Temptation (A Temptation Novel)

by Karen Ann Hopkins

  I had been feeling fairly certain that he would behave himself, especially since my big brother, his newest and best buddy, wasn’t far away in the house. And even though Sam was preoccupied, he still was here somewhere.

  So I wasn’t prepared when everything went to hell. He said in a raspy voice, “I’m going to help you forget him, Rose.”

  In a fluid motion that took less time than my eye blinking, he pounced, swiveling me around and crushing his mouth onto mine. I was so startled at first I didn’t react at all. I just numbly allowed him to kiss me. But the shock wore off quickly, followed by fury that he assumed he could do whatever he wanted with me. I started pushing on his chest with all the force I could get out of my little body. Hey, I was only five foot four. What could I do to the football star? I did manage to tightly seal my mouth shut, proud to say.

  Either he wasn’t getting the picture, or he didn’t care. Ignoring me, he continued his rampage of my mouth, not giving me a centimeter of space to even attempt a scream. I had ignorantly believed that if I made it clear to him that I didn’t want him kissing me, he’d back off. Now, with his hands roaming around on me, and hearing the muddled groan from his lips as they smashed onto mine, real fear started to take hold of my senses. I didn’t have the fraction of his strength, and realizing how helpless I really was sent a spasm of near hysteria coursing through my veins.

  Crap. He managed to get my mouth open a bit, and then his tongue started probing around. Once the panicked feeling took hold of me, all rational thought left my brain. It was replaced by a primal instinct that I didn’t even know I possessed until I bit down hard, immediately tasting the salty-iron taste of his blood in my mouth.

  He jerked back, still holding on to my shoulder, and I could hear him sucking at the corner of his mouth in the shadowed darkness. Expecting his wrath, I was preparing to scream my heart out, punch his stuck-up face and sprint to the house.

  Again he surprised me when he spoke in a calm voice with what sounded like amusement peppering his words. “Gosh, Rose, you are really wild.”

  He must’ve been the masochistic type. Instantly, I came to the horrid conclusion that my little bite job had only caused him to be more turned on to me.

  Now that my mouth was free of his, I growled, “I did not invite you to molest me.”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry about that—I just couldn’t resist you.”

  “Well, you better back off, or I’ll tell Sam about this,” I threatened in a low snarl.

  “Hey, calm down. I thought you were used to being kissed,” he said coyly.

  “Oh, I am, but not by you,” I snapped back between clenched teeth.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Rose, really I didn’t. I won’t try to kiss you again unless you invite me to. I promise.” Without seeing his face clearly, I imagined he was smiling, all sure of himself.

  “I won’t be doing any such thing. You can count on that,” I hissed, wrenching free from him and marching toward the house. I instantly felt better now that I was free from his hold. I figured I was getting the upper hand in the situation, but he kept up with me, staying so close on my heel that if I stopped he would have bowled me over.

  “Where are you going?” he demanded.

  A few more feet and I’d be in the house, safe again.

  I retorted without turning back, “To the bathroom—or do you have a problem with that?”

  Flinging the door open, I swerved to the left, into the little room. I attempted to slam the door, but his body blocked the way and impatiently, I glared up at him.

  “Do you want a soda?” he asked me, a frustrated expression pinching his face.

  He must be totally clueless, I decided, shouting back, “No, I don’t want a soda!”

  My yell caused the side of his mouth he wasn’t still sucking on to twitch slightly. I decided at that moment, as I ran my gaze over his tall, athletic frame, that it was probably a good thing that he had a sense of humor. After all, with most of the inhabitants of the house drunk or doing the wild thing, he could easily have forced me to do whatever he wanted and no one would have even noticed. Maybe in another lifetime I would have even fallen for him—maybe.

  He was definitely one of those type-A people who didn’t like to lose anything he’d set as a goal for his ambitions, so I wasn’t shocked when he amicably replied, “I’ll get you a Mountain Dew, then.” He sauntered away, and for a brief instant, I thought, he is persistent, then I slammed and locked the door securely.

  Breathing a huge sigh of relief, I leaned back for a moment to clear my head. Then I swung into action.

  I mumbled an “Eww” as I stepped over someone’s puke that had pooled up on the sea-blue tiled floor. I didn’t even know who owned the house, but I bet there was going to be a pair of very upset parents arriving home from vacation in a day or two.

  Reaching the sink, I pumped a big gob of liquid soap onto my hand, and running the water as hot as it would get, I vigorously rubbed the suds all over my face and neck to erase any trace of Hunter from my skin. I even dabbed the foam onto my tongue, zapping any evidence that his tongue had been in there.

  The chalky taste of the soap made me gag, and along with the smell of the puke, I started to feel sick. Somehow I managed to rinse my face without upchucking. The towel on the floor was just too disgusting to use, so I decided to drip-dry and hopped over the mess. Opening the door a crack to let some of the choking smoke in, which ironically was an improvement from the smell in the bathroom, I peeked out.

  The music was still blasting, and I sighed in relief seeing only a couple of girls sitting on the floor in the hallway, looking as if they were about to pass out. The coast was clear for the moment, luckily without any sign of Hunter.

  I knew I’d have to move quickly to get away from the house before he came back. Nimbly, I slipped out of the bathroom of horrors. In two long strides I grabbed the door handle, turned it and was back out in the fresh air in a matter of seconds.

  Putting my brain back into action, I figured my house was about three miles away. I could walk that easily, I rationalized. Besides, Sam deserved a real good scare when he discovered his little sister was missing. That’s what he got for leaving me alone with his jerky friend anyway.

  I still wasn’t free, though. After my eyes adjusted somewhat to the darkness, I slunk through the yard, dodging between trees as I went. Several kids were hanging out in the driveway among the parked cars, and my heart skipped a beat seeing them as I ducked down behind a bush. Hoping to get away without raising the curiosity of the teens, I made a final gamble that the darkness would shield me and ran for the roadway. I didn’t stop when I reached the pavement either, stretching my legs out to put as much distance between me and Party Central as I could.

  Finally, when the boom, boom of the music faded away, and I was surrounded only by the chirping night sounds of the country, I slowed to a walk. Breathing hard to catch my breath, I decided I was way too out of shape when I felt a cramp shimmer up my left thigh.

  Up until then, there hadn’t been any traffic on the road, which suited me fine. Now, though, I could hear the low rumble of an engine coming from behind. Briefly I worried that it might be Hunter looking for me. Quickly, I dismissed that idea, though, remembering he’d ridden to the party with us.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that it was a small red pickup truck that I didn’t recognize. Straightening up, and hoping the vehicle would pass by, I kept on walking, now with a slight limp due to the cramp. No such luck for me, I groaned inwardly when the truck slowed to a crawl alongside me.

  “Hey, sweetie—you need a ride?” a man’s voice called.

  With a sideways shift of my eyes, I judged that there were two middle-aged guys in the truck. I could only see the driver’s features, noting that his hair was buzzed and he had dark stubble on his rough ex-military–looking face. Could this night get worse?

  I thought I had been terrified when Hunter, a good-looking teenage guy, was
trying to make out with me. Now my mutilated naked body being dragged out of a quarry by a couple of cops in the middle of nowhere flashed through my mind. Thinking fast, I clutched my cell phone from my pocket, deciding to make a run for it to the brick rancher I’d just passed if I so much as heard the click of a truck door opening.

  Without looking at the truck, I replied in the most unfriendly voice I could spit out. “No, I’m fine.” It wasn’t easy to manage coherent words with the muscles strangled in my throat, and I guessed my attempt at meanness sounded pretty pathetic.

  “Your loss, beautiful,” the man said, sounding annoyed. But thankfully the truck sped up, leaving me alone on the side of the road. The tremors started in my heart and spread out with speed to my limbs until I was shaking almost violently.

  After a couple of minutes of walking, I began pulling myself together, especially when I realized I was almost to the intersection of the road I needed to take, a much quieter and, hopefully, safer route. Praying that no other cars would pass before I reached it, I willed my legs to move and flew across the pavement, not slowing until the road split where I hung to the right. I would have kept on running, but the burning in my lungs and the cramping in my leg wouldn’t let me. I slowed to a fast walk, trying to control my frenzied breathing.

  Hearing another car coming, I jumped the wide ditch without thinking and dived into weeds that were taller than my head. Lying on the damp, prickly ground, I held my breath, waiting for the car to pass. When it did, I rose, deciding as difficult as it would be to travel through, the safest place for me was hidden in the tangle of weeds and bushes parallel to the roadway.

  Determined to get home alive, I began trudging through the overgrown field in the direction of my house. Maddened, I hacked my way through the giant patches of briars, the skin on my bare arms and legs being constantly snagged by the sharp points until I could feel sticky blood smeared over most of my exposed body.

  Following a few minutes of torture, I began moving at a snail’s pace, taking the time to try to unhook the thorns before they tore up my skin any further. I could feel the stinging on my face, too. My suspicion that I had a huge scratch there was confirmed when I reached up to feel a long streak of blood welling up on my cheek. Great, now I’m going to be permanently scarred from this fiasco.

  As if hiking home through the man-eating field while trying to avoid being kidnapped by lunatics wasn’t enough, the clouds decided that was the time to open up and unleash their moisture. Rain fell to the ground in a soft sprinkling mist, touching the scratches and causing a hundred little stings to sizzle across my skin. After a few more minutes of walking in pain, I began to cry quietly.

  I thought I had reached my physical and emotional breaking point until I hooked my toe under a root and stumbled forward. Unable to catch myself, I crashed to the ground, my hands breaking the fall somewhat but being pierced by thorns in the process.

  Lying there on the sharp, muddy ground, I couldn’t keep the tears from gushing out of my eyes, trailing warmly down my face. I pulled my knees up to my chin and braced my head against them, rocking myself back and forth.

  I had been rescued from my suffering for most of the summer by Noah. Now he was gone, and my life was worse than ever. I missed him so desperately it chewed at my insides until there was nothing left anymore.

  Why had I been so stupid? I said no to him so that I wouldn’t lose the life I’d grown accustomed to, but after tonight, I could honestly say that my life sucked anyway. So why was I clinging so hard to it? At least if I’d become Amish, I would be with Noah, and he would be the one hugging and kissing me, instead of some stranger I didn’t even like. I wouldn’t be sitting here in a briar patch a couple of miles from home in the cold rain, bleeding.

  Shifting my weight to escape the sharp poke of a thistle into my hip, I let the grief take me, losing all perception of time, the minutes blurring together. I lay there on the cold, mushy earth, the weeds and stems jabbing into my body for quite a while. I couldn’t find the energy to move. I was too exhausted, and as the misty rain settled into the still, dark night, I listened to the nothingness of complete silence.

  My phone split the night air unexpectedly with its unwelcome rock tune, nearly stopping my heart. I fumbled awkwardly with my numb fingers trying to answer it quickly. My sheer focus was on making the noise stop. Without seeing the number, I answered, “Hello?”

  A pause, and then his voice, his glorious voice, came through the phone into my head. I pressed the phone tightly to my ear, not daring to breathe.

  “Rose—it’s Noah. How are you doing?” he asked softly, almost shyly.

  The question was funny under the circumstances. If I weren’t in so much discomfort, I probably would have laughed. But hearing his voice also brought on another emotion, guilt. My encounter with Hunter came trickling into my mind, bringing the tears again. In a muted whisper, I stuttered, “I’m…okay.”

  “What’s wrong? You don’t sound right.”

  My wall tumbled down at the worry in his voice. I cried in a rush of sloppy words, “I had to leave this party because this guy was bothering me…and everyone was drinking beer…and…it was so awful…” I trailed off with a gulp.

  “Where’s Sam?” he demanded in an angry voice.

  “He’s still at the party—up in a bedroom somewhere with his girlfriend,” I croaked, trying desperately to keep the crying to a minimum.

  “Where are you?” He sounded desperate. I suddenly regretted telling him the truth, but I couldn’t take it back now. So I answered honestly, “I’m sitting in a thorny field beside the road.”

  “Tell me your exact location, and speak clearly.”

  I had to focus my mind enough to think.

  “I’m on Stone House Road, a little ways from the bridge.”

  “Are you in that overgrown field in the curve of the road?”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, shaking my head happily that he knew where I was.

  “Don’t move. I’ll be there as quickly as I can manage.”

  Suddenly panic shot through me. “No! You’ll get into trouble,” I nearly shouted into the phone.

  An unnerving laugh came through the phone to me. “I don’t care about that. I’m coming to get you, and that’s the end of it.”

  “How will you get away?” I asked.

  He said impatiently, “My family is at the Weavers’.” Pause. “Rumor is already hitched up—so I’ll be there soon. Just don’t go anywhere…and, Rose?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you,” he said softly.

  “I love you, too,” I told him. Then his voice was gone, and the tingle of foreboding nagged at me as I stared into the shadowy grass. He was coming to get me, and I would see him again. Maybe even kiss him. Hugging my arms around myself, I sighed wistfully, thinking that I’d finally get to ride in that buggy of his.

  All was right with the world again.

  24

  Noah

  Priorities

  HANGING UP, I wasted no time, sprinting through the shed in a few long strides and stepping into the seat of the buggy. Steam was still rising off Rumor, blending into the misty rain that dropped from the sky, and I regretted for an instant that he had to go out on the pavement again. I dismissed the thought quickly, promising that I’d give him a good rubdown when we returned. He was a tough horse and could handle the extra work. What really mattered at the moment was Rose and getting her safely home.

  Flicking the reins with force, I asked Rumor to stretch out into a road trot and guided him down the driveway and onto the roadway. Within seconds, a car came up behind the buggy, only to whip out around us. The driver was obviously too impatient to maintain the slower speed for any amount of time.

  Once the car was out of sight, the night became dark and still again, with only the occasional whip-poor-will’s call piercing the quiet of the countryside. Thankfully, the mist had turned into the occasional soft drop of rain, and I reckoned that if Rose was dressed app
ropriately, she’d be all right waiting in the field until I arrived.

  My heart was beating furiously at the thought of seeing her again. We’d be alone for a little while, giving me the opportunity to hold her in my arms and kiss her. A small part of me was angry with her for getting herself into such a fix—and maybe a bit hurt that she hadn’t called me for help on her own, but all that wasn’t really important. Rose needed me and I’d never let her down. The way my body had reacted to hearing her voice—the pounding of my heart, the sweat that rose on my skin and my inability to breathe normally—said it all. I still loved Rose. And nothing in the world would change that fact.

  Somehow we’d make it work. Even if it meant that I’d have to turn away from the Amish. I would rather be with Rose and live the English way than be without her, living a lie with another woman.

  My mind made up, I was more anxious than ever to reach her and I snapped the reins again, asking Rumor for still more speed. We were fairly close now to the place I guessed she was hiding, the metal joists of the bridge just coming into view. Very soon, Rose would be with me—and I’d never let her go again.