’m saying hello to a friend who has been here all along but that I’ve never appreciated the way I should have.
I taste the edges of her where the texture changes from smooth to rough and when she exhales in a jagged rush, I drink her in greedily, reveling in the caress of soft golden hair on my hands and her breasts against my chest and my head is spinning and I know I’m losing control of this but it doesn’t matter because her nails score me underneath the back of my shirt and my belt buckle snags on the top of hers and I feel her flat belly flutter excitedly in response and dear sweet Jesus.
I flash her back against the cabinets and boost her up onto the counter, her tongue driving me out of my mind and there's the sound of tearing fabric and the tug of pressure against my back and I hate the button of her jeans and then there’s lace against my fingertips and I have to touch her and—
“Agh, what is that?” Caroline shrieks, barreling off the counter and colliding with my chest. I catch her, hugging her tight against me because I adore her skin and her scent—fresh baked bread and her second favorite perfume which is rich raspberries with something silky smooth behind it—and I drop my mouth to her neck and scrape the hollow above her delicate collarbone with dull teeth and a hungry tongue. She gasps and laughs all at once, twisting in my grip as she swipes at something on the counter.
I lift my head, blinking dazedly to see the half-squashed tomato I placed her on as she tosses it into the trash can. My torn shirt is hanging crookedly from one shoulder and I can feel a weird thread of something poking my abs. I look down to see that her iPod has managed to lodge itself in my waistband, one ear bud wrapped around my half-undone belt and the cord draped down over the fly of my pants.
“Um…” Caroline says and I look up at her. The zipper and button of her jeans are entirely torn out and her shirt is missing the lower half of its buttons. Her lips are already swollen and I have to close my eyes at the sight of them, swallowing dryly against the heat flashing through my whole body.
“I’m sorry,” I manage. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to go so fast and God I don’t know what got into me and your pants…Caroline, I’m…”
She lays a slender finger across my lips and I almost moan, my body ferocious in its response. I want to bite her fingertip.
“Kitchen, bad,” she murmurs, nodding her tousled head of gorgeous hair toward the open archway leading to the rest of the house. She grabs my belt and backs up instead, towing me along with her as a grin breaks out over her face. “Laundry room, good.”
I almost choke on my laughter, I’m so relieved she’s not pissed at me for practically mauling her.
“I honestly don’t know what happened,” I tell her as she pulls me into the laundry room off the garage. “I’ve never lost my head like that before, ever.”
Her smile flashes brightly right before she shuts the door and closes us in together in a gentle, private darkness.
I can’t see a thing, but then her soft lips touch the skin beneath my ear and I don’t care. I never need to see anything ever again.
Her nails scrape against denim as her palms slide down the thighs of my jeans. I clamp my teeth closed against a moan, digging both hands into my hair and pulling until it hurts because it’s the only way I’m going to be able to let her set the pace.
My jeans tear with a sound like an explosion and the iPod clatters to the floor, the air of the room a shock to my overheated skin. I growl deep in my throat, my biceps balling thick as I force myself to be still. There’s more ripping cloth and my eyes roll back into my head as I all but pant with the knowledge that she’s naked, only in
ches away from me and—
I stumble as she pulls me toward her, her nails biting into me as her small hand grips the base of my neck. Her tongue steals into my mouth and my whole brain goes up in flames when she wraps her legs around me. I forget everything I’ve ever learned about women in too many years on this earth but it doesn’t matter because her lips are demanding on mine and she feels perfect but when try to move closer, my thighs collide with the cold metal of the dryer she’s sitting on. She laughs breathlessly and steals one more fiery kiss before pulling back and saying, “I’ve wanted to do that ever since the first day you walked into our high school.”
I drop my head onto her shoulder, panting, forcing myself to be still long enough that I can control the press of my fangs as they threaten to lengthen in a clear show of possession.
“Thank God you didn’t,” I gasp when I can speak again. “I’m not sure I could have survived you back then.”
My eyes have started to adjust to the light, only enough that I can see a hint of the curve of her waist, the swell of one breast. It’s unbearably sexy, like shadow lingerie.
“What makes you think you can survive me now?” she purrs, and leans back on her hands, deliberately arching in a way that makes my mouth go utterly dry. I slam a hand down onto the dryer, feeling the metal crumple under my palm as I dig my fingers in, trying to steady myself.
I am screwing everything up.
I should have talked to her first, kissed her second, because now she’s never going to believe what I want to say and every inch of me is focused on her so all she has to do is smile and sensation shivers up my spine and rakes goosebumps across my abs.
“Caroline, I—” The words are like puzzle pieces I can’t fit together, and a soundless groan squeezes my throat but I fight it back long enough to say hoarsely, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Her hair brushes my chest when she leans forward, her arms coming around me as her forehead drops to mine. I can hear her smile, and it is more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen with my eyes when she says, “Me, too.”
Chapter 25: Xbox Hero
JEREMY
I miss my Xbox.
Elena can’t watch me play without flinching because every car crash, flying bullet and stab wound reminds her of the real-life versions, but those things just make me feel alive. And yeah, you gotta do it from a stationary seat on a couch. But it’s still perfect for moments like this one, when I’m dying to do something, but no run burns my muscles enough, and lifting a barbell feels like the most ineffectual shit I can imagine.
On the Xbox, I can fly. I can haul ass with rubber smoking down a destroyed street or around a wide, smooth racetrack filled with cars that aren’t as fast as mine. I can throw a punch that knocks someone clear across a room or kick the shit out of them in a long, no-holds barred brawl that doesn’t leave my knuckles bruised and my voice sputtering as I try to explain my latest school suspension to Damon’s irritated scowl.
I can crash and burn, take two bullets to the chest or a sword to the intestines and I just get right back up again. On the Xbox, I’m the equal of even the oldest vampire. Best of all, with my fingers on the controller, I never have to figure out what to say.
My choice of weapon can be my voice, the modifications I make to my street rod the bass line beneath the music, the bulging muscles of my avatar the chords that carry my song.
I swallow back my longing as I stand in the center of my room in the vacation rental, my hands itching for a controller while I try not to think about what’s happening downstairs. I force myself to move, sweeping a stack of clothes up from where they’ve been collecting in a corner and balling them into my fist, shoving them into the end of my duffel.
My Xbox is a melted hunk of metal and plastic, all my sketchpads a handful of ashes, and my new Audi abandoned in the parking lot of the Grill. My whole life in Mystic Falls is barely more than a memory.
My spare set of sneakers is sitting by the hallway door and I kick them back toward the duffel, letting the laces fly as they flip through the air.
Packing is the only thing I have left to do right now, even though I’m not sure if we’re leaving, or where we’d go if we did. I couldn’t do shit for my sister, who is totally emotionally exhausted, though she seems content for the first time ever to trust Damon and Ric to do what needs to be done and come back safe. I did my best to help rescue Damon, but I should have freaking guessed he’d be out and three beers into his freedom celebration before we ever caught up to him. And somehow I was big-headed enough to think Cali didn't just come back to help us find Damon, but when I went back downstairs, Caroline told me with a sympathetic look in her eye that Cali “needed” to talk to Stefan. Alone.
I look around, but in less than five minutes, I’ve already packed everything. The only thing left is Cali’s iPod, which until now was my prized possession. Every night since she left, I’ve laid on this bed and wandered through her playlists, trying to decipher the meaning in the order of songs, wondering if she was drawn to each particular one for the lyrics or maybe the deep percussion thump, possibly the dark twang of the bass line. It felt so private, like she’d invited me inside her mind.
But like her, her world of music was just on loan.
I snatch the iPod off my bedside table, because I might as well leave it downstairs for her to take whenever she’s done “talking” to Stefan. Not like that’s such a big surprise, really: girls always go for the older guys. It’s just my shitty luck I’m consistently attracted to older women.
There’s a quiet rap of knuckles on my open bedroom door and I stall for a second, winding the ear buds around the MP3 player. I remind myself to calm down because that’s probably Elena and if she’s knocking it means she’s the insecure kind of sad, and I need to scrape up a sense of humor so I can tease her into a better mood.
I turn around and my hands pause on the last turn of the ear buds’ cord when I see the girl standing in my doorway. Her hands are clasped around her messenger bag strap, the pale skin of her knee peeking through one of the rips in her jeans as she scuffs the toe of her combat boot against the ground. Her eyes are somehow different than I’ve ever seen them before.
“You heading out?” I ask stiffly.
“Not yet. Why, was that my cue?” she asks, but her voice doesn’t have enough confidence to carry the sarcasm and the vulnerability of it feels like a fist to my chest.
I look down, reminding myself I’m not the one doing the rejecting here. “I figured since you and Stefan talked, you’re probably ready to get back.”
Please, God, don’t let her try to stay here with him. I don’t think I can stand to watch them together.
“I wanted to thank Stefan for helping me realize how much I hated the way I was living,” she says, her voice low and a little scratchy. She pauses and I can hear her swallow. “I wanted to thank you, too.”
I don’t know if she means for saving her life back at the boarding house, or for giving her a chance to get to know Stefan again after he compelled her to forget, but whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.
“No problem. Drive safe.”
I cross the room and thrust the iPod into her chest, its smooth curves feeling suddenly foreign and cruel in my fingers.
Instead of taking the MP3 player back, she clasps my whole hand, her small fingers only reaching about halfway around the hard heel of my palm, the cord dangling free between both our fingers.
“Jeremy, please…”
I’ve never heard her voice so naked and damn it, I can’t stand to listen to her try to let me down easy. I have to get out of here.
“I know this is probably all too little, too late,” she says achingly, and her fingers are shivering slightly everywhere her skin is touching mine. “I know you gave me my chance and I chose to walk away from it. And I’ll leave you alone after this, I swear, but you have to let me say thank you. Because you’re the one who showed me how much better my life could be. And
when you looked at me, I realized I wanted to be the person you saw, you know? And I’m not yet but I want to try and you make me feel…” Her words soften into a little huff of air as she grasps for the right word and doesn’t find it.
I look up from our entwined hands and her eyes send a jolt through my whole body. She’s watching me like she’s begging me to kiss her. Like she’s terrified I might.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and starts to pull away from me. “Look, keep the iPod. I should go.”
She can’t possibly mean what I think she does. I drop the music player and catch her hand as she turns toward the hall.
“Why are you sorry?” I ask. My heart is pounding so hard in my ears that my voice sounds deeper than usual, and I can’t tell if it’s just me, or if she hears it too.
She looks away, a little “ha” of a defeated, bitter laugh twisting out of her as she tugs against my grip. “Because obviously, I have no freaking clue how to go after a guy like you. I’ve never done it before and it is painfully apparent my heart needs a speechwriter.”
The Vampire Diaries: Trust In Betrayal (Kindle Worlds) (In Time We Trust Trilogy Book 3) Page 33
