Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1)

by L. M. Carr

  “Is he your boyfriend or something?”

  There’s no doubt that he’s referring to Simon, especially after finding me on his lap and his less than friendly greeting.

  “God no,” I state firmly. “We’re just friends. He’s like a brother to me.”

  He simply nods.

  “And besides it would be wrong of me to text you like crazy if I had a boyfriend, don’t you think?” My eyes round like saucers and my eyebrows rise up in question.

  “I would hope so.”

  “Shane, I’m…”

  “What?” he asks abruptly and looks down at me.

  “Nothing.” I shake my head and smile. “Let’s take a walk,” I pull him by the arm and guide him further down Tremont. With a quick gaze over my shoulder, I make sure that we’re alone.

  Time slips by as we stroll along the streets of Boston, talking about nothing and everything at the same time, until an empty bench outside the park entrance beckons our weary legs to rest. It’s incredible how comfortable I feel around him. It’s nice to be just me.

  “I love being in this city and yet finding some peace and quiet.” I stretch my arms back behind my head, letting my eyes drift closed. I inhale and exhale quietly and reopen my eyes when I feel the weight of his stare. “What?” I ask, noticing that he’s mirrored my position even down the legs crossed at the ankles.

  “You broke the rules of the game.”

  I huff. “Fine. I like being in this city and yet finding some peace and quiet, even though I love both.”

  We sit quietly for some time until I declare it to be his turn.

  He lifts a hand and caresses my cheek with his knuckles before tucking a short piece of hair behind my ear. “I like you.”

  My eyes close at his words and then slowly reopen to meet his heavy gaze. Three little words. Those three simple little words send butterflies dancing in my belly and have my mouth opening to repeat the words back to him.

  Again he caresses my face then takes my chin in his hand, drawing me in. Time stands still, every moment in slow motion. My eyelids become heavy and close when I sense his lips inch closer. Those butterflies in my belly take flight once again. The anticipation causes me to breathe raggedly.

  “Shane,” I sigh. Silently I beg him to kiss him.

  As if he has all the time in the world, Shane grazes my lips with his own, gliding back and forth gently, invitingly. I sigh when he finally presses his mouth against mine, offering a closed kiss; letting our lips be introduced for the first time. Our mouths move effortlessly, succinctly, as our tongues slip through and make their acquaintance. I can feel his breath hitch as he angles his head to plunge his tongue deeper into my mouth. His hands cup my face as if he’s extracting every ounce, every fiber of my soul. My body reacts immediately as my hands tug at his hair, pulling him closer.

  With strong hands, he lifts me and spreads my legs spread wide to straddle his thighs, never losing the intimate contact. His hand slips beneath the thin material of my tank top and rubs against the bare skin of my back. Heat follows his fingers. Unashamedly, I moan into his mouth and drag my fingers along his neck when I feel his stiffness at my core. Kissing this man is more than just kissing; it’s as though I’m surrendering myself completely. This connection between us is undeniably intense. It’s surreal, but most of all, it’s ours.

  The small hand on the clock of life begins to move again when the sound of someone yelling, telling us to get a room snaps me back to reality. Immediately, I realize how bad this must look. I’m straddled on this man’s lap practically dry humping him on a sidewalk bench. I feel as though I should be embarrassed by my reaction to his kiss, but his ragged breathing tells me he feels it too. With my eyes still closed, I pull my lips from his as my hands wrap around the nape of his neck and I tilt his head upward. I open my eyes to see the smile on his face matches the one in his eyes.

  Once again, I lower my mouth and kiss his lips slowly, offering a final kiss.

  I whisper, “I like kissing you.”

  Shane grins at me. “I love kissing you.”

  “Rule breaker.”

  I wrap my arms around him and return the embrace. I feel his heart beating against my chest. It’s wild and frenzied. His arms are tight around my body and I love the way it feels.

  Shane tilts his head back and looks up at the night sky. My phone vibrates and I loosen my hold when I reach around to retrieve it from my back pocket. As soon as I look at the screen and see all the missed texts, the warm temperature of the late summer air turns into ice when he lowers his head and looks at me with a confused expression.

  “I thought you said your phone died.” His words have a sharp bite and a hint of accusation again as his finger freezes along the trail he had, moments before, been tracing on my thigh.

  I panic…and scramble for some words, trying to cover my obvious lie. It doesn’t work. He sees right through it. He wraps his hands around my waist and moves me to sit beside him. He stands, notes the time and says it’s late. Even though he’s walked away to hail a cab and he’s not gone very far, he might as well be in freaking Alaska.

  The heat between us just moments earlier has frozen solid. We’re skidding on thin ice as the chill between us becomes remarkably clear. It makes me a little sad, leaving my heart to ache. I hang my head in shame and shoot Simon and Jenna a quick text letting them know that I’m heading home.

  I feel horrible for lying to him about my phone. I just should’ve told him where I was or been honest with him. Silently, I stand next to him while he waits for a cab. From the corner of my eye, I can see him ball his hands in tight fists, curling and slowly flexing.

  “I’m sorry—” We speak at the same time.

  “Listen, if you don’t want to go to dinner, it’s fine. Not a big deal.” He shrugs and then turns, pinning me with searching blue eyes that reveal a hint of distrust and vulnerability.

  My heart drops at the thought of not seeing him tomorrow. Of not spending time with him. “Shane,” I touch his bicep and pull back when I feel a current flow from the tips of my fingers to my painted toenails. “I do want to go to dinner with you.”

  “If you didn’t want to see me tonight, you could’ve just said so. You didn’t have to lie.”

  “That’s not it,” I shake my head from side to side, my eyes blinking rapidly to ward off the tears that threaten to fall. I’m not a crier; never have been, never will be. I learned early on in life that crying makes noise and noise gets you found.

  “What is it then?” he implores. His tall body is defensive.

  “Well, every Friday night…it’s complicated.”

  He snickers quietly with a tone laced with heavy sarcasm, “That’s what they all say.”

  I wish I can say that the cab ride to the subway isn’t riddled with tension, but I’d be lying. I see the disappointment written clear as day all over his face and his indifferent response of “It’s all good or It’s cool” annoys me. On three separate occasions, the words almost slip out. I should be honest about why I lied, but I can’t do it. He, like most people, wouldn’t understand. Hell, some days, I don’t understand. I think about canceling our plans for dinner because he seems like a really good guy who doesn’t need to get caught up in my shit. But, like a coward, I stand before him, desperately wanting to kiss him again, but instead, I keep my mouth shut and simply thank him for the ride with a promise to call him tomorrow. I stare after him, hoping that he’ll come back and kiss me goodbye, but he doesn’t even glance in my direction.

  I lie awake, wishing I could hit a rewind button and go back to my night with Shane. I smile, remembering all the things I like about him. His face. Those eyes. Those lips. His arms. His hands. I squirm just wondering what he can do with those fingers. Just before I drift off to sleep, I ask God for a favor. “Please don’t let me screw this up.”

  Shane

  IT’S NOT THE bright sun pouring into my room that wakes me up; it’s the sounds of panting and grunting com
ing from the living room. The bedroom door creaks when I open it to see what’s going on. I do a double take and quickly shut the door when I see a pair of small tits bouncing up and down as she lowers herself onto his body. Collin’s prosthetic leg is on the floor next to their clothes. Her long brown hair swings from side to side as she moans louder, begging him to give it to her harder.

  Collin has been in the city for just a week or so and he’s already got some chick spreading her legs for him. Maybe it’s because he’s a normal guy or maybe it’s Boston; either way, he’s having no problem getting these girls to have sex with him. I could easily get pussy if I wanted, but that’s the thing. I don’t want to fuck some random girl and have to sneak out in the morning or face that awkward conversation about whether I want her number or not. I did that for a while last year. I wasn’t trying to be a dick; I just didn’t want to think about her for a little while. She never gave me the chance to prove that I was sorry for that one stupid night and I know she thought I was a douche bag, so… fuck it. I went ahead and proved her right. And I’ve felt like shit every day since then.

  I don’t know why the brunette chick’s tits make me think of Remy’s. There’s no denying that Remy has got way more than a mouthful just by the way they strain against her Polo shirt or the tank top she had on last night. I imagine pulling them from her bra, licking and sucking on her sweet nipples. I feel myself harden just thinking about her. Then anger shoots through me as I think about that douche bag Simon doing that to her or kissing her. It’s obvious they’re more than friends. I grit my teeth and wonder why she would lie to me about it. Feeling frustrated and pissed, I head into the bathroom to change quickly, knowing that a good hard run is what I need. My apartment is small even though I’m paying an arm and a leg for it. The only way to the door is through the tiny living room. I keep my head down and rush out when the long-haired chick collapses on top of Collin’s chest. Just as I close the door behind me, I hear her ask if they can do it again.

  Against the old brick building, I stretch my arms and legs. When I reach into my pocket to set my running app, I realize that I left my phone and wallet in the bathroom. Shit! Even though I want to run up and get it, I don’t need to catch another glimpse of my buddy going in for round two or even three.

  I ROUND THE corner of Boston Public Gardens and steady my pace until I’m walking in a circle to cool down. It’s scorching out; it reminds me of the long days during my deployment overseas. My mouth is parched and sweat pours down my face, drenching my T-shirt. I search around for a water fountain because I don’t even have a single dollar to buy a bottle of water from the street vendor. I can’t exactly give him a sob story that I’ll pay him tomorrow. My eyes scan the pond that looks like an oasis right about now; if it were a river, I’d have no problem scooping up some water to drink, but this pond is dirty and probably full of bird shit. I survived two deployments in third world countries, I’m not about to die from Ecoli on American soil.

  “You look hot,” a familiar voice calls out. Remy smiles and walks over to me as I continue cooling down. My eyes have a mind of their own because instead of looking at her eyes, they fall to her plump tits all snug in a yellow tank top that almost matches her hair. The color reminds me the lemon drops I used to love as kid. My sister used to hide them from me until I promised to do her chores as well as mine.

  With a quick clearing of her throat, I force my eyes to look up and meet her green gaze. She looks beautiful and radiant. The green in her eyes is almost indescribable. It’s a cross between a fern and an emerald. I want to refrain from my body from responding to hers as a stupid crooked smile stretches across my face. The memory of last night is still too fresh in my mind.

  “Hey,” I respond flatly. If my tone doesn’t indicate that I’m still a little pissed off about last night, my cold greeting does. She fucking lied right to my face.

  “It’s a little too hot for a run, don’t you think?” She eyeballs my sweaty body as her bottom lip pulls in. “Here.”

  “I’m good,” I raise my hand to reject the water bottle she’s offering. I know if I put my lips where hers were, my dick is going to spring to life and the thin material won’t hide my stiffness.

  “Shane. Take a sip. You can waterfall if you want.” She demonstrates how to waterfall as if I didn’t know. As her head tips back, her mouth opens, and she pours water right in and onto her pink tongue —the tongue I tasted last night—the tongue I crave right now. The unexpected image of her mouth around my dick fills my mind. Fuck me! There I go. Stiff as a board.

  I exhale a deep breath and relent. I walk around her, take a seat on the bench and look at the book that’s turned face down. I don’t see her laptop or papers. I cross my leg, resting my left ankle on my right knee. I know she’s staring at me; I can feel it. Half a second later, she’s sitting by my side, offering the bottle of water again. This time, I accept it, press my lips to the rim and take a swift drink.

  A quiet moan escapes her lips as I take another sip before handing it back with a quick “Thanks.”

  She nods and then takes a sip of water.

  Watching her lips on the bottle isn’t helping my erection. I look down at her thigh that’s touching mine and wish I could place my hands back where they were last night and continue the trail led by my fingers. Shit! Get it together, man!

  I force my eyes to turn away as I change the subject. “Did you work this morning?”

  She snorts loudly, causing my eyes to drift to hers just in time to catch the nodding of her head in confirmation and the pursing of her lips. “It’s was so busy and Jenna called out sick.” Her eyes roll upward as she sighs exasperatedly.

  “She’s sick?” I inquire.

  A grunt escapes. “No, she’s not sick. She went home with your buddy last night. What’s his name? Connor?”

  I can’t believe him. Of all the women in Boston, he has to sleep with Remy’s friend. “That was Jenna this morning on top of Collin?” I shriek, my voice dripping with disbelief.

  “You saw her?”

  “Oh yeah, I saw her.” I shake my head and scrub my face, scratching my day old scruff.

  “I hope she was careful.” Remy looks out toward the pond as concern dots her face.

  I want to erase the look of worry on her face and replace it with a smile. “Hey, she’s okay. Collin’s a good guy. I promise.” I want to pull her into my chest for reassurance.

  She looks down at the water bottle in her hand, lifts it and takes a sip. “I hope so. There aren’t too many of those guys around here.”

  Part of me wants to scoop her up, lay in her in the grass and kiss her senseless to prove that good guys do exist, but I’m not sure she’d really appreciate that. She seems like a girl who doesn’t know what she wants.

  I pick up the book she’s reading and ask her about it. She tells me it’s one of her favorites. From the looks of the dog-eared edges and tattered cover, it’s been read well over a hundred times.

  The vibration of her phone buzzes against the bench. She raises her hips to retrieve the phone and smiles when she reads the incoming text. “Speak of the devil.” I watch as she taps a response to Jenna.

  “Are we still on for tonight?” she asks quietly.

  “Do you still want to go out tonight?” I ask tentatively because honestly after last night, I’m not really sure.

  She nods distractedly and says, “Yes.” She then looks at me with what can only be described as apologetic eyes. “Shane—”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! I’m absolutely positive.”

  “Okay,” I nod my head. “What do you want to do after dinner?” I ask, pulling her away from her private thoughts.

  “I’m not sure. We could go to a movie, I guess.” Her petite shoulders shrug. She laughs as she asks if that’s what most people do after dinner.

  “You sound like you’ve never been on a date,” I snicker.

  “No comment.”

  I raise my eyebrows
in challenge. “So you really want to go to a movie?”

  The last thing I want to do is sit quietly in a dark theater. I want to talk to her and get to know her better. Maybe I’ll be able to understand the mixed messages she’s sending my way.

  My stomach growls loudly and I laugh when her eyebrows rise up.

  “Hungry?”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Why do you do that?” her usually sweet voice snaps at me.

  “What did I do?” I respond quickly, sounding defensive.

  “You keep saying ‘I’m good or I’m fine,’” she air quotes, “when it’s obvious that you’re not.” She huffs with annoyance. “You were mad last night. You were thirsty before and now you’re hungry.”

  “Listen, I skipped breakfast. It’s not like I’m going to die. Go six days in the desert sharing a few MREs with a couple of barely legal soldiers who are used to eating their mothers out of house and home; then we can talk about being hungry.”

  “I just don’t get why guys aren’t forthright. Just say what’s on your mind. You don’t have to lie about it.”

  I tip my chin toward her phone and ask if her phone is charged today.

  I can tell I’ve made her slightly uncomfortable by the way she shifts nervously in her seat and avoids looking at me. But let’s be real, if she’s going to talk the talk, then she damn well better walk the walk.

  “I am sorry about that. I’ve just got some things going on right now.” She hangs her head after checking the time on her phone. “I gotta go.”

  I stand when she does and wonder where she’s going. As if she could read my mind, she tells me that she’s going to meet her advisor. She tosses her book and water bottle into the backpack and secures it in place before she mounts her bike. I carefully inspect the bike that looks like it should’ve been junked years ago.

  “Is this thing going to make it home?”

  “Are you making fun of my bike? That is so wrong!” she chuckles, starting to pedal away before circling back around to me, stopping short of hitting me. I grab the handle bars and hold her in place. Pools of emerald green stare at me as I stare at her. My gaze drops to her mouth as the thought of kissing her again becomes increasingly tempting; I crave another taste. Her tongue peeks through a small opening of her mouth and she licks her lips. Keeping my eyes focused on hers, I move in slowly, closing the gap between us and I brush my lips along the side of her mouth and onto her cheek before stopping at her ear, “I’ll see you at seven.” If I were keeping score, I’d say her needy moan would be at least five points in my favor.