by Eden Bradley
Smiling, she turned to him. “Hey.”
He kissed her then, a light brush of lips against hers, his goatee soft on her skin. Sweet. Romantic.
Don’t start thinking this is a romance.
No, but whatever it was, it was lovely.
“Kate, we’ll be at the Oakland station in a little over an hour. That’s where you get off, right?”
“Oh.” She looked at her watch. “Yes.”
He raised himself on one arm, looked down at her, and she saw for the first time the pure, pale green of his eyes, like a calm summertime sea. His face was too serious, making her heart pound.
“We don’t have much time,” he said.
She swallowed. She didn’t want it to matter so much.
Pulling him to her, she kissed him hard. In moments he was on top of her, grinding his hips against hers, and they panted together, breathed each other in. He found another condom in his backpack. And then he didn’t stop kissing her, even as he drove into her body, as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into her.
The sex was hard and fast. Desperate. Was she the only one feeling like this? But he thrust harder, fucking her, fucking her, fucking all thought from her mind. And pleasure was like the train itself, like moving iron pounding through her system; that heavy, that powerful.
When she came this time she just broke, shattered, her body shaking hard all over. And the train rumbling away on its tracks, the churning motion of the wheels, blurred, dimmed, until there was only Ian, his cock, what he was making her feel.
Soon he tensed, shivered as he came into her body, his mouth still hard on hers. Wet, demanding, pulling pleasure from her even as her climax faded away.
He took her with him as he rolled off her, pulling her body on top of his in the narrow bunk.
“Jesus, Kate. Jesus, girl.”
“Yeah.”
He looked up at her, his eyes glassy with pleasure, his lush mouth slack, his lips swollen. His dirty blond hair was wild. She wanted to kiss him all day, wanted to just eat him up. Wanted to remember him exactly like this.
“You are so damn beautiful,” she whispered to him.
He smiled at her. Dazzling. When he reached up and stroked a lock of hair from her face, his fingertips lingering to brush her cheek, her heart thudded in her chest.
No, don’t do this….
She looked away. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.”
“Yeah, I could eat. Uh, I think the dining car opens at six.”
She nodded, got up and found her clothes, fumbled her way into them.
He got dressed, and they stopped to use the restrooms before wandering down the long aisles until they reached the dining car. It had just opened, and there were only a few other people there. He insisted on buying breakfast: coffee and blueberry muffins. They sat at a table, the morning light making her feel raw, vulnerable, highlighting the hair on his arms, his goatee, his eyelashes, in gold and red.
“Hey, what’s up with you this morning?” he asked her. “Do you regret last night? Do you regret meeting me?”
“What? No. Of course not.”
“What is it then? You’ve been so…wide open with me. And now you’re all closed up.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I’m just…you know, I was thinking at some point in the night how easy I feel with you. And I liked it. I don’t feel like I have to pretend to be anything I’m not. But this morning…”
“What is it?”
What was there to say but the truth? There was no point in doing anything else, not with Ian.
She shrugged. “I’m getting off the train in Oakland and taking BART back to San Francisco. And you’re going on to Huntington. Going home.”
“Yeah.”
“I mean, your dog is waiting for you. Your life.”
He nodded his head.
“I just wish…”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
He reached out, took her hand across the table. “But do you regret it, Kate?”
“No. I don’t.”
It was true.
“Look, we don’t live that far apart,” he said. “I could make the drive in six hours.”
“That long-distance stuff, it’s so hard.”
“It’s not impossible.”
“I don’t know. Maybe it is. Everyone has this dreamlike expectation of what things will be like, but then stuff comes up and someone always ends up disappointed. It’s silly for us to make each other any promises after one night. You can’t base anything on that.”
“Maybe.”
“Ian, I really like you. I love what’s happened between us. And I don’t want to fuck that up. This has been…beautiful, if you want to know the truth. Maybe we should just leave it that way.”
He was quiet a moment, his eyes going dark. Then, “Yeah, okay. Whatever you want, Kate.”
He looked too damn serious. Then he reached out, stroked her cheek with one fingertip, smiled at her, those dazzling white teeth, and everything seemed okay again. Everything seemed right.
“Come on—we’d better go get your bag. We’re almost there.”
She let him lead her back through the train, the sound of the wheels on the tracks seeming too loud in her ears, the morning light too bright, making her wince.
They reached his compartment, and the conductor announced her stop over the loudspeaker.
Ian grabbed her hand. “Let me help you off.”
She shook her head, the train screeching a little as it pulled into the station. She could see it from the corner of her eye through the window, could see the cold concrete of the city in the distance.
“I’m just going to go. Okay?”
He paused, his eyes locking on hers. She waited, thinking he was going to say something, but he just shook his head. “Yeah, okay.”
She squeezed his hand tight. Then he pulled her into his arms, kissed her, his mouth coming down hard on hers, his coffee-scented lips, his tongue, so damn sweet. She let herself melt into him because that was exactly what she wanted to do.
Be myself.
He let her go, took a step back. “Better get going.”
He smiled at her, and she nodded, heaved her bag onto her shoulder, turned and walked through the door.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered under her breath as she made her way to the next car, went down the stairs, stepped onto the quiet platform. All around her the city was gray, bleak. Lonely. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t go until the damn train pulled away.
She waited while a handful of new passengers boarded, waited while the train idled, then lurched forward, iron wheels grating on iron tracks. Frantic suddenly, she tried to find the window of Ian’s compartment, but the windows all looked the same.
“Fuck.”
She hadn’t even gotten his last name, his phone number, e-mail.
She ran a hand through the wild tangle of her hair, pulled tight.
If she was really going to be herself, be true to herself, she would have stayed on the train, asked Ian if she could go to L.A. with him, spend some time with him, get to know him. Take that chance. Wasn’t part of being yourself living without regrets?
The train was gaining speed, wind rushing past her, pushing her hair into her eyes. She wiped it away, her vision clearing as the last of the train left the station.
Ian stood on the other side of the tracks.
He was smiling, looking a little unsure. She grinned back, her heart pounding a lovely rhythm in her body. And his smile broke, lighting up his face. Dazzling. Brilliant.
Without taking his eyes off her, he stepped onto the tracks, crossed over and took her in his arms.
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ISBN: 978-1-4268-5145-2
Night Moves
Copyright © 2010 by Eden Bradley
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