The Time of Aspen Falls

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “You don’t trust me,” he whispered against her mouth. “Either that or you’re afraid of me,” he added as he pulled his mouth further from hers.

  He was going to stop kissing her! The thought caused an odd sort of panic to rise in her chest. Aspen’s mouth watered—craving his kiss—and she swallowed the excess moisture. He couldn’t stop kissing her! Not yet!

  She stammered, “W-well, you are a-a vampire.”

  She heard a chuckle emanate in his throat, and it thrilled her. She focused her attention on his strong, rugged chin, trying not to look at his mouth. She swallowed the excess moisture in her own mouth—bit her lip to keep from taking his face in her hands and kissing him.

  “We can just go home if you—” he began.

  “No,” Aspen breathed. Abandoning any common sense left in her, she reached out, grabbing hold of the lapels of his waistcoat. Pulling herself to the tips of her toes, she kissed him—astonished by the demanding manner in which she did so.

  Rake’s arms were around her instantly, gathering her against his strong body as he began to pilot their affections once more. Aspen surrendered and relaxed against him, her arms slipping around his waist. His kiss was heated, moist, easy, and teasing one moment, driven and demanding the next—and Aspen Falls was lost!

  It seemed she couldn’t get close enough to him—couldn’t satisfy her thirst for the flavor of his kiss! His embrace lessened, though his kiss remained entirely intense. She felt the strength of his hands at her waist—moved her arms up to encircle his neck, losing her fingers in the dark softness of his hair.

  She felt him shift his weight and firmly plant his feet apart. His powerful arms were steel bands around her as he pulled her against him—kissed her with such a demanding determination and ferocity as to take her breath away. She didn’t even wince when she felt the sharp tip of one of his fangs catch her lip once.

  He broke the seal of their lips, breathing, “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” she whispered. She wouldn’t have cared if his fang had cut her lip and made it bleed; she still wouldn’t have wanted him to stop kissing her. What was wrong with her? She’d never let a man kiss her like this before. She’d never kissed a man back like this before! Her body felt weak and strong at the same time—hot and tingling.

  His mouth hovered a breath from hers as he smiled.

  “Man!” he exclaimed under his breath. “What broke down your defenses—the outfit or the fangs?”

  Aspen giggled as she stared at his mouth and moistened her lips.

  “I think…just you,” she admitted, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks.

  She cradled his strong chin in her hand a moment, letting her fingers feel the straight angle of his jaw—reveled in the sense of his five-o’clock shadow against her palm. She held her breath, overcome with physical attraction as she let her thumb brush over his lips. Rake’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her, his handsome brow furrowing in a deep frown. She could feel the rhythm of his breathing increase.

  Suddenly, he gripped her wrist in one powerful hand, and she heard him swear under his breath. Straightening her arm, he kissed the bend of it fiercely—kissed the tender, sensitive flesh there before letting his face caress the underside of her arm as it traveled up toward the gold bracelet of her bicep. He placed lingering, moist kisses to the underside of her arm, just below the bracelet, and the blissful sensation caused her to gasp—to tremble.

  He took her wrists and quickly directed her arms to encircle his neck as he drew her to him. His fingers dug almost painfully into her ribs as his mouth devoured hers. Aspen had never experienced such a physical reaction—such explosive passion. She fancied she never wanted him to stop kissing her—never! The flesh around her mouth was beginning to hurt, her sensitive skin wondrously assaulted by the whiskers around his. Still, Aspen didn’t care anything about any mild discomfort—she simply wanted to kiss Rake Locker forever!

  “W-we better go,” he breathed, breaking the melding of their mouths and placing one heated cheek against her own.

  “Okay,” she whispered with disappointment.

  “Come on,” he said. He took her hand, turned, and began leading her toward the bridge at the irrigation ditch.

  Rake stopped short. He looked back at Aspen. His eyes narrowed, ablaze with residual passion. “We better go,” he said again.

  “Yeah,” Aspen breathed, forcing an agreeing nod.

  “We better go,” he mumbled. Yet his hands went to her waist, and he forcefully pushed her back against the trunk of a nearby cottonwood. “Just one more minute,” he breathed. She could feel the heat of his breath in her mouth as he spoke—almost taste it.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  Rake took possession of her mouth, drawing moist passion from her. Aspen’s body had been alive with goose bumps from the moment she’d seen Rake walking toward her through the mist. She wondered if they would ever subside. Yet as he continued to kiss her—to weave a web of entrapment and feral fervor around her—Aspen realized she didn’t care. Let him keep her in a state of bliss forever. She didn’t care! All she wanted in those moments was what she had in those moments.

  “We gotta go,” he growled suddenly. Aspen gasped as he swooped her up in his arms and headed for the irrigation ditch bridge.

  Rake hurried, nearly desperate to reach the pickup. The thoughts shooting around in his head were nothing if not inappropriate! What the hell? he thought. The girl had completely unraveled him. He could feel the perspiration on his forehead at his hairline—struggled to calm his breathing. He’d never gone after a girl on a second date the way he’d gone after Aspen Falls. Hell, he’d never gone after a girl that way at all! She’d done something to him, though he wasn’t sure what. He wondered for a moment if maybe she were a fairy. Maybe she’d sprinkled fairy dust on him—some sort of magic passion powder.

  “That damn Peter Pan,” he growled.

  “Wh-what?” Aspen asked as he stomped across the bridge.

  He shook his head, afraid if he opened his mouth to answer her, it would just end up affixed to hers again. He had to get her to the pickup—had to get his hands on the steering wheel so they’d be too busy to go after Aspen again.

  “Y-you forgot your coat,” she stammered.

  He knew she thought he was mad at her, but he needed a moment. Marissa had always told him, “Girls don’t have a clue about guys. Good girls, anyway. They always think he’s mad at them…when maybe he’s just trying to get control of himself.”

  Rake didn’t want Aspen to think he was mad at her—not even for a moment.

  “Thanks,” he said, stopping as they reached the bridge. “Marissa would kill me if I lost that.”

  Rake let Aspen’s feet fall to the wooden planks of the bridge. Going back for his coat would give him a few moments of space between him and her. Maybe he could punch a tree trunk when she wasn’t looking and release some of his frustration.

  “Wait here,” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”

  Aspen watched Rake disappear into the mist and the darkness. The water in the irrigation ditch babbled on with a soothing rhythm, and it aided in relaxing her. She was feeling chilly now—now that Rake’s arms were no longer around her—now that his mouth was no longer heating hers.

  She buried her face in her hands for a moment.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered to herself. “You don’t even know him!” How could she be so entirely attracted to him? It was their second date. It was bad enough she’d let him kiss her after their first one, but this was scandalous! What would Gina think? Aspen shook her head. Gina would be standing on the sidelines, holding pompoms and cheering Aspen on—she knew that for sure. He seemed so angry. Yet Aspen’s brother Adam had explained men to her long ago. Chances were Rake wasn’t mad at her—just mad at himself for getting too involved too soon.

  Aspen felt panic rising in her. What if he thought she was a hoochie? What if he thought she melted as easily in any man’s arms as
she had melted in his? Rake didn’t seem the type to hanker after hoochie girls. Yet his profound good looks and physique—well, most guys like him did appear to be drawn to hoochies. Still, he didn’t seem the type. His mother didn’t seem the type who would’ve raised him to chase hoochies either. Aspen thought of the way she’d kissed him; when he’d first suggested they could go home, she’d been the one to keep it going. He must think she was a hoochie for sure! She felt sick to her stomach—nervous, worried, and entirely ill.

  She looked up to see him striding through the mist toward her, still looking like a fantasy, still causing her heart to palpitate. He held his tailcoat clenched in one hand, and Aspen noticed his knuckles were bleeding.

  “What happened?” she asked. What could’ve happened to his hand in the few moments it took him to retrieve his coat?

  “Oh,” he said, raising the hand and inspecting the bleeding knuckles as if he hadn’t known they were there until she’d mentioned it. “I…uh…I ran into a tree.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

  Aspen’s anxieties settled a bit as he smiled at her. He reached out and took her chin in one hand.

  “I’m fine,” he said. He leaned forward, kissing her softly on the lips. Aspen smiled as he placed the tailcoat around her shoulders. “But do you think I could taste you just one more time before we go?”

  Aspen put her hands to her cheeks to cool her blush. Maybe he didn’t think she was hoochie after all.

  “You’re a charmer,” she said, stepping closer to him.

  “Of course,” he said, smiling. “Aren’t all vampires charming? Isn’t that how they lull you into thinking you’re safe in their company?”

  “I suppose,” Aspen giggled. She loved the feel of his coat around her shoulders—loved the way he reached out, slipped a hand to the back of her neck, and pulled her toward him.

  Their mouths met in a harmony of instant desire, and Aspen was sure her knees had turned to pudding. There in the velvet moonlight, Aspen let herself savor this last kiss of the evening. Rake Locker—what a dream! What a total, undeniably real man.

  “Let’s go,” he said, kissing her cheek.

  “Okay,” Aspen whispered. He took her hand and led her over the wood planks he’d set over the mud on the other side of the bridge. His hand was warm and strong as he led her toward the pickup. Aspen sighed, bathing in the beauty of the perfect autumn night and the lingering sensation of having kissed the most astonishing man on the face of the earth.

  Aspen sighed with an unfamiliar sensation resembling pure satisfaction. Rake winked at her a moment before he closed the pickup’s passenger door. She smiled and tugged his tailcoat more snuggly around her shoulders. It smelled divine! Just like Rake—like masculine cologne and—and green chili! Aspen fastened her seat belt and watched Rake saunter around the front of the pickup to his own side. He climbed in and shoved a key in the ignition. The pickup roared to life.

  Reaching over, Rake unexpectedly unbuckled Aspen’s seat belt. Aspen was bewildered and felt her brow pucker.

  “Do you honestly think after that little episode back there…that I’m going to let you sit so far away?” he asked. He took hold of her arm and tugged on it—a gesture she should slide closer to him.

  Aspen giggled and moved to sit next to him. As she placed one leg on either side of the gearshift, she thought of how much she preferred older pickups to newer ones. Older ones required a middle-sitter to make allowances for the gearshift—and to snuggle closer to the driver. Goose bumps again raced over her arms when he proceeded to fasten her seat belt for her.

  “Much better,” Rake said as he revved the engine twice.

  Aspen bit her lip, delighted as his hand suddenly came to rest on her knee. He caressed her knee with his fingers and palm for a moment. It was a wonderful sensation, and when she looked up to him, he smiled—the smile of a scoundrel.

  “Oops! Sorry,” he said, sliding his hand from her knee to the gearshift. “I was trying to shift into first.”

  Aspen giggled with delight. “You are so naughty!” she said. He was too adorable—so filled with mischievous wit!

  He chuckled and shifted into first. The pickup eased forward, and he said, “Yeah, but you don’t mind too much,” he said, smiling. However, his smile quickly faded, and he looked to her, frowning, and asked, “Do you?”

  “Of course I do,” she lied, smiling and snuggling up against him.

  His smile returned, and he shifted again, pulling onto the paved part of the road.

  They were quiet as he drove—nothing but the hum of the engine and the low music on the radio. The night was still bright with stars—the lights of the west side decorating the darkness.

  Once Rake had shifted into fourth, he let his right hand rest at her knee again, steering with his left. Aspen allowed her hands to rest on his forearm, inhaling the soothing scent of him.

  She still could not believe how involved she’d let herself become—how involved in kissing him—and so soon after meeting him. It was entirely unlike her! Yet her anxiety was not so great as she expected it should be. She frowned for a moment, suddenly very aware of how good-looking Rake Locker was—how plain she must appear next to him. She glanced up at him to assure herself she wasn’t just imagining his unique good looks. He glanced down at her, revealing a dazzling, fang-enhanced smile, and she giggled.

  “You dig the vampire thing, don’t you?” he asked. “Maybe I better not take off the fangs.” He looked down at her again and added, “You might not ever let me kiss you again if I do.”

  “You can kiss me whenever you…” Aspen began. She blushed, mortified that she’d almost told him he could kiss her whenever he wanted—if he ever wanted.

  “Whenever I what?” he teased. “Whenever I wear my fangs? Or just whenever?”

  “Just whenever,” she admitted. Her cheeks were so crimson they almost hurt. She couldn’t believe her own honesty.

  “Good,” he chuckled. “I guess I’m not such a bad guy after all, huh?”

  He looked down at her, expectant of a response.

  “I guess not,” she said. She frowned then, suddenly puzzled by what he’d asked. She looked up at him—studied his five-o’clock shadow and the perfect angle of his jaw. “Did you think I thought you were a bad guy?” she asked. Secretly, she knew she had suspected him of being a jerk—still slightly expected him to turncoat and be one of those eye-candy guys—all bulk, brawn, and ego.

  He smiled. “Yep.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Lots of reasons. I mean…I like to get all torn up at the rodeo…like to jog and lift weights. I work in an old clock shop instead of some big corporate office the way I probably should…so I figured you might think I’m not very ambitious…too much of an average Joe to take any real interest in. Not to mention I probably flirt and tease a little too much.”

  Aspen smiled. Everything, absolutely everything, he’d just listed—all the things he seemed to think made him a “bad” guy—were exactly the reasons she liked him.

  “Those are all things I like about you,” she admitted. She couldn’t believe she was being so honest with him! She had a vision of herself sticking her neck out over a chopping block. It was, after all, the perfect analogy.

  He smiled. “Ah, you can say what you want, arachnophobia girl. I know you just like the fangs.”

  Aspen giggled and admitted, “I do like the fangs.”

  “I knew it,” he laughed. “Chicks dig the vampire thing…and guys just can’t figure out why.”

  “It’s a girl thing,” she told him. “You’re not supposed to be able to figure it out.”

  “I guess not,” he said.

  They rode in silence for a few moments, and then he asked, “What’s your schedule like this week coming up?”

  Aspen tried not to burst apart into a million pieces of pure rapture. Did he mean to ask her out again?

  “I work Monday through Thursday. Then Gina and I are going
to the Special Shapes Rodeo on Friday morning,” she answered.

  “Are you off Saturday?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Aspen’s heart was beating like crazy! She began to silently pray for him to ask her out.

  “Well, if you want…we could watch the mass ascension from the river. There’s this place right by my grandparents’ house where the trees thin out—you know, where the pilots try to touch down on the sandbars.”

  Aspen’s smile broadened. She loved watching the balloons with her family from her parents’ backyard, but the thought of watching them with Rake was all the more wonderful.

  “I would love that!” she exclaimed. “But I thought they didn’t let people down by the river during the balloon fiesta.”

  “They don’t….unless you live down there,” he explained. “There’s this great place down there. It’s perfect. But we can’t drive there. Are you okay riding?”

  “Riding what?” she asked, too distracted with delight to think rationally.

  He chuckled. “A horse.”

  “A horse?”

  “Yeah,” he answered. “We’ll just take a couple of my grampa’s horses down there. It’s not far. Have you ridden before?”

  “A couple of times,” she admitted. She had ridden a couple of times in her life—on trail horses.

  “Good,” he said. “It’ll be fun. You wanna go?”

  “Of course,” she answered, a little disappointed that he was already pulling into the parking lot in front of her apartment.