"Fuck, you feel good." Nick was panting, his chin wet from my juices, his eyes glazed with need.
I leaned forward and licked myself from his skin, enjoying the tangy taste. He groaned when he saw my tongue swipe across my bottom lip. The sound was more animal than man, and finally I had the raw, primal sex I'd craved. My smile turned into a gasp when he thrust in deeper. His cock pulsed inside of me and I squeezed, tightening my inner muscles around him.
He hissed and began pumping into me in earnest, the slap of skin against skin echoing around the kitchen, the smell of sex permeating the space. His knees banged into the cabinets as he bent his legs, changing the angle enough to hit my G-spot. When I told him I was coming again, he shouted out, grinding against me before my body pulled his orgasm from him with rolling clenches around his cock.
We stood, panting, holding on to each other as we came down from our bliss. Nick's arms around me gave a gentle squeeze as he whispered, "You and me babe, no matter what."
"Yeah, no matter what."
I squeezed back, clinging to Nick as though I might lose him at any moment. It was ridiculous. We'd just made love, strengthening our bond even as we fed the needs of our bodies. I shook off the tingle of fear that raced up my spine.
We're fine.
Everything was going to be fine.
***
After our spontaneous kitchen sex, I'd shrugged off my stupid insecurities. It'd been over a year of stumbling blocks, but it was possible we'd survive this part of our marriage intact and happy to be together, whether we had a baby or not. Damn the hormones, real and synthetic, that had my emotions so twisted up. I'd kissed my husband silly, then let him go to change into yoga pants and an off-the-shoulder cotton top before dinner.
Soon after, Nick was stealing kisses from my neck, shoulder and cheek as I made a salad. He was always fun, but I loved it when his mood was playful. When our favorite song came on, I laughed at his ridiculous dance moves and reveled in the reminder of these lost moments, the evidence of what made us work so well together.
My phone buzzed, interrupting our ridiculous dancing. Breathless, I swiped the screen to answer.
"Hey ladyface! How are you doing?" Amy's cheerful greeting beat me to the punch.
"What's up, girlfriend?" I settled in to slicing a cucumber, a smile on my lips.
Nick grinned as he strolled out of the kitchen to set the table. Amy and I—best friends in high school—had remained the same throughout college and beyond. She'd moved to Portland shortly after I did ten years ago and was married to Henry, whom she'd met during our senior year at the University of Oregon. They were also trying to get pregnant. I hadn't shared our struggles with her, except for some vague comments about wanting to start trying "soon." I'd hoped there would be nothing to talk about, aside from an announcement. If she knew we were trying too, she'd feel uncomfortable or awkward when she had her own news to celebrate, so I'd kept everything to myself.
"So, you remember our high school reunion is in two weeks?"
My pause was a long one.
"Jessa ..." Amy's tone was laced with warning.
"I'm here. I'm just wondering if there's any excuse on earth, short of death or dismemberment, that will get me out of it."
"Not gonna happen. I'm on the planning committee from hell, trying to make sure these monkeys don't end up booking us at a strip club for happy hour, and I'm working full time on top of that." Her voice dropped low, a poor imitation of a growl but just as effective. "You're going. And if you happen to die before then, I'll drag you along anyway, Weekend at Bernie's style, so fuck off."
My eyes grew wide, my knife hovering precariously in the air above a tomato. I snorted with laughter as I sliced through it, the phone nearly slipping from its place between my cheek and shoulder. "In that case, my answer is yes, of course I'm going. I wouldn't miss it for the world!"
Amy chuckled at my syrupy sweet tone. "Nick's coming too, right?"
"He's just coming for the dinner on Saturday night, but I'm planning to head to my mom's on Wednesday so I can do the meet and greets on Thursday and Friday."
"Ah, see? You were planning to go."
I hummed, a non-committal sound. I was only going because Amy had put so much effort into the event. With both of us living in Portland, I could see her anytime. I didn't need a reunion because there wasn't anyone else going that I'd want to see.
High school had been four years of mundane, twenty years ago. I'd been invisible and liked it that way. I stayed off of everyone's radar and graduated without drama. Except for the times I saw Truman Miller in the hall or, by some miracle, happened to have a class with him, there was nothing about that time in my life that I needed to reminisce about.
Amy ignored my lack of enthusiasm—though something told me she was rolling her eyes—as she launched into her tales of woe about the haphazard way it was all coming together. I listened, ignoring the way my neck cramped against the phone while I chopped carrots, making sympathetic sounds and getting irritated on her behalf when needed.
"By the way, I ran into Leo Jefferson the other day."
The knife I was holding slipped, landing on the cutting board precariously close to my finger while the rush of blood through my system made my skin tingle.
"Really? I haven't heard that name in a long time." Was my breathless response obvious?
She didn't seem to notice. "Yeah. I was visiting my parents and bumped into him at the Beanery. He's married and has a baby boy. They're living with his mom while they look for a house, believe it or not. Strange, huh? Become a semi-famous bassist and it all comes full circle when he ends up right back where he started."
Truman's best friend had reminded me too much of what I'd lost, so I hadn't stayed in touch after everything...fell apart. Still, I was aware Leo had made a respectable career for himself and I was glad for him, even as I fought the guilt settling like lead in my stomach. When I left Tru, I'd had to give up everything that reminded me of him, like an alcoholic avoids Friday night happy hours, or I never would've been able to make it. Leo's friendship had been an unfortunate casualty of my addiction to Truman.
It was clear from Amy's excited tone she assumed all of it was ancient history. After all, I was happily married now and we hadn't spoken about that particular tragedy for eons. But, the mention of Tru catapulted me back into a space in time I'd never wanted to revisit. My mind wandered through a myriad of feelings—the thrill of a first love, lust like I'd never known, crushing disappointment, deep grief.
"Jess?"
Amy's voice brought me back from the vortex of memories. "Sorry, what?"
"I said Leo wants to get together with us before the reunion. Maybe have lunch or something. You game?"
"Sure." I couldn't think of a reason to back out. Anyway, what kind of a weakling would I be if I couldn't be around my first love's best friend after over a decade? It wasn't like she was asking me to have lunch with Truman himself.
"Cool. I'll set it up, then."
The tension drained from my shoulders.
Amy yawned. "Oh! I forgot to say Truman will probably be there, too. You know he and Leo were always inseparable. It'll be like no time has passed at all."
I swallowed hard, feeling the muscles in my neck snap back to attention. Like no time has passed. "I bet."
CHAPTER TWO
Anywhere
Past~
The shiver of awareness tingling up my spine was probably just lust.
He was only a few yards away, yet the energy of my attraction was so real I could almost see it warping our surroundings the way heat shimmers in the air above hot pavement. Something—fate, maybe— had brought us together, in that moment, at that lake. It was too much of a coincidence to imagine otherwise. I was on the tail end of seventeen, but the knowledge of how this was meant to be was deep, as if I'd lived decades with a powerful intuition. I'd just graduated from high school, a big milestone in my life, but it was dwarfed compared to the situation
unfolding before my eyes.
Truman Miller.
The guy I'd secretly been in love with since my sophomore year was standing thigh-deep in the water, throwing a football to his best friend, Leo. The thick muscles of his arms and chest flexed with mouth-watering regularity. Tanned skin, slick with sweat and lake water, rippled over a body built for crushing things, and all of it was paired with the kind of charm that could get a crowd roaring. If it were ancient Rome, he'd have been a gladiator.
I sat on my towel and tried not to squirm.
Damn. Once you graduated, weren't high school crushes supposed to fade into a distant, if not pleasant, memory? In a couple of months I'd be a freshman in college. Surely hot guys would be available there, too. Maybe one of them would even show some interest. I looked down at the way my breasts filled the cups of my bathing suit, a feat they hadn't been able to accomplish until about a year ago. Yes, I was all too aware of what had developed during my senior year. Too bad Truman hadn't been around to see it.
He'd graduated by the time my body had decided it was okay to start the transition from awkward teen to woman. Throughout high school he'd been charisma personified. I was insecurity disguised as disinterest. A guy like Truman Miller never went for girls like me. As graduates, we should've been beyond all of that, but as I watched in from my spot on the side of the lake, the social rankings of high school felt as inflexible as ever.
I needed to give up and forget about him. My body didn't know this. As the water glistened off of his chest, I lost the battle and squirmed.
"Christ, it's hot."
I jumped at the sound of Amy's voice. I'd almost forgotten she was sitting next to me. She blew out a long breath as she lounged on her towel. Her red bikini did double duty, both in emphasizing the golden plethora of freckles covering her skin and displaying her hourglass figure. Her impossibly long legs were bent at the knee, one slung over the other, as she propped herself up on her elbows, her face tilted toward the sun. With her long, naturally wavy caramel hair, she was the epitome of teenage summer perfection.
My eyes stayed glued to Truman. "Shit, yeah. He's hot."
She snickered, knocking one shoulder into mine and throwing me off balance before I'd realized my mistake. I could've been embarrassed, but I laughed instead. It would've been a fruitless effort to try and hide my interest from the person who knew me better than anyone else.
Amy's sigh of longing pulled my attention to her. She shook her head with regret, as if to say to a piece of cake, "I'm sorry, I can't. I'm on a diet." I smirked, knowing she understood. It was best friend code of the highest importance, if you had any decency at all. As the object of my interest, Truman was off limits to her and would always be.
"Why is he so hot?" I turned to look at him again, shaking my head. "I mean, he's only a guy. A really, really beautiful guy, but what is it about him that's so...riveting?"
Amy sat up, staring as he and Leo continued to toss the football back and forth, oblivious to our attention. "I dunno. He's friendly. Dude has zero enemies, despite the fact he's kicked more than his fair share of douchebag ass." She shrugged. "He's a legend."
I looped my forearms over my knees. "That's the thing. Like, what is he actually good at? He didn't play sports, he wasn't valedictorian or class president. He's not into any particular club or some kind of genius headed for an Ivy League school. If you think about it, there's nothing special about him. Yet I want to rub myself all over him, like he's a giant, chocolate-scented, scratch 'n sniff sticker."
Amy laughed, finally drawing the attention and dual grins of the guys. Then, she pursed her lips in concentration as she considered the conundrum. "Well, he's unbelievably sexy. I mean, look at him. Have you ever seen a more perfect subject of teenage masturbation fantasies?" She gestured up and down as we both watched him move and sighed in unison. "He's in a band. You don't even need to be cute to get laid if you're in a band. And Truman Miller is ridiculous."
I nodded while my eyes continued to soak in every detail of him, committing it to memory because, let's face it, I wasn't likely to see him half-naked again anytime soon.
"Leo, Jesus, my grandma can throw a better spiral." Amy's playful teasing was followed by a full body flinch not two seconds later when a wet football came sailing past our heads, with neither of us able to do more than swat it away like a huge bee.
"Damn! I didn't know you had such good aim. Or was that an accident?" She grinned as she stood and grabbed the ball from where it had settled at the bank of the water.
"Toss it back and you'll find out." Leo's rich baritone, unnatural for someone only eighteen years old and totally working for him with every girl he set his sights on, made me grin. Amy's toss back was more like a well-aimed missile. She splashed her way into the water toward him, her shrieks of laughter echoing around the lake as Leo made her his new target.
I watched them with amusement, but not for long before my eyes again found Truman. With one short-lived relationship under my belt, admittedly, I wasn't very experienced. But every molecule of estrogen in my body reacted to the difference between him and other guys. Everyone seemed to be drawn to him; girls for one set of reasons, guys for another.
The water shimmered around him, lapping at his muscular legs like so many puppies eager for attention. His hair was golden, nearly the same tone as his skin, cut in a classic crew with several inches of length at the top. At the moment it was spiked, the ends mussed and pointing in different directions, damp from running his hand through it.
He was nineteen, but his body was a man's, starting with the smattering of hair between perfectly defined pecs. The dark line of it narrowed further down, dividing a ridged six-pack as it led straight to the waist of his swim trunks, tugged low to display the beautiful 'V' shape of his hips.
As Amy and Leo splashed and laughed a few feet away from him, Tru stood facing me, a brilliant smile plastered on his face. I gasped when I realized he'd caught me staring. Apprehension filled me, prickly across my skin, as if I were about to get on a carnival ride run by the sketchiest of carnies. You could never know for sure if you'd survive, but you knew you'd have fun.
His eyes were the color of dark chocolate, a startling shade that could never be called boring, as many seem wont to do when describing brown eyes. Leo was the one with blue eyes, but not nearly the charisma. Nothing was as it should've been when it came to Truman.
The spell was broken when he took a hit to the stomach with the ball, doubling over as he laughed, catching his breath. Pandemonium broke out a second later when he rushed Leo in a dive that took them both under water, the football forgotten amongst the waves and gurgling. I sat up, taking advantage of the opportunity to admire the sinewy flex of wet muscles for the umpteenth time.
When he rose out of the water, his eyes came immediately back to mine. My body ignited, the feeling unsettling but alluring. I wanted more. I wanted to know if that feeling meant there was potential for a lifetime of the kind of perfect I was experiencing.
Tru walked up the bank and plopped down next to me. I shivered as cold drops of water hit my skin, a relief so welcome I suppressed a moan, resisting the urge to press against him for more. I was sweltering in the heat, my long, curly blonde hair piled on my head in a messy ponytail because I was not one of those girls who looked great after splashing around in the water. My hair took work, and I had labored over it for half an hour to get it to look like I hadn't put any effort into it at all.
I wanted in the lake so badly, but to get there meant I'd have to stand, then walk, exposing a body I was not accustomed to displaying—definitely not used to doing it in front of a guy I worshipped—while wearing a bikini. One slip in the mud, a stumble over an algae-coated rock, and I'd face-plant in the water, ruining my hair and making it impossible for me to look Truman in the eye ever again. This was on top of the idea of those eyes on me as I tiptoed my curvy ass to the water's edge. I was screwed either way; to rush would mean certain humiliation. I was too clumsy
for any other outcome. To walk slowly and allow him to get a good, long look at me was a vulnerability equally terrifying. The fifteen feet between the safety of my towel and the water were fraught with potentially life-ending embarrassment opportunities.
I wanted no part of it.
So I settled for mooching little droplets of water and trying not to pant like a dog in heat as I sat next to him. Leo and Amy emerged from the water, laughing and elbowing each other like siblings before they plopped down on their towels across from us.
"Lee, you going to that party later?" Truman's arms wrapped loosely around his legs in such a way it meant his elbow and bicep brushed against my arm. It was all I could do to keep myself breathing. The excitement of being near him, his body against mine conjuring images of a different skin-to-skin contact, made me mute.
"At Tommy's? Yeah, man. You think you can score us some beer?" Leo's deep voice made him sound old enough to buy booze, but his round, boyishly innocent face worked in direct contrast to that. He couldn't have scored unless it were legal to buy alcohol over the phone. Truman, on the other hand, had the swagger needed to pull it off.
"Probably." Truman shrugged. "Though I can't get much since I'm on my bike."
Amy's eyes lit up. "I heard you got a motorcycle. I want a ride! Do you have an extra helmet?"
"Not with me, darlin'. But next time we're all out together, I'll make sure to bring it." I'd relaxed a little when his attention was diverted, but tensed again when he turned to me. "Maybe you'd like a ride, too."
It wasn't a question, and I wasn't sure we were talking about a bike anymore, but my answer was the same in either case.
"Yeah, sure." I had to look away. He was too beautiful, and I knew my face was too readable. My mumbled acceptance and inability to converse was sure to be interpreted as total disinterest, but Truman chuckled, leaning against me for a moment in silent support. After that, I allowed myself a longer look, admiring his profile as he joked with Leo and Amy. It was almost as though I'd told him what I really wanted to say. Hell yeah, I'd love to ride with you. I think I just peed a little thinking about it.
I Fell In: A mostly true story about lust, redemption, and true love. Page 2
