The Summer of Us: A Romance Anthology

by AJ Matthews

  I can’t recall ever feeling like this. So enthralled, so seductive, so abandoned.

  So in control.

  He tenses beneath me, every muscle in his body rigid as a guttural cry erupts from his throat.

  And the goddess I’ve become with his every touch pumps, slides, and shivers before collapsing atop my own Celtic god.

  Chapter Six

  Shay

  She’s sleeping so peacefully. I hate to wake her, but I am starving since we skipped lunch. I ease my arm out from under her head, her silky hair tickling my arm as I slide it out.

  Success.

  My feet slap the cold tile floor, and I bend to retrieve my discarded boxers.

  Wow. Her face, softened in sleep, had been so expressive when I touched her, tasted her. The last few days have been crazy.

  Not the way I’d expected my last days in Key West to be. I’m not complaining. These had been the best days ever.

  I’m young, with my whole life ahead of me, but I’ll never forget this.

  Never forget her.

  I fish my phone out of the pocket of my discarded wet shorts and order a pizza from Brenda’s around the corner, then grab a dry shirt and shorts. Leaving a note on the pillow, I walk out and ease down the narrow stairs, slick with leaves blown free by the storm. The streets are mostly clear of people, but a few chickens had come out of hiding, pecking at the dark purple berries mottling the sidewalk. The rain hasn’t cooled the temperature. Instead, the heat and rain combine to create an outdoor sauna, which intensifies the pungent scent of orchids wafting from our neighbor’s backyard garden.

  Thea complains the humidity wreaks havoc on her hair, but I love it loose and wild. I enjoyed the way it tickled my legs when she arched her head back when she was riding me.

  It sucks she’s leaving tomorrow afternoon. I wish I’d met her sooner on her trip. Two weeks with Thea would have been heaven.

  I’ll settle for one more night even though it’s not enough.

  I whistle, something I’m not inclined to do, and it’s a happy song.

  Brenda’s is empty of customers, but Jack, the delivery driver, is stacking boxes to throw in the car. Lots of delivery orders tonight. Storm clouds still loom in the distance, and folks don’t want to get stuck out in the rain.

  Brenda is working the counter. “Come to help out? Busy night with deliveries. I could use an extra set of wheels.”

  My first job in high school was here, and I laugh. “My days of driving pies are done, thanks. Just here to get my own.”

  She peeks into the oven. “Cheeseburger pizza?”

  “Yep.”

  She opens the door, and the heat from the oven behind the counter blasts my face. Even with the window AC unit running, the store is scorching.

  I pay with a twenty, and though the pie is fourteen dollars, I stuff the change into the tip jar. Local businesses like Brenda’s struggled during the national downturn, and I want to do what I can to help her get back on her feet.

  I walk out and whistle the happy song again as I head back home.

  I take the steps two at a time and head into the apartment. “Hello?” I call out.

  No answer.

  The bed’s empty, the note where I left it, and the bathroom vacant.

  I check the floor.

  Her clothes are gone, and her purse too.

  Crap.

  She left. A vise crushes my chest.

  I grab my phone from my pocket, text her, and wait.

  After a few minutes, still no response.

  Impatient, I dial her number, pacing, walking outside. I can’t stand still.

  From the landing of the stairs, I swear I hear her phone ringing from across the narrow strip of yard separating the garage and house, but no one answers.

  I hang up, and the ringing stops. I sprint down the stairs and dart up the back porch to the airy kitchen of the main house.

  Mom and Thea sit in the homey, sunshine-yellow kitchen, sharing tea and perusing old photos at the farmhouse table.

  Thea smiles sheepishly, her face glowing red. What’s that all about?

  “Hey, honey!” Mom gets up and grabs a soda from the fridge for me since I’m not big on tea. She points at the chair next to her and takes her seat. “Sit. I’m getting acquainted with your new friend. Your father told me all about her last night. She’s lovelier than he described.”

  She takes a sip of her tea, glancing between the two of us, her eyes questioning.

  Thea flushes again. “Thank you, Mrs. Kelly.” Her voice is quiet, her eyes cast to the floor.

  “Please, call me Dina. I saw your light on, Shay, and went to check on your dinner plans. Your dad’s working late and Mac’s staying on for a couple hours at Paddy’s. You didn’t answer your door, so I went in and found Thea.”

  Another sip of tea. Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and she hides a smile behind her mug.

  Glad she has something else to focus on instead of obsessing about Mac and the car accident.

  Mom wasn’t telling the whole story, so I’d ask Thea when we were alone. “Oh, yeah, dinner. I got a pizza. Let me go grab it.”

  I hate to leave Thea alone with Mom, but there’s no way Mom’s letting us both go, figuring we wouldn’t come back.

  I return with the box a minute later, and Mom’s got the china out. For pizza. Not a typical Kelly dinner served on paper plates with soda or beer right out of the bottle.

  “Thea, sweetie, what would you like to drink? Soda, beer, iced tea . . .”

  I mouth at her, “Beer. BEER.”

  She covers her mouth and clears her throat. “Water is fine, Mrs. Kelly.”

  “Keep calling me ‘Mrs. Kelly’ and I’ll insist you call me Mom.” She guffaws, but Thea’s face flushes crimson.

  I cover my eyes with my hand. This isn’t awkward at all. I glance at Thea and mouth the words “Eat fast” while Mom’s head is stuck in the fridge.

  I wash my hands and dole out two slices to each plate, putting the box in the center of the rectangular table.

  Mom’s still sitting between us, and with the photo albums piled on the far end of the table, I’m stuck here on the opposite side.

  “Thea, are you still in school?”

  “C’mon Mom, can we eat?”

  “Seamus . . .”

  I cringe and stop talking. That’s her pleasant way of saying “Shut your mouth.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I still need to complete my student teaching. My mama was an elementary school teacher, and I’m following in her footsteps.”

  “So sweet. I love being around little kids, despite their propensity to spew bodily fluids. They’re much more pliable before they hit puberty.” Mom pinches my cheek.

  I swat her hand away.

  Thea’s forehead scrunches.

  I explain, “Mom’s a pediatric nurse. She was working the ER the night we met her. We’d moved here weeks before, and I was sick. High fever, chills, the whole thing. Da panicked and dragged all three of us to the hospital at three in the morning.”

  Mom laughs. “What a sight. Ed, this bear of a man, was near crying. A tiny one clung to his leg, and another ran circles around the waiting room. And this one, pale and shaking and sweating in his brawny papa’s arms.”

  Mom’s face relaxes as she gets lost in the memory.

  “You reached to take me from Da, and I puked on you.” The thing I remembered the most, though, was how safe and warm I felt in her arms. Rose wasn’t the most . . . attentive and favored my twin Liam. Mom’s maternal touch was a welcome sanctuary to the sick, sad little boy I was then.

  My critical illness saved our family, made it whole.

  Mom smiles again and touches my arm. She understands how grateful we all are for her every day.

  Thea laughs lightly. “What a sweet story. Even with the vomit.”

  “Ha. More pizza, anyone?” We all chuckle as I grab another slice. I worked up an appetite earlier and need my strength for later.

 
I plan to make the most of the hours left.

  Without clothes on either of us.

  Thea licks her lips and skims her fingers across the base of her throat, drawing my eyes to her chest.

  I can’t wait to get out of here.

  Mom’s phone buzzes and she checks her text. “It’s your father. He’s not working late, after all. The romantic old bugger’s planned a ‘secret date’ for us and told me to put on my ‘fancy dress.’”

  She rises and heads upstairs, calling out, “You kids stay as long as you want.”

  Thea and I glance at each other, hand wash the plates and glasses, and make a mad dash for the door.

  Thea

  “Mmmmmm. Uh-huh. Oh!”

  I’m on the floor in front of Shay’s futon as his magic hands massage the knot out of my neck I’d gotten from sleeping at a funny angle earlier.

  “Tell me.” His hands still. “Or no more neck rub.”

  I gasp, my hand flying to my chest. “Blackmailer!”

  He holds his hands up. “Doing what I must for the information I want.”

  “Hrumph.” I mock-pout but tell him. “I was in the bathroom, and the water was running. I thought I heard the door creak open. If I’d known it was your mom, I’d have climbed in the shower and hidden.”

  “But instead . . .”

  “Instead, I went in your wardrobe and threw on one of your dress shirts but left it unbuttoned, trying to be sexy. I’m sauntering to the bedroom door, calling out, ‘Come ‘n get it, cowboy.’” My face burns at the memory.

  He’s laughing so hard he might cry. “Did you really say ‘cowboy’?”

  I nod, unable to speak. I’m so mortified.

  He wiggles his fingers, gesturing for more.

  “Then your mom comes through the door and we both stop dead. She eyes me from head to toe, suspiciously, of course.”

  “And all you had on is my shirt?”

  “Yes,” I squeak.

  “She found out you’re a natural blond, at least.” He chokes on his laughter.

  I grab the pillow lying on the floor and whack him a few times.

  “Ow. Ow. OWWWW!” He throws his arms up in self-defense and grabs the pillow from me before clutching my wrists behind my back.

  His hazel eyes glitter with mirth. I am not amused.

  We’re kneeling on the floor, and his warm body presses to mine, my chest making direct contact with his.

  What was I talking about? My mind goes blank, and my lungs constrict.

  He releases my hands and yanks off his shirt. He’s so hot. I’d already seen him naked, or nearly so, a couple times, but I marvel all the same. The finely sculpted muscles of his chest, framed by sinewy arms, transition into a hard abdomen. The smattering of dark hair dusting his chest tapers to a fine point and disappears into the waist of his shorts.

  Treasure trail, indeed.

  He reaches to undo his shorts, sliding them from his slim hips.

  If perfection is possible, I found it.

  Shay

  I bolt to the bedroom to grab a condom.

  I return and kneel in front of her again, pressing my palms against her creamy cheeks dotted with a sweet pink flush. The deluge we were caught in earlier did not wash away the raspberries.

  I want to eat her up.

  Her forehead is warm under my lips, and her sigh tickles my ear as I move to brush a kiss into the crook of her neck.

  My fingers weave into her silky hair. I need to taste her.

  I press my open mouth to hers, my tongue plunging inside to drink in her sweetness. Her groans mingle with my own.

  I touch her back, stroking and squeezing. Her whole body trembles against mine.

  I slide my hands between us, one thumb brushing a pebbled nipple. She gasps and I swallow the sound. A single thought crosses my mind.

  I’d do anything, to make this moment last forever.

  She offers me her neck, so I bury my nose there and inhale her fruitiness. Her delicate hands leave a trail of scorch marks on my arms and back.

  I suck on the sensitive skin of her neck then lick the red spot. She’s sweet and salty and irresistible.

  The shadowed crevice of her cleavage beckons and my tongue traces a path downward. I pull back and tug her shirt off before dropping a kiss on the top of each breast above the silky pink fabric of her bra. Her hands move to my head, gripping my hair and encouraging me.

  I capture a nipple through the thin material and suck until the bud hardens against my tongue.

  Her sharp gasp echoes through the room.

  I continue teasing the peak, swirling my tongue around before repeating on the other side.

  Thea moans and tugs at my hair, pushing my head lower.

  I lay her back on the worn area rug and kneel between her legs, kissing her rounded belly before moving to tease the tender flesh inside each knee.

  Her eyes are heavy-lidded, her breath coming in sweet little pants.

  I pause above the pale nest of curls between her thighs. Her clean, slightly musky scent arouses me further.

  She arches her hips to my face, and I grab on as I sink my tongue into her slick, hot cleft, lapping at her sweetness.

  She’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

  Her engorged clitoris is hard in my mouth as I suck on the bundle of nerves, flicking my tongue back and forth. Her legs shake. It’s coming.

  She’s coming.

  Thea rocks her pelvis against my mouth, and I come to my knees as her shudders fade.

  She props up on her elbows and reaches one hand between us.

  My breath hitches as her hot hand grasps my penis.

  She’s pushing me back, crawling on all fours as I inch backward to the couch, sliding on to it. She doesn’t follow, and instead slips a throw pillow on the cold tile between my feet, kneels between my legs.

  I raise my hand to touch her hair billowing around her face and am surprised to see I’m not shaking on the outside.

  Because my insides are whipping around like a Category 5 hurricane about to hit land.

  She licks the bead of pre-come from the head of my penis, and my hips jerk at the contact.

  Then her lips encase me as her fingers dig into my thigh muscles. Encouraged by the loud groan erupting from my throat, her wet mouth slides on my shaft, and pinpricks of hot pleasure blinding me.

  My fingers graze her scalp and tighten when her moans vibrate against my sensitive flesh. My gaze falls to her, to find her clear blue eyes watching me.

  She may be on her knees, but I don’t fool myself into believing I’m in control.

  Thea has all the power in the world at the moment, and all I can do is beg her for mercy.

  “Please.” It’s more a grunt than an actual word.

  She understands though. She quickens her pace, her sweet mouth frantic as one hand cups my testicles and massages gently.

  My shoulders tense as a bolt of lightning strikes my stomach.

  I can’t hold back.

  “Sweetheart, sto—” I try to pull out, but her mouth remains firm, sucking and licking and asking me to . . .

  My body shakes from the inside out, vibrating from my groin and tingling to my fingers and toes. I fall back against the cushion, and she climbs into my lap, her sweet lips nuzzling my neck.

  Her sweat-slicked skin glistens, the scent of berries intensified by the heat of our passion.

  My heartbeat slows to a normal pace. The stroke of her fingers on my skin could lull me to sleep.

  But I refuse to sleep tonight. These last few days were extraordinary, and I hope if I stay awake the magic will last.

  We stretch out on the couch, and I slide my hands across her powdery-soft skin.

  She props her chin on my chest, biting her lip, her forehead wrinkling.

  I brush a few strands of hair from her face, and stroke my thumbs across her jaw, her temples.

  She stares at me as she chews on the inside of her cheek, making me squirm.

 
; “What?”

  “You know about the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to me . . .”

  I laugh. I’m sure it ranks as one of my mom’s most embarrassing moments too.

  “. . . so you tell me yours.”

  Huh. I’m not sure what to say. None of my embarrassments come near hers.

  I don’t want to make her feel bad, but I’m not one to lie. “I got nothing on you.”

  She pops onto her forearms, eyes wide and lips pursed.

  She’s so cute when she’s indignant.

  “Not fair. You know a secret I won’t ever tell anyone, ever. ‘Fess up. You’ve gotta give me something.”

  I consider this for a few moments.

  There’s something. It’s dark and heartbreaking, though, far from humiliating.

  For some reason, I’m compelled to tell her.

  About my mother. My birth mother.

  I’ve never talked to anyone outside my family about what happened, except Fred.

  “All right. When I was six, before we moved here, my ma took us out. The weather was dreadful, and she had no business driving. She veered off the road, and we hit a tree at full speed.” My breath shudders in and out as I recall the scene.

  Her voice is rife with concern. “Shay, no, don’t. You don’t have to . . .”

  But I want to. Need to.

  “The stench . . . the engine was on fire, a metallic tang in the air. I was thrown from the car, injured, but Mac was crying—he was three—and Liam was begging for her to wake up.

  “I had to get back to the car. Though I couldn’t walk, desperation urged me forward, compelled me to crawl back through the icy muck to the car to help them. I pulled Liam from Ma’s neck and unbuckled Mac from his car seat and wrapped him in his blanket. Ma wouldn’t wake up, but we couldn’t stay. Not with the car on fire. I feared the worst, that she was . . . and I had to save my brothers.”

  She sniffs and I open my eyes, jerking me from the nightmare world.

  “The accident, a couple days ago, when I went to the hospital . . .”

  “Mmm hmm?”

  “Mac was driving. He ran off the road, and we feared the worst. That he tried to . . .”

  I can’t finish, but her faint nod tells me she understands.