His hand clung to mine. “Don’t say her name. Let’s ask each other easier questions. What’s your favorite food?”
I stared at our hands, studying how he had a slightly darker skin tone. I was rather pale, so that wasn’t difficult, but he had a bit of olive to his fair complexion. Probably from hours of playing soccer in the sun. His nails were clean, but chipped, and his hands were twice as large as mine. Even holding on with both, I needed all my fingers to cradle his. “Lasagna. What’s yours?”
He wanted to ease away from our emotions. I could do that. It didn’t mean we wouldn’t feel them.
“It’s been a long time since I cared enough to have a favorite anything. But if I had to choose, I’d go with pancakes.”
“Let’s have them for lunch.”
He smiled a little at the road. “Sure, Es.” He tapped his fingers on his steering wheel, and then blurted out his next question. “You said that your old man took you out of school after that incident, but that you met your ex freshmen year. How’d you finagle that?”
My lips rose as I recalled meeting Jason for the first time. “Jason was new in town. His dad worked with mine. Dad invited them over for dinner and the second our eyes met I just knew we were supposed to be together. Eventually, I convinced my dad to let me back into school.”
“But you were wrong,” he said, an acerbic edge to his voice. “About him.”
“Was I?”
“Yeah, you’re not together anymore.”
“I was right for four years.”
“Or, he was a fourteen-year-old boy who had no friends in town and met a pretty girl who was bossy, and thought he’d go for it.”
“I am not bossy!”
“Like hell you’re not.” He snorted. “You’re cute as hell doing it, so you think you can get away with it. Not anymore, woman.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, loser. My turn to ask a question. Was Sabrina your first?”
“Yes,” he answered fast and simply. “Was Jason?”
“Yes. It was surprisingly good for two awkward fifteen-year-olds. Didn’t hurt. Wasn’t over too soon. He told me he loved me.”
An uncomfortable laugh bubbled from his lips. “Poor Sab. It wasn’t good for us. Like it was, you know? Because we loved each other, but it wasn’t, either. It hurt her like hell. It was awkward. I lasted too long because I was afraid I wouldn’t, so I jacked off before we had sex. Horrible idea. An hour of crying and moaning. I loved her, though, so I like to think that’s why she didn’t run away screaming.”
My mouth was hanging open. “That sounds terrible.”
Our eyes met and we both cracked, laughing.
“It was. We were fourteen. We didn’t have sex again until her sixteenth birthday.” A slow, sexy grin spread across his face. “I made up for it.”
Part of me was happy he’d made good, but another part of me was unreasonably jealous of that grin. It wasn’t tortured, like the ones he gave me. He hadn’t felt guilty for smiling then. Now he did. “Your turn.”
“Would you rather?”
I frowned. “This again?”
“I give you two choices. You have to pick. No matter what. If you choose not to answer, you have to… take off a piece of clothing.”
“Those are the rules?”
He gave me a serious face. “Yep.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him, but any chance to get him naked wasn’t one I was going to overlook. “Okay, let’s play. You start.”
“Would you rather be right about me, but we end up breaking up years down the line, or would you rather be wrong about me now, and not have to suffer later?”
“What a dumb game.” By the pursed set to his lips, he obviously thought he’d stumped me. Think again. “I’d rather be right about you.”
“Even if we break up later on?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Years with you sound better than nothing at all.” I bit my bottom lip, my head facing him. When his eyes met mine, I didn’t hold anything back.
He glared, whipping his head on the road. “Don’t bite your lip while you’re looking at me again, Esmaie.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll fucking bite it, too, and we’re not hooking up in a truck beside a corn field. Your turn.”
“Would you rather bite my lip, or kiss my lips?”
He groaned, making me giggle. “I want to kiss them more.” He shifted in his chair. “Here’s a good one. Would you rather go down on a girl who hasn’t showered in a month, or date a guy once a week, but you have to make out with him and his breath smells and tastes like an asshole?”
The only thing I could do was stare open-mouthed at him. “And I’m the one with the messed-up mind? That’s horrible. Aren’t they kind of the same thing? I have to put my tongue on a dirty hole.”
He chuckled. “I’m waiting.”
“I’d pick the girl.”
He busted up laughing. “Me too.”
“My turn, right?” I squared my shoulders. “Would you rather eat a hot, steaming turd fresh out of Bank’s ass, or chop off your foot with a dull butter knife?”
Silence settled in the car. “What the fuck, Esmaie?”
“Take it off, take it off!” I put my arms in the air and pumped them in tune to my chant.
He tried to answer, opened his mouth, and then forfeited. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it at me. “No way am I picking between those answers. You’re a monster.” He cleared his throat. “Would you rather get spanked or gagged?”
“Spanked. For sure.” I sighed adoringly. “You’re so hot. Would you rather get naked for me, or get naked with me?”
His smile was private. “With. Would you rather wrap those pretty lips around my cock, or have me wrap mine around your nipple?”
I crossed my legs, groaning at the roof of his truck. “I can’t wait to taste your cock, Wade.”
The truck tires started bumping as he drifted to the right, running over the rumbling strip in the road.
“Would you rather me taste you right now, or risk the chance of me never getting to taste you?”
“Nice try,” he stated, reaching down to reposition himself in his jeans.
“Your turn. Aren’t you going to ask me something?” I gazed at him hopefully.
“No. You’re not playing fair.” He glowered and then reached across the seat to grab his shirt from my hold, putting it back on. “You don’t lie, do you?”
“I have no time for lies.” I rolled the window down and hung my bare feet out of it, spotting a building in the distance. “What’s that?”
He squinted, leaning over the steering wheel. “Looks like a bar and a gas station. Still gotta pee?”
“It’s also a hotel!” I pointed to the sign showing a bed and a gas station we were coming up on. “Can we stop? I need to sleep in a bed, and I know you’ve got to be exhausted.” He’d been driving since last night.
“We’ll stop for the night. Shower. Eat, gas up, and then we’ll start heading for Oregon in the morning.”
I couldn’t imagine how beautiful it would be. The water, him, freedom—it all sounded too good to be true. And if for some reason insanity was far more rooted in my brain than I thought, and this all blew up in my face and took it all away, I had a feeling I’d never forget this road trip. Never forget the man who took me away for even a little bit.
Chapter Twelve
Wade
I couldn’t fathom a life outside of my grief.
I never thought it was possible, and frankly hadn’t looked for it—without it, Sab was gone too—but maybe combining my pain with her memory wasn’t fair. Not to her and not to me. I didn’t see a way around it, though, not now, not ever. I was in pain. She wasn’t here. That would be true regardless of how deeply that ache had buried itself in me.
I was supposed to be sleeping. It wasn’t like I wasn’t tired. Exhaustion hit me as soon as we walked into the hotel room and I saw the bed.
The hotel wasn’t half bad, albeit expensive; the last option typically was. The bar next door was also a restaurant, and there was an open green field of grass behind both properties overrun with golden tickseed flowers. The only window in the hotel room opened up to the field. I’d been staring at the flowers since Esmaie went into the bathroom.
I pushed the window open, inhaling the scent of fresh air tinged with flowers, and the faint hint of grease from the restaurant next door. It was hard to tell what was beyond the flowers. They went for miles, bleeding into the sunlight. Their petals were golden and in the middle was a deep red.
In the bathroom, I heard the shower stop. I pictured what she looked like, her naked body dripping water. Her nipples hard from the cold air. Her hair damp, water droplets dripping down the mound of her pussy. I cleared my throat and backed away from the window, tearing my shirt off and jeans, and getting into bed. I needed to sleep.
My mind was focused entirely on her. Every time she moved, every time she talked—it didn’t matter about what; I wanted to hear it—I was aware of her in a way I hadn’t been aware of anyone in a very long time. And even though it hurt me to admit it, I hadn’t even been aware of Sab this much. Could be an age thing, could be that my heart wasn’t broken then either. Whatever it was, it was screwing with me.
When the bathroom door opened, I kept my eyes shut, listening to her movements. I heard a bag zip open, rustling, a sigh, and then the bag zipped close. Something wet on something soft. The scent of strawberries washed over me. Lotion. She was rubbing lotion on her damn skin.
I cracked one eye open.
She had a towel wrapped around her body, but her long legs were exposed. One was propped on the edge of the bed as she dragged her hands up and down her legs. She rose, dragging her fingers up her thighs, pushing back the towel, and exposing a glimpse of her smooth and creamy inner thigh. I wanted to kiss there, right where they touched.
She started in on the other leg, soaking her already soft skin with more strawberry lotion. The sweet scent had my mouth watering. My lungs felt too empty. I needed to pull in a deep breath, but she’d hear me, and then she’d stop…
She grabbed a pair of panties she must’ve grabbed from her duffle bag and slipped the scrap of angel white fabric up those legs and shimmied them all the way up her thighs, giving me a short glimpse of her cherry-shaped ass before the towel dropped back in place, leaving me with a cock so hard it hurt, and a mouth so dry I wanted to give it what it wanted. Her.
The damp, honey blonde strands of her hair hung down her back. When she reached for her bra and froze, I shut my eye so fast I could almost pretend I hadn’t seen her. When I cracked it back open, her towel was gone.
My eyes fluttered into the back of my head. She was fucking temptation. Every inch of her body begged to be touched as she fastened her bra behind her back and pulled the straps in place. It matched her low-rise panties. She had back dimples. Fucking damn it. I didn’t know if I wanted to come on them more, or to slide my tongue over them.
She put on a pair of gray cotton shorts and followed it with a white tank top. I closed my eyes a second before I felt the bed move, and then she assaulted me with the scent of strawberries and the heat of her just washed skin.
“Wade?” she whispered, in her sweet voice.
“Shh,” I griped. “Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?”
“Really? Because it looks like you’re trying to pretend to sleep more.”
I smiled without opening my eyes. “What is it, Esmaie?”
She snuggled closer. “Can we sleep together?”
I opened my eyes to find hers peering up at me, vulnerable need trapped in them. I’d never tell her no, especially since I was fairly certain the only reason I couldn’t sleep was because she wasn’t nearby. I’d gone to sleep every night knowing she was either across the hall for months, or in my arms when we got to Bank’s place; it felt unnatural to reach for my dreams without her close.
I opened my arms. She ducked under and rested her cheek on my chest, letting out a long, deeply satisfied moan that went straight to my already hard cock. I buried my nose in her hair, inhaling her sweet scent until I passed out. When I woke up, the window curtain was still pulled back, and harsh sunlight shone right onto my face.
I sat up, glaring as I looked around the hotel room. I slept all night and well into the morning.
Esmaie wasn’t in bed beside me, and there were no sounds coming from the open bathroom door. I sagged back down, hating how much I hated being alone. I hopped in the shower and was buckling my jeans when the door opened, and my dumb fucking heart took a deep breath when we saw her.
She paused, her eyes zeroing in on my body. I wondered if she was aware how often she did that. How deeply her eyes ate me as she studied every inch of my torso. I took my time putting on my shirt, hiding my chuckle when she snapped back to attention.
“What’s in there?” I asked, nodding at the bag in her hand. It was small, the kind you walked out of a jewelry store with.
“Oh. I got you something.” She dug in the bag, but before she pulled it out, a faint blush crept into her cheeks. “Promise not to laugh?”
I raised my hand in compliance. “Promise.”
She pulled out a contraption. It had nets and feathers, corded around a blew spherical object. She grabbed the tie at the top and dangled it in the air, letting it hang fully.
“You got me a dreamcatcher?”
“Yes.”
“Why, Es?” I touched one of the pristine white feathers fluttering at the bottom.
“To help with your nightmares.” She extended it between us. “You don’t like it?”
I bypassed the dreamcatcher. I slid my hands over her face and clutched her in my grip. “I love it. Thank you.” I lowered my mouth onto hers before she could reply. It was one of the nicest things anyone had done for me. My nightmares were far too large for that little dreamcatcher, but the fact that she’d even attempted to brave them for me was so profoundly beautiful I wanted to keep her forever.
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, kissing me back; the dreamcatcher feathers brushed my back as we kissed deep and hard. I couldn’t get enough, didn’t want to. I backed us up until we met the bed and toppled over; I landed on top of her, trying to swallow her tongue, devour her sugary sweet soul. I couldn’t stop again. I knew she wouldn’t stop me. I could feel the want in her body, the way her fingertips dug into my back, the way her tongue had no problem keeping up with mine—she wanted me as badly as I wanted her.
I couldn’t believe that she may have been right.
I couldn’t imagine having this now and not having this tomorrow. That was insane. How could she possibly know that we could work just by looking at me? Maybe she wasn’t human. A fairy princess with a great ass.
Before I could come to grips with my emotions—they were turning over on themselves—I already had her shirt off and my face was buried between her cleavage. She still had the same bra on, which meant she had the same white low-rise panties on, too. I groaned, biting at the swell of her breast. She arched in my hold, her chest rising and falling rapidly from her heavy breathing.
I loved being able to affect her. It felt good to have someone around me who genuinely cared again. I moaned, grabbing the cups of her bra. I met her heavy-lidded eyes, and then I ripped her bra off. The fabric tore down the middle and came away, revealing her perfect tits.
She gasped, twisting in the sheets.
I lowered my head and sucked one of her nipples into my mouth. With my other hand, I palmed her, pinching her nipple as I sucked heavily on her other. Beneath me, she moaned. The kind of moan I had no choice but to feel too. My cock felt like it would explode, it was so hard. I moved on to her other breasts. Her fingers plunged in my hair, tugging, twisting, tangling around me. She urged her lower half upward, humping my waist.
“You want to come, my little dreamer?”
She whimpered.
I kissed lower, s
liding my tongue along her taut belly until I got to the waistband on her jeans. I grappled with the brass button and zipper, unable to tear them, but getting rid of them just as fast. I rose onto my knees to pull the denim from her legs. The moment I looked down, I saw the wet spot on her panties. The see-through patch of material called to the uncivilized, brutal bastard in me.
I growled, dropping between her thighs to lower my tongue right on her wet spot. Her taste spread across my tongue, changing my taste buds forever. I never wanted to taste anything else again. Or anyone else. My brain clouded over with lust so intense it throbbed on the edge of my gaze. I lost all reason. All control.
I believed her. I wanted her. I needed her.
I grabbed the waistband on her panties and tore them off with one fist, lobbing them to the side and out of my way. Her pussy was glistening with her need. Pink, shining, and wet. I could hear her moaning over the roaring of my pulse but couldn’t focus on much else. I needed to taste her unhindered. It was my only focus. I sent two fingers over her slit, making her jerk. I gently urged her lips apart to reveal her bare pussy. It was the same color as her nipples. A pink that could not me matched. Her clit glistened like a beacon. I homed in on it, unable to focus on anything else as I lapped my tongue over it.
She screamed, and it broke off in the middle, her pleasure too strong for her throat. The strangled cry turned me on even more. I wrapped my lips around her clit and sucked, circling it with my tongue. I wanted to take her voice, make it so she came so hard she lost it for days. Her body trembled and shook; sweat broke out on her lower abdomen and her thighs tried to clamp down on me.
I spread them apart in the bed, baring her to me as I sucked and licked her sweet fucking clit. When she was pliant—her body lay unmoving, her hair splayed on the pillows, her fingers barely able to grip my hair—I inserted two fingers into her soaked entrance, working myself into her. She got a second wind, turning into an angel. Arms spread, pleasure radiating from her body. Her eyes couldn’t open. Her voice was raw as she moaned my name, again and again, until the idea of her ever moaning anyone else’s sent a wave of jealous rage over me, making me eat and finger her pussy even harder.
The Jock and the Dreamer Page 10
