“I want to see you,” she calls up to me as I stand at the edge of the bed, feeling like I’m going to blow in my pants if I don’t do something fast.
I nod, pushing past my fear and pulling at my shirt. I continue lifting over my skin, over my scars, knowing that she’s seen them before, in the yard and once at the lake, but never like this, not so close, so intimate. I’m momentarily blinded as I pull my shirt over my head and half expect her to have a ghastly reaction as I throw it to the ground, but she instead bites her lower lip, her eyes still filled with what I recognize as need.
“You sure?” I ask again.
“More than sure.”
I swallow hard, then unbutton and unzip my jeans and pull them off. I’d left my shoes somewhere in the living room, so it’s just my socks that I slide off before I ease into bed next to her.
“I’m not too grotesque, am I?” I can’t help but ask, as if to make a joke out of it. I’m still wearing my boxers, still concerned about showing the last part to her.
She shakes her head again and slides her panties off. “Help me with my bra, okay?”
She turns slightly to me, and I’m shaking when I undo the clasp, but I manage, and now she’s completely naked in front of me. I pull her close, her full breasts pushed against my chest, her hard nipples burrowing into my skin. I breathe her in, wanting to be inside her so badly that it hurts.
“I’m not sure I have a condom,” I say, allowing her one last out and perhaps saving myself from future pain if we don’t work out.
It’s like she doesn’t even hear me because her arms are around my neck, and she’s kissing me again, and I’m kissing her back, getting lost in her all over. Her body rubs against mine, my hardness pushing up against her thighs and into her middle. Out of a desperate need, I yank at the elastic band of my boxers and push them down just enough so that I’m free. And then I push up and into her wetness, so tight that she cries out.
I might not be the prettiest down there, but I’m aware of my size, and when she cries out again, I hold off, swallow hard again and rest my lips at the base of her throat. “I’ll take it slow,” I tell her.
“No…” she moans. “I want all of you.” Her hands move from my hair and my neck down my back until she reaches my hips and pushes them toward her.
Not needing more direction, I push deeper into her until I’m fully entrenched. She’s crying out again, but she holds tight to me, and I pull out a little and then thrust softly back into her, again and again, losing myself in her body and our mutual pleasure. The more I sink into her, the more indescribable the feeling is, like losing one of your senses and finally finding it again.
“Ohhhhh…” I let out, the feeling of heat and yearning and pure ecstasy all intertwined as I look down on her, half disbelieving that it’s my body thrusting into a girl every guy would want.
“Tyler…” she moans out after releasing a string of short, soft cries. She’s grasping my shoulders with that look of pleasure on her face, the one I know from Laney, the one that says I’ve just made her orgasm.
I feel such pride at that and can’t keep from kissing her as our bodies shift slightly so that I land into what feels like the perfect positioning. It elicits something in her too because her eyelashes flutter and she cries out again just like she did before. The idea that I’d made her orgasm again is so fucking hot that I can’t hold back, exploding inside of her. I should pull out, but I hold myself deep and ride out the most amazing orgasm of my life.
She holds my body close to hers as I shiver and shake, like she’s my anchor, still holding me when I regain my breath, when I kiss her again and pull out, keeping one of my hands on her arm and the other on the curve of her ass—I don’t want to let her go, not ever.
She snuggles closer to me, nearly burying her head into my chest. We are both breathless, unable or unwilling to speak, and I know she’s still riding the same wave I am.
“Was that all okay?” I finally ask her once I’ve caught her eye.
“Better than okay,” she says, looking up at me, her long eyelashes half hiding her blue eyes.
“I didn’t mean to… I don’t know, do we need to get you one of those morning after pills now?”
“No… I’m actually okay. It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I’ll get condoms for next time. I just wasn’t planning on any of this.”
“I didn’t think we’d get here today either,” she says with a soft laugh. “But I’m glad we did.”
I let out a huge sigh of relief. “You must have felt it… that I’m different, right?” I look away momentarily, not sure I want to see the truth in her eyes.
“Not so different,” she says, turning my chin back to her. “And I only caught a glimpse… the feeling… it wasn’t any different. It was better actually. Not that I have a lot of experience, but it was.”
“Truthfully?” I want to believe her, but I’m not sure I can.
“Truthfully. I wouldn’t lie to you about that, but I am curious. Was what happened to you because of some kind of accident?”
This isn’t the conversation I want to have right after sex, but she deserves the truth. “You could say that.”
She places a hand on my chest. “I’d love to know.”
It’s painful and embarrassing, but I go over the most important points. I begin with the initial attack, which makes her gasp. Then I tell her about the surgeries, the grafts and the “rebuilding” efforts to make the affected parts of my body as normal as possible again. I tell her about the nicknames, the jokes and even Marissa Chandler’s fucked up comments, though I don’t tell her they were to Laney. In fact, Laney is the only thing I leave out. I just don’t want to go there quite yet, don’t want to think what sleeping with Claire means for my so-called love for Laney.
She takes it all in. She asks a few questions but mostly listens. When I’ve finished telling her everything, she says, “So, basically, something really shitty happened to you.”
“Yeah, shitty is a good word.”
“It’s probably made you more mature then… well, except for ignoring me for two weeks, but otherwise.” She smiles at me.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Not a problem.”
“And you’re sure I satisfied you?” Again, I’m pretty confident in my size, confident that I’d made her see the same stars I saw, but that apparently hadn’t been enough for Laney—she craved the kind of normalcy I’d never be.
“Yes… you did.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure, Tyler. And whatever you feel like you need to hide from me… don’t. If you’re different, I don’t mind different. I want to be a doctor—I like to face these things head on.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to be like your patient though. I’ve had enough of that in my life.”
“You’re right. I didn’t think about it that way, but I get it, and I don’t want to treat you that way either.”
“I think I might be falling for you,” I say. “Actually, I think I might love you, Claire.”
“I feel the same way,” she says, so quick and with so much force that I know it’s true.
Right then… right there… that’s all it takes. Holding her next to me, I am perfectly content.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CLAIRE
The last of my college applications sent in.
Check.
Help decorate the Christmas tree and wrap presents.
Check.
Convince Tyler he isn’t a grotesque monster.
…
“I love you,” he says, his body positioned above mine, his manhood dwelling deep inside of me.
“I love you too,” I tell him, dragging my eyes from the spot where our bodies connect, up the trail of hair to his belly button, interrupted by the scars over his abdomen. The scars are impossible not to see, but I don’t dwell on them, lifting my gaze up to his strong, muscular chest, across his broad shoulders and finall
y to his handsome face that should be filled with happiness, not worry.
“Are you sure?” He’s stopped moving, stopped the gentle thrusting of his hips that had been sending me into a place of pure pleasure.
“Of course I’m sure.” There isn’t any doubt. This is the fourth time we’ve been together since that first time. His dad is at work, his mother on a shopping trip to Spokane, he and I bundled up together after school in his room.
At my affirmation, he smiles ever so slightly and then continues on, driving himself back into me. I take hold of his strong shoulders, embracing and losing myself in him. I dream about moments like this and feel like I’m in a dream when he’s inside me, when I can grip onto his firm, hard body and feel it against my own.
His dark hair nearly falls into his eyes as he lowers his head and kisses me, then drives himself into me at just the right angle, and I’m done for. My back arches beneath his weight, and I cry out, spurring him to thrust with more force and speed until he’s fulfilled as well, letting out a few low groans before collapsing on top of me.
We lay there together, our bodies entwined, me tracing the skin of his back with my fingers, touching his scars, but not lingering on them, while he buries his face in my neck, repeating, “I love you,” just the right number of times.
When he finally pulls out from me, I turn to his body, rest my hand on his chest that is still rising and falling more rapidly than usual. Our legs are tangled, his arm around me, and I love the smell of his naked flesh.
“I’m thinking of more surgery,” he announces once his breathing returns to a regular level. “To make it look better.”
I’m confused for all of thirty seconds before I realize what he’s talking about, and then I take another thirty to consider how I’m supposed to answer that. I settle on, “I don’t think that’s necessary, Tyler.”
“Maybe not, but maybe it wouldn’t be so awful to look at.”
I sigh. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” I tell him, and I mean it. Yes, his body was brutalized as a child, and yes, it’s evident that he’s undergone reconstruction. He doesn’t look like Austin, but I couldn’t care less. He doesn’t have to look like every other guy for me to like what I see.
“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to make me feel bad,” he argues.
“I’m saying it because it’s true, but I’m not going to lie here and continue to try to convince you of something that you’re the only one that needs convincing of.”
“So, what, you think I’m being oversensitive about it or something?” He pulls his arm away from me, lifting both of them up and behind him, supporting his neck with threaded together fingers.
“I didn’t say that.” I rustle into a sitting position, covering my breasts with his sheet. “All I can do is tell you that you’re perfect for me, but, if you don’t feel that’s true, then I can’t force you to believe it.”
He looks up to me, pulls one of his hands from behind his head and pushes some of my long hair behind my ear, tracing his fingers down the side of my face. “I’m sorry… I just can’t help feeling like I could make things look more normal for you.”
“That’s not what I need,” I tell him with a soft smile, knowing that Tyler wouldn’t be acting like this if he hadn’t been hurt before, if maybe that ex of his hadn’t made him feel less than. “And besides, you don’t want to risk sensation for more surgeries, do you?”
He shrugs. “For you, maybe I would.”
I shake my head. “It would break my heart if you did that, if you got less pleasure out of us being together for something more aesthetically pleasing.”
“So you do think it needs work then?”
“I didn’t say aesthetically pleasing to me, Tyler. I love you just the way you are. I’d support you if you were doing it for yourself, but don’t do it for me… especially when I don’t want you to.”
He thinks on that while I keep my eyes on him, feeling like every inch of his body, imperfect as he may think it is, belongs to me now, and that I in turn belong to him. It’s not a thought that comes easy to me, considering my desire for independence and the belief that we are all our own persons and that nobody can take that away from us. And yet I still feel that deep, ancient pull that tells me I can’t help but to be joined to this man forever.
“Then I guess I probably should stop thinking about doing it,” he replies, wrapping his arms around my bare back and pulling me close to him. “I love you,” he tells me again.
“I love you too,” I say back, and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of those words.
We are kissing on Tyler’s bed, but thankfully showered and dressed, when we hear the front door open, Jessup excitedly barking and footsteps in the house.
“Shit,” Tyler says, pulling away from me.
“Your mom?” I’m the first one to stand up and wipe the wetness of his mouth from the bottom of my lip.
He pops up the second after I do, opening his door—I guess to show we aren’t doing anything worth keeping it closed—and then rushing back to the bed so that we can attempt to make it.
“You’re not very good at this,” I tease, lending a hand, straightening the sheets, the comforter and the pillows.
“Hey, I’m a guy,” he says, as if that’s any excuse.
We’ve only ever had sex in his house, in his room, with his parents gone. That doesn’t happen very often considering his mom works from home, but it does happen with careful planning that has kept us out of a cheap motel room or the back of his Jeep.
The footsteps grow louder, and pretty soon his mother is standing just outside Tyler’s door. “I thought I heard voices,” she says just after we’ve finished making his bed.
“Hey Mom.” Tyler drags his hand behind his neck, unable to look her in the eyes.
“Hi, Mrs. Duncan.” I feel a little guilty myself, wishing we’d just left the bed messy and not gotten caught at the tail end of making it.
“Helping him with some domestic duties, Claire?” His mother looks at me knowingly, a smile forming at the edge of her lips.
“Giving it my best shot,” I say, feeling my face warm.
“Well, I’m sure he’s glad for any help he can get. Now, if we could just teach him how to cook.”
“I’m not that bad,” Tyler says, more embarrassed but also relaxing.
“But you could be better,” she says with a quick laugh. “What do you say you both give me a hand tonight? We can start with that.”
“Can you stay?” Tyler asks, looking at me with a bashful expression, having now stuck his hands in his jean pockets.
“Yeah, I just have to text my mom, but I’m sure she won’t mind.”
“Very good,” Mrs. Duncan says. “Just meet me in the kitchen when you’re both ready.”
I breathe a sigh of relief when she’s gone, and note the same relief in Tyler.
“She totally knows, doesn’t she?” I ask him.
He nods. “I’m pretty sure.”
It shouldn’t be a big deal for her to know, but I can’t help but to feel a little exposed. My own mother had always talked freely about sex, but Paige warned me that when it came down to it, Mom was going to freak out, at least a little bit, when I lost my virginity. And Paige was right. When I told her about Austin, she informed me I was too young. And in a fit of rebellion, I explained to her I’d go right on doing it whether she wanted me to or not. The next day, she took me to the doctor and got me on birth control and bought me a box of condoms with the warning that, “You can’t always trust boys to have them.”
And that was true enough.
If she’d known that my first time with Tyler hadn’t been fully protected, she would have gone through the roof. I’d used a condom with Austin every single time, right along with my birth control. If I thought I loved Austin at some point, the idea of ending up pregnant with him had still terrified me. And it’s not like I want that to happen with Tyler anytime soon either, but the thought of it being
with him is a lot less alarming.
“How about your dad?” I whisper, though that doesn’t matter quite as much to me. It’s facing the mom of the boy you’re having sex with that’s tough. I’m not sure I ever looked Austin’s Mom straight in the eyes the entire time I’d dated him, not that I saw all that much of her.
With a dismissive laugh, Tyler says, “He doesn’t think I should be dating at all right now. Says I should focus on school.” Then he shakes his head again.
“What is it?” I touch his arm, knowing there is more to his father’s misgivings.
Tyler takes my hand and looks directly into my eyes. “He thinks I’ll have some kind of a breakdown if things don’t go well. Figures everyone in town will find out his son’s plumbing is damaged.”
“You mean, he thinks I would tell?” I’m horrified at even the suggestion that I’d mention something so personal to anyone, let alone someone who might judge Tyler for it.
“I don’t know what he thinks, honestly.” Tyler is dismissive now and dragging a hand through his thick hair. “He just doesn’t want our family to look bad, I guess.”
“Maybe that’s part of why you thought you wanted more surgery.”
“What, because of my dad?”
“In a roundabout way, yes. My sister’s boyfriend, Evan… well, he almost fucked up his entire education just to get his parents to notice him. I know it’s not the same thing, but if you’re changing yourself just to try to make someone else happier or even to try to piss them off, it’s just going to make it worse.”
He hears me and seems to be assessing what I’ve just told him, but when he says, “Anyway, should we head to the kitchen now?” I know he’s done talking about it.
“Sure,” I say, not wanting to break through the thin ice I’d come close to treading on.
“I hope you like chicken,” Mrs. Duncan says as Tyler and I enter the kitchen.
“Oh, I don’t actually…” I bite at my lip, not wanting to be rude but also wanting to remind Mrs. Duncan I only eat things that swim in the sea.
Between the Girls (The Basin Lake Series Book 3) Page 20
