Fireworks

by Sarina Bowen

  Now this is the Zara I remember. “Omigod. You're scarier than Gage.”

  “Not by half! But I can’t take another twelve years of Benito moping. If you two don’t work out somehow, that will be sad. But you have to give it a try! No two people get as moony around each other as you two. You don’t throw something like that away.”

  I open my mouth to protest that I’m never moony, except I think she’s right. About me anyway. But that's the whole problem. “Benito isn’t moony. And he doesn’t mope over me. He has dirty sex with Jill Sullivan instead. Just like the last time I left.”

  Zara tilts her head and thinks that through. “I’ll give you that the whole Jill thing is stupid. He doesn’t care about her and shouldn’t have bothered. But what do you mean about the last time you left?”

  “Before! In high school.” Not that I really want to get into it.

  And Zara still looks blank. “Ben and Jill didn’t make the beast with two backs in high school. In spite of my fervent prayer that he'd make her easier to live with.”

  “He didn’t? But what about…” It’s embarrassing to reveal that I still feel the sting twelve years later. “Grad prom. He took her and not me.”

  Zara's jaw flops open. “No!”

  “Yes.”

  “No! He really did not. I promise. I was there when the whole thing went down. And Benito didn’t get near that dance.”

  “Yes he did,” I argue. And then—for the first time ever, I stop to consider my source. It was Gage who had told me why Benito stood me up.

  I let out a gasp.

  “He got arrested, Skye. He spent the night in the holding cell.”

  My lungs seize up, and my eyes fill with tears. Because now I realize that Jimmy Gage did even more damage to my teenage psyche than I ever imagined.

  “Oh my god,” Zara whispers. “Did Gage tell you Ben went to the dance without you?”

  I nod, choking on unshed tears. And even now it’s difficult to rearrange the beliefs that I’ve held close to my heart for so many years. Benito’s betrayal struck me deeply. I’ve been carrying it around for years.

  “I’m so sorry, Skye,” Zara says. “It’s all my fault.”

  But it isn’t. It’s Gage’s fault. And twelve years later, two grown women are still feeling shame over things that he did.

  Zara and I look at each other, and our faces hold twin expressions of pain.

  Thirty-Nine

  Benito

  It’s three in the morning when I tiptoe into my darkened apartment. There is no one in the living room since my sister went home hours ago, after Skye had insisted she was fine and just needed sleep.

  I don’t want to disturb Skye’s rest. So I lock up my gun and then remove most of my clothing in the bathroom. My face in the mirror looks tired, but that’s really okay with me. We spent the last few hours booking Sparks and Gage and collecting evidence. Sparks had several firearms in his home, one of which was unlicensed. And Gage had all that cash he won’t be able to account for.

  The unrelated felonies are piling up. Now we just need to nail ’em on the bigger charges.

  The bikers who dropped the drugs off with Sparks got picked up, too. If I’m very lucky, they’ll cooperate in the morning when their lawyers arrive. And the motorcycle shop owner, too.

  Everyone lawyered up right away. So the investigation will drag out. But that’s okay. We’ll get there. I can be patient now that four criminals are wearing orange jumpsuits.

  I can’t cure drug addiction, but I can get unsafe product off the streets. It’s not a bad day’s police work.

  When I’m ready for bed, I move quietly into the bedroom. Skye is sleeping on her side, her silky hair arrayed on the pillow. I slide into the bed, propping myself up on an elbow to look down at her.

  I just spent ten minutes trying not to wake her up. But I can’t stop myself from running a hand down her arm, just to feel the warmth of her body. I know she’s okay. But I’m going to have nightmares for a while where I’m picturing Gage putting Skye in a headlock. Just the idea makes me want to hurl.

  Skye shifts in her sleep, and then her eyes fly open.

  “Easy,” I whisper. “It’s just me.” I scoop her up and pull her close. “Sorry to wake you up. But I need to hold you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She nods, tucking her face against my shoulder. “I’ll be okay. My mind is blown, though.”

  “He’s finally behind bars.”

  “That’s not why,” she whispers. “Zara helped me figure something out tonight.”

  “Hmm?” I nose into her hair and inhale the sweet scent of her shampoo. I feel better already.

  “The night of grad prom,” she says. “Gage told me you took Jill Sullivan to the dance.”

  I yank my head up and look down at her. “What?”

  “That’s what he said when he came home. To explain why you never showed.”

  And I’m stunned. “You thought I just abandoned you?”

  “He was very convincing. He gave details. And you weren’t there, Ben! I couldn’t think of anywhere else you’d be!”

  “In jail!”

  “I know that now,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have believed him.”

  “Jesus. Don’t apologize for something that fucker did. He’s done hurting us. I just can’t believe that happened.” My mind is reeling as I try to remember all the events of that night. “Zara was supposed to explain.”

  “She feels terrible,” Skye says, sitting up. “She saw Gage come home and talk to me, saw me get upset. She just assumed he’d told me he put you in jail.”

  I sit up, too, feeling twitchy again. “God, I should have clocked him tonight when I had the chance. But I wanted to be the bigger man.”

  “You are,” she says, stroking my cheek. “But now you know why I kind of lost my mind today at the rental counter.”

  “Oh, fuck.” Jill again. “That’s…Jesus.” Words fail me. I can’t even excuse myself. Because everything Jill said was pretty much true. Except that Skye probably assumed we’d been carrying on for twelve years.

  I let out an unhappy groan. “I don’t know how to explain myself right now. Except to say that the Jill thing was casual.”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself.” She sighs. “I wish I could unhear it, though. I’ll probably always wonder if I’m sexy enough for you.”

  “Yes! God.” I wrap both arms more tightly around her. “I have it so bad for you.”

  “I’m just jealous,” Skye grumbles. “Everyone has more experience than I do. And, fine—I spent the afternoon imagining that the secret sex room in your soul is a lot like Penn Station at rush hour.”

  This hits my funny bone, and I actually laugh. “It’s not Penn Station. I guess it’s more like a stop on a commuter rail line. Active but infrequent.”

  Skye snorts, and puts her face in her hands. “We really aren’t the same. I don’t want to crucify you for having a sex life. But it’s hard for me to understand.”

  “I know,” I say, putting a hand on her knee. “I get it.”

  “Do you?” She lifts her perfect chin and studies me. “It took a lot of trust for me to go there with you. To get so…” She clears her throat.

  “Naked?” I suggest.

  “Vulnerable,” she corrects. “And naked. It’s kind of the same thing for me. I was feeling pretty good about us. And then along comes Jill with her request for, uh, your handcuffs.”

  And now I might die of embarrassment. That was just a one-time thing. That was her idea. These denials are right there on my tongue. But they’re not actually the point. “Skye, I need to show you something. Come here.” I get up.

  “Is it your handcuffs?” she asks drily. “I’m not up for that right this second.”

  “No, it’s better.” I kneel on the bed and gather the comforter around her. “Put your arms around me.” When she does, I scoop her off the bed, comforter, sheet and all.

  “Where are we goin
g?”

  “You’ll see in a minute. Hold on.”

  Skye is not a petite girl, which I love. But it does make the grand gesture more difficult. She has to cling to me carefully so that I can carry her through the bedroom doorway and out into the living room. I cross to the sliding glass door. “Open that, will you?”

  She fumbles for the latch and then slides it open. The screen door, too. “What’s out here?”

  The deck boards of my balcony are freezing under my feet. It isn’t balcony weather, which is why we haven’t come out here before. But this is important. “Look.”

  Skye swivels her head and then gasps. “It’s here? The same chair?”

  Sure enough, our double-wide deck chair is the only furniture on my balcony. “It’s the same one. I couldn’t ever stand the thought of getting rid of it.” I bend my knees and set her down on it. “Move over.”

  She scoots. I close the door behind us. And a few seconds later we’re sitting side by side on the deck chair, the way we always did before. Skye pulls the covers around us and puts her head on my shoulder. “It’s like time travel, Ben. This is amazing.”

  “No, it’s better.” I wrap my arms around her and squeeze. “I never got to hold you like this, even though I wanted to.”

  “I wanted you to,” she says. “But everything was so complicated.”

  She’s right, it was. We weren’t ready to be the kind of couple I wanted us to be. “We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

  Skye hugs me even more tightly. I get a smile as she tips her head back against me. “My God, the stars!” It’s a clear night, and the moon has already set. The great, dark bowl above us glitters with the light of the milky way. “I forgot how bright and beautiful they are in Vermont.”

  We’re quiet together for a moment, and I stroke the soft skin of her arm. “Honey, I wouldn’t have fooled around with Jill if I’d known there was a chance you’d come back to me. I’m not going to try to explain it. Casual sex has always been easier for me than for you, I expect.”

  “I know. It’s okay.” She kisses my chin.

  “The point is this—I spent many more hours sitting on this chair wishing you were here with me than I ever spent in her bedroom. Or anyone else’s for that matter. With you, there’s no such thing as casual. The fire I feel for you won’t ever go out. ”

  Her response is to lean in and kiss my neck. Slowly. Leisurely. Soft lips caress my skin. And a warm tongue tastes me.

  I make a low groan as my body responds to her, as it always has. And always will. “If you keep doing that, we’re going to have to finally christen this chair.”

  She smiles against my skin. Then she slowly licks the edge of my mouth, and I can’t wait anymore. I turn my head and claim her mouth in a real kiss.

  And now my teenage fantasies come to life. This is it right here—Skye is kissing me on our chair. Her hot mouth teases mine. Then she moves on to worship my neck, and then my chest after I shrug off my T-shirt to encourage her.

  I’m living my best life as she kisses her way across my pecs. I wind her hair around my hand and sigh. It’s hard not to whisper all the dirtiest desires in my heart. Skye is exploring me at her own speed, and I don’t want to push her. But my dick is aching as she runs a thumb slowly down my abs, and then skims her knuckles along the sensitive skin of my lower belly.

  I try not to gasp as she reaches inside my boxers for my cock, and then swipes her tongue across the head. I make a hungry sound, though. Who could help it?

  Blue eyes flick upward toward mine as she tentatively slides me inside her mouth. “J-Jesus,” I stammer, clenching my legs. “That’s…ungh.”

  When I was eighteen, I’d thought about this every day. Several times a day. I never once expected it could actually happen. Her tongue strokes my shaft, and the pleasure is almost too intense.

  “You kill me, you know that?” I say in a strangled voice. “You’re all I need.”

  She releases me and lays her face on my hip. “Even if I don’t know what I’m doing?”

  “Like I care. Does anyone, really? Come up here and let me kiss you.”

  Skye moves. To my great excitement, she kicks off the flannel shorts she’s wearing to reveal nothing beneath them.

  My fantasies are living large tonight. Eagerly, I kick my boxers off, too.

  She straddles me, and I pull the comforter up around her shoulders. Then I lift the T-shirt she’s wearing off her body.

  “It’s cold,” she yelps.

  “Come closer. We’ll keep each other warm.” I take her mouth in a kiss that goes wild right away. We are nothing but heated mouths and thrusting tongues. My erection is trapped against her soft body. We’re cocooned together in the cool night, and I’ve literally never been happier. “Fuck, honey.” I fill my hands with her breasts and moan. “Let me go find a condom, before I burst.”

  “I’m covered,” she breathes, kissing me again. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  My balls tighten with excitement. It’s unlike me not to be cautious about unprotected sex. But I’ve been very safe up until now. And Skye’s eagerness is like a gift she gives both of us. If this is the moment when my love—and her bravery—burn through all her fear, then I’m going to let it happen.

  “You are so amazing to me,” I whisper between kisses. “Come here and let me love you.”

  She lifts her body, and I line myself up. And then her slick heat is enveloping me as she takes me inside. I let out a groan so loud that it probably startles the owls in the trees. There is nothing between us at all. Not even twelve lost years. Our mouths lock together without missing a beat. And, slowly, we begin to move against each other.

  The chair creaks. I have to concentrate on holding myself in check. The breathy sounds she makes as she rides me are practically enough to bring me to climax. Forget the slide of her breasts against my heated skin and the pulse of my happy cock.

  I’m such a goner.

  Then something on Skye’s right snags her attention. She looks down at me again, and I lift my chin for a kiss. She smiles, and it’s almost bashful.

  “You good?” I pant, my fingers fanning out on her perfect ass.

  “Yes. But…” She glances to the side again, and then quickly returns her gaze to mine. “I can see us.”

  “Oh.” My lust-addled brain takes a second to catch on. “Our reflection?” The lights are out inside the house, so I suppose the sliding glass door might behave like a mirror.

  “Yes.” She pauses, her hands in my hair. “It’s…”

  “Hot?” I guess. Then I chuckle. “Do you not like it?”

  “No, I do like it.” She squeezes her eyes shut and then opens them again. “Is that weird?”

  “Fuck, no. Sit up.” I lever us both into a sitting position, and I put one foot down on the deck. “Look now.”

  Skye turns her head toward the door, and I fill my hand with her breast, knocking the comforter away. Then I lean down and take her nipple into my mouth, while my hand skims every inch of her skin that I can reach.

  She gasps, and her body clenches around me.

  “That’s right,” I whisper, kissing her neck. “There’s nothing more beautiful than you when you’re turned on.” I roll my hips, and she wraps her arms around me.

  But I can’t do my best work when I’m sitting on the edge of the chair like this. “Lay back, honey.” I nudge her off of me. It hurts to lose her, but it’s only temporary. I arrange her on her back, her head on the comforter at the wrong end of our chair.

  She covers her breasts against the sudden chill.

  “Look now,” I order, covering her sweet body with mine. I hook an arm under one of her thighs and then fill her. We both groan. “Watch,” I pant, moving inside her.

  It’s exquisite. I bite my lip just to feel a pinch of pain. “Wrap your legs around me,” I beg. When she does, I steal a single glance at the glass door to see what Skye sees.

  And it’s a mistake. The view of our coupling m
akes me suck in a breath. Skye’s long legs are clutching my body, and her chest is heaving. Her breasts bounce as I fuck her.

  “Got to come, honey,” I say through gritted teeth. If not now, then soon. I can’t take the sight of all that beauty underneath me. I close my eyes and lock all my muscles in one last desperate attempt to stave it off.

  That’s when Skye moans and clutches me. I grind against her and she cries out. For me. And I almost let out a yell of victory as I chase my own joy.

  Forty

  Skylar

  Waking up is hard to do.

  It didn’t used to be difficult. In New York I bounce right out of bed and scurry off to work. But there are a couple of factors at play here in Vermont.

  First, I was up ’til all hours having porch-chair sex.

  Second, Benito’s warm, naked body is pressed against mine in the bed. He’s hit the snooze button twice already. But neither of us can let go and get up.

  “Urgh,” he says, his face in the pillow.

  “Yeah,” I agree with a sigh. “But I’m going to shower now. I have to prepare for the press conference.”

  “Dere-mugh-been-perf-m-phone,” he says.

  “What?”

  He turns his face away from the pillow, and I get today’s first view of his warm brown eyes. “There are seventeen messages on my phone. I guess I’d better get to work, too.”

  Neither of us moves.

  “Count of three?” I suggest.

  “One,” he says.

  “Two.”

  “Two and a half.” He grins.

  “I love you.” It just falls out of my mouth.

  Benito’s eyes get soft and hazy. “I love you, too, honey. Always have.”

  “I know it’s complicated. I have this job in another city. I probably have to go back to it soon. But…”

  He holds up a hand. “We’ll figure it out. Not this morning, but eventually. It’ll all work out.”

  “Okay,” I say softly.

  “It won’t be easy for me to get a job in New York,” he says. “I’ve got an awfully fractured resume for a narcotics officer. Short stints everywhere. But I could try. Or I could beg the DEA for my job back, with a transfer to the New York office. They’d probably say no, and the hours would suck but…”