Fireworks

by Sarina Bowen

  A few short minutes later we’re panting and desperate. Skye feels shaky under my touch, and I’m so heated up that I can barely string words together. “Let’s go,” I croak when we come up for air.

  “Your jacket…” Skye gasps. “It’s inside.”

  “We’ll get it tomorrow.” I tug her off the wall and head into the woods, where it’s truly dark. But there’s just enough of a moonglow to show us the snow at the edge of the trail. The damp, pine scent is my new favorite aphrodisiac. We cross the woods in record time, and then we’re practically racing up the flight of stairs to my place.

  I have never opened a door so fast, not even when trying to run down a perp. Two seconds after reaching my floor, I’ve pulled us both into my apartment and kicked the door shut. Her hands are on my body as I kiss her hungrily. I fumble for the hem of her sweater and tug it upward, walking her backward at the same time.

  She nearly bumps into the sofa, damn it. At the last second I yank her back onto the right path. I should slow down so I don’t maim us both. But I can’t seem to find the willpower.

  Pausing in the hallway, I kiss her deeply, taking sip after sip from her mouth. My hands wander under that short skirt that’s made me nuts all night. And when I find the skin of her upper thighs, she moans into my mouth.

  My whole body is on fire. My hands are stupid, clumsy things. But somehow I find the zipper on her skirt and tug it down until the fabric falls away.

  Meanwhile, she’s unbuttoning my shirt. I let her get about halfway down until I just reach up and shrug it over my head, then fight my arms out of the sleeves. It’s not graceful, but neither of us cares. I steer her into the darkened bedroom. Unless I’m crazy, I’m finally about to do something I’ve craved my whole life.

  Even in my horny, desperate haze, though, there is still a part of me that needs to protect Skye. “Tell me to stop,” I beg between kisses. “If there’s some reason you don’t want this tonight, speak up now.”

  She finds the bed with the backs of her knees and topples onto it. Then she pulls me down with two hands and kisses me desperately.

  Twenty

  Springtime, Twelve Years Ago

  Benito watches March melt into April. The snow doesn’t disappear all at once. For weeks, there are dingy little piles in the shadiest spots.

  But he feels it coming. He can see the buds on the trees. And when he drives his bike to school every morning—with Skye seated behind him—the wind smells green.

  Her embrace makes him feel crazy. But not as crazy as the knowledge that graduation is just weeks away.

  He’s been looking forward to graduation for years, and now he sees the error of his ways. The nearer it looms, the less excited he is about enlisting in the army. They’ll help pay for college, though, and he can bank his paycheck, too. It’s always seemed like a win-win.

  Except. It’s dawning on him that he’ll leave everyone he cares about behind. His mom will be there in the trailer, still worrying about their evil neighbor. And Zara doesn’t have a post-graduation plan in place, so he’s going to worry about both of them.

  He tries to talk Zara into enlisting, too, because that would solve at least one problem. “You’re already a badass,” he reasons. “This would just make it official.”

  “Are you high? I fucking hate authority,” is Zara’s quick response.

  Well, there’s that.

  Worst of all will be leaving Skye behind. He can’t think about it without feeling a dull ache right behind his breastbone. Skye’s not even seventeen. She has two years of high school left. Jimmy Gage shows no signs of letting up on her. And he’s untouchable. How can Benito just get on a bus and leave her here?

  The fear isn’t totally selfless, either. When he thinks of long months away from her, he feels bleak.

  That must be why he’s spending so much more time in their outdoor living room, strumming his brother’s ukulele and watching for her smile. He lights a fire nearly every evening of March and April. They sit and chat and listen for the first peeper frogs of the season.

  In May they don’t need a fire anymore. It’s a warm Saturday afternoon when Skye turns up chattier and more bubbly than usual. “Aunt Jenny told me to come for a visit this summer,” she says. “I mean—most people don’t summer in the Bronx, but I’m going to start a new trend.”

  The ache in Benito’s chest gives a quick stab and then eases again. Because if Skye’s in New York City, she won’t be anywhere near Gage when Benito ships out to basic training. “Are you thinking of staying past the summer?” he asks carefully.

  “Maybe,” she says immediately. “Unless I really feel like I’m underfoot. Aunt Jenny will let me, especially when I tell her how, um, bad it really is.”

  And it is bad.

  “I just don’t think I can survive this place after you’re gone. I mean, there’s Gage,” she finally says. “But also…” She breaks off.

  “What?” he whispers.

  There’s a look in her eye that he doesn’t often see. It’s desire. All his blood stops circulating. “I’ll miss you too much,” she whispers hoarsely.

  Benito’s had a lot of practice with exercising control around Skye, but he can’t help but respond to the way she’s looking at him.

  “Hey,” he says, because his ability to form sentences has suddenly slowed to half the normal speed. He pulls himself together enough to say, “Will you go to grad prom with me?”

  “What?” she asks, her eyes unmistakably hopeful.

  “Grad prom. Our school is too small to throw both a prom and a graduation party, so they do the whole thing on graduation day.”

  “Right,” she says, licking her lips. “But do you mean…with a group of friends?”

  “No, honey. You and me.” He wants her safe with Aunt Jenny in New York, but he’ll be damned if he lets her leave without telling her how he really feels. “Let me take you out. We’ll have one terrific night—a great meal, and the party. We can pretend that life is easier. Just once.”

  “Wow…” Her eyes get shy. “I’d like that very much.”

  “So would I. So it’s a date?” He reaches over and grabs her hand, intending to give it a friendly squeeze. But the power of first love intervenes. Without even thinking, he tugs her closer and finally brushes a kiss across her soft mouth. It’s the most natural thing in the world.

  So natural, in fact, that Skye leans in for more.

  Benito closes his eyes, because the sight of her loving expression is too much to process at close range. He needs to concentrate on the scent of her hair and the sweet exhalation that hits his lips just before he kisses her again. This time he presses his mouth firmly to hers, deepening the kiss just enough to get a hint of the sweetness he always knew was there.

  It’s like plunging into a cool lake on a hot day—it’s still a shock to his system no matter how long he’s looked forward to it. And yet. Because he’s wise beyond his years, he kicks quickly to the surface. He makes the kiss a good one, but then he forces himself to pull away.

  Skye blinks back at him afterwards, looking stunned. Her ivory skin is splotched at her cheekbones, and her lips are rosy.

  “That’ll have to hold us for now,” he says, his voice a rasp.

  She blinks one more time. “Right. I’m…” She puts her fingertips to her mouth and falls silent. Then she seems to shake herself awake. “I’m supposed to be babysitting for the Carerras in fifteen minutes.”

  “And I have work to do,” he lies. But he has to put some distance between himself and that kiss. He knows the ukulele is an entirely inadequate barrier between what he wants and what he can have right now. “Later, Skyescraper.”

  She wrinkles her perfect nose. “Later, Rossi.”

  He walks away through the trees. And he doesn’t look back so that she won’t see how big he’s smiling.

  Twenty-One

  Skylar

  The night we never got. Somehow, between the party and the bed, I lose my anger. My heart is
ready to forgive Benito for his teenage betrayal. And my body forgave him last Friday night, about three minutes after I walked into the Gin Mill for the first time.

  I’m flat on my back, holding Benito in a vise grip, taking every kiss and begging for more. I’m attacking Benito like a brazen hussy.

  Do people even say brazen hussy anymore? Whatever. So long as Benito doesn’t stop kissing me, I don’t have to think.

  We lost my skirt somewhere in the hallway, but I’m still wearing boots. I thrash a little, wondering if I can kick them off.

  “I got you,” he rasps. His hand slides down my leg to my boot, which he unzips efficiently. I arch my back, my chest rising and falling rapidly as he tugs it off, and then moves on to the other one. My socks are the next to go—both of them in quick succession.

  Then soft lips graze my knee, and travel upwards at a teasing pace. My lady bits quiver as he approaches my panties. I actually squirm on the bed, unable to stay still. “Come here,” I order. I crave his weight on top of me. I’m not in the mood to be teased.

  “I like you bossy,” he murmurs. Then he stands up and removes all his clothing. All of it, while I watch with a dry mouth. He lies down beside me on the bed, his head propped up in one hand. “What else are you going to order me to do?” Dark eyes look down at me, and there’s humor in them.

  And I love it. I love him, if we’re being honest. But I’m in way over my head. I care too much and I know too little. I can’t answer his question, because I don’t exactly know what to do with a 100 percent naked Benito. Until now, sex was always something that was done to me.

  And it was over so quickly that I never learned much about it.

  Benito doesn’t seem to notice or mind my silence, though. He reaches over and scoops my body closer to his. Then he takes one of my hands and places it on his chest.

  Ooh. His chest. It’s my favorite part of him. Actually, I really like his mouth and his eyes, too. But the chest is solidly in the top ten…

  But Benito isn’t done. Now he drags my hand slowly down his body. We pass a set of washboard abs, and the firm ripple actually makes me whimper with surprise, because he feels so good under my hand. A wave of heat rolls down my body.

  A second later he places my hand right on his erection. It’s an impossibly bold thing to do—the sort of thing that played through my teenage fantasies. No—it’s hotter than my timid teenage dreams. But I always wanted him to treat me like a woman instead of a little girl who needed saving.

  These are my thoughts as Benito removes his hand, leaving mine on his cock. I’m too captivated to take my hand away, so I leave it there like a dummy. I can’t get over the hardness under my palm. So I close my fingers around it.

  “Fuck!” Benito groans at the contact. His mouth finds the underside of my jaw, and his kiss explores my neck. I melt against the bed, stunned by how good it feels as his lips and tongue make love to my neck. Stunned.

  I’m twenty-eight years old and I have embarrassing little sexual experience.

  Benito isn’t waiting for me to make the next brilliant move, though. He’s reaching under my sweater, unclasping my bra. He moans, and that’s when I realize I’m still clutching his penis like a stick shift.

  Whoops! He knocks my hand away, though, because he needs me to lift my arms to shed my sweater and bra. His confidence is enough for both of us, somehow. I kick off my panties as if I do this all the time.

  And then I’m naked with the only man I’ve ever loved.

  He whispers sweet things as he rolls onto my body. “Honey,” and “so beautiful.” I experience the hot press of his body against mine as another scorcher of a kiss finds my mouth.

  My poor little brain has never processed so much sensory overload at once. There’s the firmness of his thighs between mine, and the gentle scrape of chest hair against my breasts. His fingers weave into my hair, which makes my scalp tingle happily.

  And that’s not even counting the warm slide of his tongue on mine, or the erection between my legs… I feel like an electrical circuit that’s shorting out. My hips arch toward his, looking for more contact.

  He gives it to me, dragging the base of his cock right across the epicenter of my desperation.

  Holy macaroni. I let out a shameless moan as I reconsider the idea that I’m not a very sexual person. He groans in answer, and the sound spreads like liquid fire all throughout my overexcited body. Then his tongue strokes mine, and I taste beer and sex. And I like it a whole lot.

  “Skye,” he breathes against my lips. “If I grab a condom from that drawer, is that a good thing or a bad thing?” He kisses me deeply after asking the question, as if giving me time to ponder it.

  His kisses are so distracting that I almost forget the question. His hand snakes down my body, teasing my thighs apart. And then his thumb brushes right over my clitoris.

  “Oh,” I gasp. And then I say it again and again as his fingers tease me senseless. I feel my body absolutely drench his hand with desire. I’m practically vibrating with excitement. And—yes—a condom would be a great idea right about now. But talking about it is too tricky.

  So I just reach over and yank the drawer open myself. There. Message delivered.

  Benito makes a happy sound. He kisses me very thoroughly one more time before finally sitting up. I hear the sound of a condom being ripped from the strip, and the drawer closing again. His back is to me as he suits up, and I close my eyes and take a deep breath because I’m having a moment of performance anxiety.

  I open my eyes to find Benito looking down at me. “Come here, honey,” he says softly.

  “Mmh, what?” I stammer.

  He moves until he’s sitting beside me in the bed. Then he crooks a finger. “Come here.” He grabs a pillow and shoves it behind his back, then leans against the headboard. His legs are bent in front of him.

  I don’t really know what he means for me to do, but I sit up anyway.

  “Over here,” he orders, and the bossy tone gives me a shiver. I like that he’s in charge. Trusting Benito has always been easy for me.

  He tugs my hand, indicating that he wants me in his lap. I throw a leg over to straddle him, and it’s awkward for a second. But then we’re face to face, and his warm brown eyes are right in front of me. And there’s love in them. “Hey. I don’t care what happens tonight.”

  “That is a lie,” I whisper, glancing down at his very hard penis, which looks engorged to the point of pain.

  He laughs. “Okay, parts of me care very much. However…” He runs a hand down my belly slowly, making me shiver, until his fingertips graze my mound. “My main goal is to make you feel good. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time.”

  “Why?” I have to ask. Honestly, making me feel good is a whole lot of trouble.

  He gives his head a shake, as if I’ve asked a ridiculous question. “Because when you look at me the way you’re looking at me right now, I feel like a superhero.”

  “Oh.” I’m pretty sure that Benito really is a superhero. But I keep this thought to myself, because he’s still touching me, and it’s very distracting. His fingertips dance across my breasts, then dip down to tease me. Just a brush across my lady bits, and I gasp at the daringness of it.

  Then he ducks his head and finds my nipple with his mouth, and he sucks. Hard.

  “Unggh.” I arch my back to offer my breast. And this pushes my pelvis forward until I’m grinding on him. Holy moly. I feel amazing—like I’m the kind of girl who can grip Benito’s shoulders and moan just because it feels good.

  He tortures both my breasts with his tongue. And then he tugs me forward until he can claim my mouth with his. Our kisses are deep and wild. He’s holding me in a tight embrace. I’ve never felt so safe and loved as I do right now.

  And I’ve certainly never been this turned on.

  That must be why I push my knees down into the mattress and lift myself off his lap. Ben groans into my mouth. And then he takes himself in hand and
teases me further, dragging his cockhead across the slick folds of my body.

  Feeling brave, I trap him where I want him and then I just go for it—lowering myself down, taking him inside my body one thick inch at a time.

  He lets out a whispered curse as I gingerly lower myself all the way down, until I’m full of him.

  And then we’re both quiet. We stare into each other’s eyes, and I can’t quite believe that we’ve actually arrived here. Benito inside me. I clench around him just to tell myself it’s real.

  “Fuck, Skye,” he whispers. “I’ve been waiting for you. For this.”

  “Me too,” I confess, although neither of us means it literally. But my heart has been waiting to feel like this—breathless and beautiful.

  Of course, now he’s expecting me to know what to do. And I don’t know if I like being in charge.

  Although it turns out that I’m not. Benito leans in to take my mouth in a kiss. And then he jacks his hips upward. All my nerves are dialed up to eleven, and it feels so urgently good that I need to move, too.

  “Yes, honey. Just like that,” he murmurs against my lips.

  I feed on this praise, and pick up the tempo. So long as Benito holds me close, I can forget the rest of the world exists. There’s just us and our heated skin and the delicious noises he makes as he exerts himself beneath me.

  “So good,” he says between kisses. “Take it just like that.”

  I don’t want it to ever end. I’m a sex goddess! I was born for this. Except my body is crying out for release, and I’m starting to tire. I’m frustrated in the best possible way. I want fireworks, and this is as close as I’ve ever been.

  “Come here.” Benito wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. My face lands in his neck, and I can feel his rapid pulse under my cheek. Then he rolls us onto our sides, skimming a hand between our bodies. His fingertips worship my skin, finding the most sensitive part of me. I whimper with longing, and squirm against him. “Kiss me, honey.”