by Clara Stone
I pull her to me; her delicate hands brace my chest with tenderness. I lean forward and feel her breathing become uneven. She pushes up on her toes as her eyes close. Her lips press into mine with a feather-light touch. There’s something shy about the way her mouth moves with mine, slow and unrushed, like this is our first time. She pulls back, and her eyelashes flutter seductively.
“You’re really good at kissing,” I compliment her.
A deep red stain fills her cheeks, and her eyes drop. I slide my finger under her chin and tilt it up, so I can look at her beautiful, haunting grays.
“Don’t get shy on me now, Ace. Not after everything we’ve been through.” Not after everything she knows about me. I want her to understand that she’s perfect for me, compliments me in ways I know no one else can. And that’s one thing I’d never want to change. I follow the flush in her cheeks with the back of my finger, all the way down to her jaw. “I love that I do this to you.”
“Me too.” She smirks, surprising me.
My heart soars like a bird set free for the first time in ages. I grin. “Meet you back here in five?”
She nods and heads to the bedroom, a small skip in her step. It takes me less than two minutes to strip and pull on my swim trunks. They’re the pair Ace bought me the last time we were here. I didn’t wear them then, because they were too big. But now, they fit snug. The elastic bites into my hips, but I don’t care. I throw a towel over my shoulder and slip into beach sandals.
“Ace, you almost done?” I yell, looking in the fridge. Maybe I can make a quick picnic basket. I see a tray of meats and fruits. Remembering the taste of Ace’s fruitiness, I pack up the fruit and leave the slices of meat. “Ace?” I call again. “What the hell is taking so long?” I drag my legs toward the bathroom door. The water is running full force, but she doesn’t respond. Panic gnaws my insides. “Ace.” I jiggle the handle; it doesn’t budge. “Ace, open this damn door, baby.”
With each passing second, my voice becomes more frantic. I bang on the door one last time before I break it down. Just as my leg connects with the door, it swings open and Ace stands there, looking a little pale.
“Ace, baby.” I don’t waste a second. I reach out and pull her into my arms. Her cold hands press against my bare chest, and I flinch at the contact. But I don’t loosen my grip.
She shivers and pushes against me. “I’m okay. Must be something I ate.”
“Do you want to go to the doctor or something?” I ask.
She waves her hand dismissively and walks around me to her suitcase. “No! I’m feeling better already,” she says, tapping her mouth with the back of her hand. “We should go.”
I study her, but I’m not convinced. My gut tells me I should take her to a hospital and get her checked.
“Don’t even think about it, Iceman.” She shoots a glare over her shoulder. “I’m not letting anything ruin our date,” she says, bagging sunscreen.
“If you’re sure you’re okay . . . ?” I’m honestly panicking, because I’ve never seen her this pale. Was this from . . . ? No, I can’t think about that. “I really think we should get you checked . . . just to be sure.”
A small pinch appears between her eyebrows. She steps up to me and looks directly into my eyes. She doesn’t blink, and her voice is strong and steady. “Sometimes, no one can stop the future, Heath. So don’t worry too much about what ifs and live in the moment of today. With me.” She ruffles my hair. Her lips curve up, but the dullness behind her eyes tells me a different story.
It’s like she’s telling me goodbye. My heart clenches violently. What if . . . “Okay,” I say, taking her hand between mine and kissing her knuckles.
AFTER MY SMALL PANIC attack earlier, Heath’s patience seemed to decrease. Little things irritated him, like when he tried to pop open a Pepsi can and the ring snipped, he shoved the whole thing into the trash.
But about an hour ago, he left, saying he needed to take care of something before our date tonight. I don’t mind, though. Maybe he just needed some time for himself, since he’s spending his weekend with me, instead of with his teammates, practicing for the championship. Maybe that’s what has him irritated?
I pull a yellow, polka-dot summer dress with spaghetti straps over my head. It falls to about an inch above my knees. I tie the drawstring into a bow just under my chest. Running my hand down the fabric, I jut my hip to the side. The short frock swishes above my knees as I swirl around. I’m more nervous about this date than a mouse in a snake pit.
I pull out the red, beaded bracelet Heath had bought me during our last visit, from a local shop a few blocks from here. I shimmy it over my wrist and check to ensure it doesn’t come off when I move. I apply smoky eye-makeup; just enough so that my gray eyes pop.
My cell pings.
Hudson: Doing okay?
My heart thuds against my chest as I re-read Hudson’s text. I’d updated him and Dad, keeping them both posted. I promised Dad that I’d be home tomorrow as planned.
Hudson: I know you’re worried, but we’re here for you . . .
I finally find the nerve to respond.
Me: I know.
Hudson: He should be too. You need to tell him, Ace.
Me: I know.
Hudson: But you won’t.
I don’t respond.
Hudson: I’ll see you soon. Stay strong. Tell him.
Heath’s been hovering over me like a needy kid since the incident this afternoon. And he doesn’t even know the truth yet. I know I’m playing with fire, holding back this information. But every time I make an attempt, I can’t quite bring myself to say it. I don’t want to be the reason the spark in his eyes disappears, or the reason he loses his championship. I know I’ll have to tell him eventually. But right now, tonight, it’s Heath and I in our own little world.
I open the door when the bell rings and gasp to find the most striking blue eyes staring back at me. Heath’s donned khaki shorts and a gray tee that hugs his chest, outlining the muscles hidden below the material. The silhouette of his biceps leaves me breathless. My eyes travel up and down his body, making sure I commit everything about our first, and possibly last, date to memory.
He throws a knee-weakening smile and hands me a humongous bouquet of pink Damask roses. “For my favorite girl in the whole world, her favorite roses.”
Blood rushes to my ears and heat pools in my cheeks. “What did you do? Rob a florist?” I tease him, trying to take the attention off me. Opening my arms, I scoop up the flowers and hug them to my chest. I take a quick whiff and sigh in glee.
“I’d have to kill you, if I told you,” he says, stepping into the room as I turn away.
I run into the kitchen, trying to find a vase or a glass or something to keep the flowers hydrated. When I don’t find anything, I block the sink and fill it up before placing the bouquet in there.
I grab my clutch and head back to where he waits. A scowl decorates his face.
“What?”
“Why are you bringing your purse?” He says it like I just committed murder.
I raise my eyebrow. “It’s called a clutch.”
He ignores my correction. “Maybe your previous cheap-ass dates had you paying. But I’m not one of them.”
I roll my eyes and throw the clutch on the couch. “Happy?”
“Completely. Now, to start our date off on the right foot.” He scoops me into his arms and his mouth collides with mine. By the time we part, both of us are panting like humans running in a sled-dog competition.
“Hi.” He grins.
The butterflies in my tummy dance out of control, and my heart trembles at the tender greeting. “Hi.”
Ten minutes later, he parks at the top of the hill overlooking his father’s golf course. The course is part of the resort accommodations. But tonight, it’s deserted. Not a single soul in sight.
“Did all the golfers turn into crickets or something?” I ask, staring into the stillness lit by the golf course lamps.
<
br /> Heath takes my hand and threads our fingers together before leading us down the hilly path. “There weren’t many golfers today, so I had them close out this section.”
“But isn’t that bad for business?”
He simply shrugs and tucks me against his side, his hand wrapped around my waist. When his pace slows, I squint, catching dark silhouettes up ahead. The closer we get, the more I’m able to make out the shapes. A set of carnival games are set up—Horseshoe, Pop the Balloon, Ladder Ball. And behind all of that, a big, maybe one-twenty or so sized white screen stands, laser beams moving to Journey’s music playing across it.
I look up at him.
“I know how much you love carnival games. But this was the closest I could get.”
Tears brim my eyes. Going to the state fair every year has been our thing for as long as I can remember. This year, I don’t know what to expect. But at least I’ll have this. “Thank you; I love it! You’re the bestest boyfriend ever.”
His mouth curves into a lopsided grin. “If I’d known all I had to do to make you my girl was take you to a carnival, I’d have done so at that date night event.”
“Well, now you know.” I reach for his lips, hiking up on my toes.
He chuckles. “Now I know. You ready to let the games begin?”
“Oh, Iceman, you’re so excited to get your butt kicked.” I laugh.
“Ha, you wish! Just because you’re my girlfriend now, doesn’t mean I’ll go any easier on you. Unless . . .” His eyes turn smoldering and dark, making him all the more appealing. “I get something out of letting you win.”
A shiver shoots up my spine. “You already have me. I have nothing else to give you,” I whisper, suddenly feeling like I need to down a gallon of water.
His pupils dilate, turning a tinge darker. Cartwheels start in the pit of my stomach. “I’ll think of something.”
I swallow.
“Now, come on.”
For the next hour, we jump from one station to another, playing game after game. In the end, I lost.
“You owe me a huge favor.” He pulls me in, kissing me under the stars.
“You cheated,” I accuse him. “There were way too many loop and circle games. You had an advantage, being Mr. Hot-shot-football-lacrosse-player and all.”
He chuckles. “You think I’m hot, huh?”
I bite my lip to keep from spilling just how hot I think he is. “Shut up.”
“Come on,” he mumbles. “Time to wrap up our date.”
I frown, but turn it into a forced smile when he looks at me. He walks us toward the big screen. I hadn’t noticed the picnic blanket and stuff set up in front of it.
“Ready for dinner and a movie?” he asks, walking backward, his arms wide.
I’m speechless.
“Did you really think that was all I had planned?” He comes back to me. “Oh, sweet, naive Ace.” He drawls each word. “You’re the one I’ve been waiting my entire life for. There’s no way I’d ever send you home without being fully satisfied—mind, body, and . . .” He leans in, and his breath raises a trail of goose bumps across my skin.
I shiver.
“. . . senses.” His lips graze the shell of my ear.
I let out a shaky breath.
“Now, let’s get started, hmm?” He settles onto the blanket, his hand reaching toward me.
I slip my hand into his and nestle against his side, tucking into him. “How did you manage this?” I ask.
The opening credits for Lady and the Tramp plays on the screen.
“Shush.” He points to the movie. His lips pucker, like he’s trying to keep himself from smiling. I watch him watching the cartoon. Everything I’ve ever wanted and wished for is right here. Him, me, a day of unforgettable memories; memories I might not be able to make . . . one in particular crosses my mind, and I blush.
“You gonna keep staring at me, beautiful, or you gonna watch the movie?”
I know I should feel embarrassed for being caught, or at least look away. But I don’t. “I have a better idea.” Life’s short, after all. Without thinking too much about the fact we’re outside, I push to my knees, hike up my dress, and straddle him.
He stiffens everywhere, and his eyes land on mine. They twinkle brilliantly, bringing out the green in his hazel eyes. His hands rest on my hips, digging into my skin. He tilts his head to the side, as he studies my face with interest. His voice comes out in a deep, harsh whisper, like he just got out of bed. “What are you doing, baby?”
“What does it look like?” I lean in. My lips touch the contours of his jaw, and I trail my nose to the underside of his ear. “I’m . . .”
I squeal as he flips me flat on my back in point one second, pinning me to the ground, his body hovering over mine. Hesitant at first, he closes the distance, his lips touching my forehead, then my nose, then my temples on both sides. My eyes close as I feel his touch skate across my skin like hot fire.
“Open your eyes, Ace.” His voice sounds like warmth and sunshine.
I do as he instructs. He drags his gaze from one side of my face to the other, like he doesn’t know what to say or do. “You’re playing a dangerous game. One even I won’t be able to back out of.”
“I know what I’m doing,” I respond and let my knees fall open.
He growls. “No, baby. You don’t. See, this is where the rabbit thinks it can tame the hunger-driven wolf. But what the rabbit doesn’t understand is once the wolf’s had a taste, there’s no stopping.”
I blink. “I never said you should stop.”
His brows pinch in the middle.
I want to run my hand over it. So I do. “Don’t think. Just be.”
“What are you doing to me, Ace?” He presses the lower half of his body into me, and I moan from the friction down below. “Do you have any idea how much I want you?”
“I think . . . I have an idea or two.” I bite my lip and move my hips up against him.
He hisses. “You’re going to pay for that, you tease.”
His mouth devours mine. There’s no caution, no gentleness to the way we try to get more of each other—our hands and tongues battle for control.
For the first time, his hand grazes over my breast, and I suck in a breath.
His hand stills, and his head pulls back. “Too fast?”
I shake my head and brazenly place my hand over his, slowly showing him the way back to where it was. “No, just never . . .” My embarrassment intensifies.
Heath swallows. “Never?”
I nod. “I never went past kissing.”
He groans and attacks me with an open-mouthed kiss. “Christ. What did I do to deserve you?” he says, more like a question to himself.
I don’t answer. I wrap my legs around his waist as his mouth tries to find a place it wants to settle on. The world around me blurs.
“Heath,” I cry.
The sprinklers hiss as they turn on. I squeal in surprise. Heath jumps up, cursing. He takes my hand, and we start running out of the artificial rain. About mid-way, I let go of his hand and he continues forward, covering his face. I can’t stop myself from breaking into a fit of giggles.
I hold onto my sides and stop. I’m completely drenched in cold water, and my dress is clinging to me like a second skin. I don’t see a point in trying to out-run the sprinkle-mafia. So I rest my hands on my knees and laugh. I laugh like this is my last chance to be happy.
I look up and see Heath running back toward me, scowling.
“What are you doing?” he yells. “We should get you dry before you catch pneumonia or something.”
True. But why pass up on some fun? I did have an item on my bucket list that involved Heath, kissing, and rain. And since this is as good of a chance as I’m likely to get, why not?
I run forward and throw myself onto him—wrapping my legs and arms around him. I press my lips to his and kiss him with everything I’ve got. He’s momentarily stunned. But soon, his hands palm my butt, securing me fr
om falling, and his mouth responds with the same hunger and need, all while we’re being sprinkled on.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” I whisper into his mouth when we come up for air. “Kiss you in the rain.”
“You have?”
“Still do.” I kiss him again.
He chuckles. “God, I love you.”
The words “I love you, too” sit at the tip of my tongue. But I ignore the impulse to tell him. I can’t, not when I’m still hiding the truth from him. After all, loving someone means that you don’t keep secrets. Especially secrets that could destroy the other person.
He rubs his nose against mine. “Feel free to make use of me for any of your needs.”
Oh. I plan on it. Tonight. I want to give him something that’s only mine to give. “Take me home, Heath.”
He obliges without a word, walking us back to his Jeep.
It takes us less than eight minutes to make it back to our room, to having my back pinned to the door, his lips locked on mine, consuming me. I know, because I timed it. The heated glances in Heath’s eyes the entire way were enough to tell me I wouldn’t have much persuading to do.
Come tomorrow, we go back home; I’ll be prepping to find out my results, and he’ll be heading to his state championship. That leaves me with tonight. I don’t want him to think I gave myself to him because Death’s notice was hanging over my head. I want to give him myself wholly, because I want to. Because I love him.
“So . . . ?” I make it sound casual. But both of us know it’s anything but.
He raises his perfect eyebrow. “So . . .”
I smirk. Oh, Heath. You’re really going to make me spell it out, aren’t you?
“I’m going back there,” I say, pointing in the direction of the bedroom, “to get ready for bed. I want you . . .” I shake my head. It’s not just want with Heath anymore. I place my hand over his heart. “I need you to come to bed with me.”
He sucks in a deep breath, and I feel his heart thumping under my hand. But there’s confusion, hesitance at what I’m asking him to do. His eyebrows squeeze together and sadness glistens behind those hazel eyes. I rub my finger over that crease in his forehead. His eyes dart to mine.
