by J. Lynn
The utter honesty in his voice made Summer’s knees feel weak. She looked up at him, breathed in his clean, spicy, scent, and then rose onto her toes, and for the first time in the twelve years they had known one another, she kissed him.
Seven
BLAKE WRAPPED HIS arms around Summer, fixing her to him. He let his tongue slip into her mouth, all the pent-up need for Summer bubbling to the surface and flowing over him. His hands moved into her hair, and he took control, doing what he did best. Summer released a low moan inside his mouth, causing every hormone in his already hard body to spike. He walked her toward the bed and pulled away enough to ask permission, but she crushed her lips back against his as though she needed him to breathe. He let his hands glide down her waist to her jeans and he unbuttoned them and pushed them to the floor. She kicked out of them and stood there, in nothing but a bra and panties, more beautiful than he ever thought a girl could look. He let his gaze travel down long enough to take her in, his pants growing uncomfortably tight, and then he went for his jeans. He slipped off his shirt in one fluid motion and kicked out of his jeans, his dick popping out of his boxers immediately.
Summer’s eyes crept over him slowly as though she were seeing him for the first time, and then her gaze locked on his dick, huge and hard and showing every bit of his want for her. Her eyes flashed back up, a hint of fear in them.
“Summer, we don’t have to—” But before he could continue, she pressed her lips to his and pulled him close.
“I’m ready.” She slipped out of her panties and bra and lay down on his bed, staring up at him as though he had all the answers in the universe. And damn if she wasn’t perfect.
Blake nodded, willing himself to pull his gaze from her long enough to grab a condom from his nightstand. He tore open the wrapper and slid on the condom.
He climbed onto her, preparing to say something romantic or deep, or something that hinted at the seriousness of what they were doing, but passion took over. He wanted to be inside her like he’d never wanted anything in his life. He kissed her lips, her neck, her collarbone, then ran his tongue down to her breasts, where he took turns sucking one nipple, then the other. Summer moaned loudly and he ran a hand over her stomach and slipped a finger inside her, relishing in the wetness. She was so ready to go.
Their kissing intensified, and Summer rolled him over, straddling his waist. She pulled him up closer to her, allowing her tongue to sweep from his mouth to his neck to his ear. It was too much. Blake gripped her hips. He was going insane. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he was going to blow it before the party began. He lay back, stretching his arms out behind him, and in the process felt his left hand connect with something hard, but then Summer positioned herself over him. “I want you inside me.”
Her words caused the last of his fear to dissipate. He gripped her hips and turned her over, their bodies aligning. He had just reached her, readying himself for insertion, when he smelled it.
Smoke.
He ignored the smell for half a second, then Summer pulled away, her face full of shock, then her gaze swept to the left. “Is that— Fire!” she screamed, jerking up in bed. The candle, which had a moment ago been burning innocently on his nightstand, was now spewing flames across his carpet.
Blake rushed out of his room, not stopping to get dressed, and straight into a crowd of people, Jamison at their center. “What up, brother?” His gaze traveled over Blake, a smile creeping across his face. “Nice.”
“What the fuck?” Blake ran through the crowd to the kitchen, attempting to hide himself, and grabbed the fire extinguisher. He returned to his room and sprayed the fire, which had now burned a solid portion of his carpet and blackened the front of his nightstand.
He stood up straight, breathing hard, his gaze traveling to Summer, who was still at the corner of his bed, staring at him as though he were a complete stranger.
Jamison and a few girls from the crowd stood in his doorway. One snapped a picture of Blake with her phone, but before she could take a step, Jamison snatched the phone from her, deleted the photo, and told her to get the hell out. “You good? Do you need me to do anything?” he asked Blake.
“No, it’s fine.”
Jamison closed the door and Blake’s gaze fixed on Summer. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She looked down uncomfortably, then walked over to get her bra and panties and jeans. “My shirt. It’s . . .” She pointed outside.
“Right.” Blake threw on his jeans and started for the door, but turned back. “You don’t have to leave. Don’t leave.”
Summer’s gaze fell from Blake’s, and he knew what she was going to say even before she spoke the dreaded words. “Blake . . . I don’t . . . I mean, this . . .” Her eyes lifted back to his. “I can’t.”
Blake opened his mouth to argue, but he could see it in her face, the new tension in her body. It was over. “I’ll take you home.”
“No, it’s okay. I drove here. If you could just grab my shirt.” She wouldn’t look at him. Had it been that horrible?
Blake studied her for another second, wondering how one minute everything in his world could be perfect, and the next it could be shot to hell. “Okay.” He grabbed her shirt from the kitchen, handed it over to her, and then she was gone.
Eight
SUMMER CLOSED HER car door and rested her forehead against the steering wheel, tears flowing even before she could get the key into the ignition. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being with Blake. It was that she enjoyed it too much. She knew as soon as they finished, he would want to go back to normal, to their friendship, but as soon as her lips met his, she knew everything had changed. All the emotions she had fought most of her life to ignore surged forward, refusing to be ignored any longer. She kissed him with every bit of hope and passion she had in her body.
And that was the moment she realized it was deeper than attraction. Deeper than feelings. She loved Blake. Maybe she always had. That horrifying realization was what jerked her away from him and the only reason she noticed the fire at all. She couldn’t sleep with him now or ever, because once she did she knew her heart would be his for good.
Summer was screwed. And not in the good way.
She parked outside her dorm, knowing she would likely be towed, but not caring, and went up to the second floor of her dorm building and down the hall to her room. Harper, her suitemate, had her door closed, signaling she was with someone. Summer stared at the door, wishing Blake was there with her. Already she felt the loneliness she had felt as child, and it had been only minutes since she left him. This was what she had tried to avoid.
Summer set her bag on her desk, flicked on the TV, and surfed through until she found ESPN. Sure enough, they were talking about tomorrow’s game against LSU. Blake’s face filled the screen, then it switched to him on the field, flashing stat after stat. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched. She lay back on her bed and pulled her pillow to her chest, wishing she could turn back time.
A SOFT KNOCK on the door startled Summer awake. She blinked at the TV still on in front of her. She had always been a light sleeper, waking to the smallest of sounds. She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes, listening to see if the knock was from her door or someone else’s. The knock came again, and she went to the door, still rubbing her eyes. What time was it?
She peeped through the peephole and stepped back, surprised to see Blake on the other side. Opening the door, she said, “What are you doing here? You have a game tomorrow.” Blake never stayed out late or drank on game nights. He was superstitious to a fault and spent every Friday night doing the exact same routine, scared that if he deviated, he would lose a game.
“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
Summer stepped away so he could come in and shut the door behind him. His gaze swept from her to the TV, his eyebrows scrunching together. “Is that ESPN?” He turned to her, waiting.
“Oh. Yeah, I must have hit the remote while I was slee
ping.”
Blake stared at her. He knew her too well for her to lie. “Were you watching . . . for me?”
She adjusted from one foot to the other, uncomfortably. “No, I wasn’t—No. Remote controls are absurd things. They change at the tiniest of pressure. There should be a study to—”
“Summer. Please, just be real.”
“Fine.” Summer tossed up her hands and sat down on her bed, crossing her legs. “I was watching you. So what?”
Blake glanced again at the TV, then to her. “Why?”
Of all the things they should be talking about right then . . . “Why does it matter? What are you doing here?”
“Why did you leave?” Blake asked, his face changing from curiosity to hurt. “Was it . . . ? I mean, I realize I’m not . . .”
Summer tilted her head. “It wasn’t you. Well it was, but not in the way you’re thinking.” She dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to have this conversation.
“Then, what?” Blake pressed.
Summer sighed. “Can’t we just forget it happened and go back to how things were before?” Even as she said the words, she knew it was impossible. What happened changed them, their relationship, forever.
“Is that what you want? Honestly? To just forget it happened.”
Summer opened her mouth, prepared to spout out the lie above all lies, when she caught the look on Blake’s face. She was hurting him. One of only two people in the entire world that she cared about and she was hurting him. “No,” she finally answered, her shoulders hunching forward as if to protect her heart.
“The fire?”
Summer laughed. “No, but I think that topped the list of most embarrassing sexual experiences ever.”
Blake leaned back against her desk and crossed his arms, forcing his biceps to flex against the arms of his T-shirt. Summer drew an unsteady breath. “Are you just not attracted to me, then?”
At that, she broke into near hysterics.
“Dammit, Summer, this isn’t funny.”
She smiled. “Have you seen yourself? Every girl on our campus is attracted to you. Likely every girl across the country with a freaking TV.” Her smile faded as she took in Blake’s icy expression.
“I didn’t ask about them. I asked about you.” He refused to break eye contact, forcing Summer to answer honestly.
She contemplated for only a second, and then the words were tumbling out so fast, she didn’t have time to breathe before she’d confessed everything. “I’m so completely drawn to you that I’m petrified I’ll never be attracted to another guy again.”
Blake started toward her, all the worry from before replaced with his trademark intensity. “Then why are we talking?”
Nine
SUDDENLY ALL THE fear Blake had felt before disappeared, and it was just he and Summer, and he wasn’t nearly close enough. He reached her in one step, took her face in his hands, and crushed his lips to hers. For a moment they became lost in each other, all the years of friendship and trust and longing, pressed into that single kiss.
Blake pulled away to look at Summer, desperate to have her in his arms again, but he knew something had rattled her before, and he didn’t want to push her. “We can stop if you want,” he said, though every bone in his body begged for her to say no.
Summer’s flushed face turned up toward his, her lips swollen from their kiss. He trailed his thumb over her lips, his gaze dropping, before returning to her eyes. A war seemed to be going on within her head, her eyes telling a different story than her body.
“What is this really about?” Blake asked. “Is it the sex part? We don’t have to do anything, you know that.”
She shook her head.
“What, then? Is it your mom? Because I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes found the floor and her bottom lip shook. “Not yet, but someday you will.”
Blake lifted her chin. “I won’t promise you that we’ll never be apart, but I can promise you that I’ll never leave. No matter where I am, my heart will be with you.”
Her gaze settled on his, so full of tears and sadness that he ached to pull her to him and never let go. But he knew Summer too well to try to talk through this. Not now. She’d been devastated when her mom left. He knew, he was there, watching from his bedroom window as she sat on her front steps day after day, waiting for someone who would never return. That sort of broken trust couldn’t be repaired by words alone. He would have to show her.
Blake stepped away from her and pulled back her covers. “Sleep with me.”
Her eyes widened. “Blake, I’m—”
“Not sex. Sleep with me. Let me hold you. Let me help you forget.”
Her gaze traveled to the bed and back to him. “But I said I would.”
He laughed. “So did I, but maybe today isn’t the day. Or maybe we’ll never have that day. For now, just sleep with me.”
Summer hesitated for a second longer, before crawling under the covers and sliding over to make room for him. Blake contemplated taking off his jeans, but he didn’t want her to think he was anything but genuine, so he slipped under the covers fully clothed and pulled her to him. There was no sound in the room, only the easiness of her breathing against his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair.
Blake had never been afraid of anything in his life, but he was afraid in that moment. He was afraid that the one person he loved would never trust him enough to love him back. Blake had suffered loss, just like Summer, but he was a baby when his parents died. He had no memory of that pain. Unlike Summer, who watched her mother walk away and never come back.
A surge of emotions washed over him at the thought of what she had been through. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and before his fear could stop him, he whispered, “I love you, Summer Rain. I always have.”
Summer sat up to look at him, a small smile on her face. “What did you say?”
“I said that I love you.”
She climbed on top of him and kissed him long and hard as though she were starving and had finally found sustenance. After several long minutes, she sat up, straddling his waist, a beautiful, bright smile on her face. “I love you, too.”
CLOUDS SETTLED OVERHEAD, and Blake stared up at the sky from the huddle, praying the rain would stay away a little longer. He had played in the rain plenty of times, but LSU was up three, and there was less than a minute on the clock. He needed to bring this game home. He half listened as Coach Collins went over their next play again. They were fourth and short and had called a time-out to decide whether to kick or go for it.
Blake glanced behind the huddle to the stands, searching desperately for Summer. Even though they didn’t have sex last night, they did sleep together for the first time as a couple. He knew sex would come, but for now his heart and soul felt as though it had finally come home. Coach Collins said something to him and he nodded, half paying attention. He searched the stands again in vain, knowing she hated seeing him play. He had just resolved himself that she wasn’t there, wasn’t coming, when his gaze caught on a bright red pullover seven rows back and center. He squinted, Coach Collins now yelling obscenities at him to focus. He wasn’t sure, it sort of looked like her, but it could be anyone. And then a smile stretched across her face and she lifted her hands high in the air, clapping and cheering.
Blake smiled and ducked back into the huddle. “We’re going for it.”
Coach Collins stopped talking to look at him. “Are you sure?”
Blake glanced up at Summer, then back to his coach. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Coach called the play, and Blake took to the field with his team, his body charged with excitement. He could do this. He would do this. They set up, and then they were in motion. He backed up and stared down field for his receiver. He was open, but LSU’s defensive backs were closing in. Blake fired the ball downfield, praying, begging that it made contact. Time seemed to tick by in long, excruciating seconds an
d then—
“Touchdown!” The crowd erupted all around him. “Georgia wins!”
Blake found Summer amid the chaos, standing and cheering. He grinned. She’d been his good luck charm after all, and maybe, if she would let him, he could be hers, too.
About the Author
MELISSA WEST writes young adult and new adult novels for Penguin/Intermix and Entangled Teen and Embrace. She lives outside of Atlanta, GA with her husband and two daughters and spends most of her time writing, reading, or fueling her coffee addiction.
She holds a B.A. in Communication Studies and a M.S. in Graphic Communication, both from Clemson University. Yeah, her blood runs orange.
Connect with Melissa at www.melissawestauthor.com or on Twitter @MB_West.
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Grind
TRACY WOLFF
I CAN’T BELIEVE I won. Even more, I can’t believe I won here. In Taos. The place I left three years ago, so desperate to escape that I couldn’t wait until dawn. I drove out of town—bruised, battered, bleeding—in the middle of the night, blocking out everything but my need to get away. Even Dyani. Especially Dyani.
I was terrified that if I let myself think about her, I’d never leave. And I had to go, had to get away. Before I ended up dead. Or worse, just like my old man.
But now I’m back, and it all feels . . . surreal. This trip. My runs on the mountain. The medal that is even now burning a hole in my pocket.
Surreal, because I’m here.
Surreal, because she isn’t.
I’ve never been in Taos without her next to me, and the need to call her, to reach out, is a wild agony within me. I reach for my phone, for the name and contact info I’ve transferred from phone to phone numerous times in the last three years. I start to hit call, so desperate for the sound of her voice that I no longer care that doing so will mess up her life—and my own.
