After class, Blake walked me to Physics as usual. We passed Rachel in the hall and she grinned when she saw us holding hands. “Hey, guys.”
Blake nodded once, his ever-observant eyes tracking the crowd around us.
“Hey,” I said. “How was your holiday?”
Rachel shrugged, causing the curly red ponytail draped over her shoulder to shift. “It was all right. Mom burned the turkey. Again. But they got me a car.”
I squealed. “A car?”
“Yeah. It’s no Beamer, but it’s pretty nice. Come see it after school.”
I agreed, guilt nipping at me that I had been so wrapped up in Blake over the break that I hadn’t even talked to my best friend.
Blake and I walked on and I noticed for the first time how many friends he really had. He waved to his friend, Jesse, and they tossed insults back and forth as we passed. Then we ran into Jesse’s little sister, Leta, then his other friend, Micah, who was with a tall guy I’d met briefly at the Christmas party.
“Dee, you remember my bud, Micah, and Moose Boy.”
The stranger’s gold-green eyes sparked with amusement. “Name’s Trace, Hot Rod.”
Blake laughed, deep and loud, and the sound hugged my heart.
“Hot Rod?” I asked. “I can imagine where that came from, but . . . Moose Boy?” I turned my attention back to Trace.
“I just moved here from Alaska. These two numbskulls think it’s funny to make fun of the indigenous wildlife.”
I grinned, liking this guy. He was fun-natured, obviously smart. And good-looking, too. Though he had nothing on Blake’s rough, storm-like appeal.
We moved on before the warning bell and Blake got me to class on time. He pressed a kiss to my lips, his breath whispering out across my skin. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
He turned to go then stopped. “So, think you’ll reconsider dumping that grease monkey guy for me?”
His grin made my heart stop then flutter madly like a moth at a flame. “Never.”
“Really? Why not?” He was taking steps backwards as he talked. I knew he was going to be late to class.
“Because . . .” He was several feet from me now, so I raised my voice. “He’s special.”
Blake
The winter passed in a blur. My life had become consumed by Delilah Jackson and our stolen moments together. Her sweet, clean scent, her laugh, the way she looked into my eyes like she truly understood me, even when I tried to hold back.
She really was my princess. I didn’t just call her that for fun. My perfect little princess, who was beginning to mean way too much to me.
Jesse, Micah, Trace and I had gone out a couple of times to shoot the shit, and I still worked at the Super Lube, but otherwise, I spent every second I could with Delilah. At the beach, out to eat, movies, bundled up for a picnic at the park, even though it was too damn cold . . . making out in my car. But, I’d never let it go too far. I wanted to, God, how I wanted to. She had me burning up with lust. But, I’d stuck to my guns, keeping her virginity intact until I could give her what she deserved.
Though I wasn’t sure that would ever happen.
Tonight, the first night of Spring Break, as I let myself back into my darkened house after one of our dates—ice cream from Sonic and lots of kissing—I wondered if she’d ever get sick of me . . . of the snide looks other people gave her when she was with me, the lurking feeling that we always had to hide in public, the whole deal. She said no, but I had a hard time believing her.
Stale cigarette smoke, quiet hopelessness, and anger greeted me as soon as I closed the door, shutting myself in with the ugliness that was home.
“Blake.”
That’s all my dad said, but the contempt lacing his voice had the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.
I flipped on the entryway light, illuminating a portion of the living room, and saw the trash strewn across the coffee table, along with several empty beer cans. My father’s gaunt, miserable, hate-filled face shone in the dim light. He suddenly looked like a tired, angry old man and I realized how impossibly hard he’d taken my mother’s death. But I also understood that gave him no excuse to drink himself into the grave and spew venom on everyone within spitting distance.
He clambered to his feet, a bit wobbly. “Where the fuck have you been? Huh, boy?” He approached me and all I could smell was old sweat and older liquor.
I slipped off my leather jacket and hung it on my mom’s old coat rack. “Out.”
He was suddenly in my face. “Out where? Or maybe I should ask, out with who?”
I narrowed my gaze, sensing something was off. “Just out.”
“Well, funny, I heard from some of the guys down at the bar that you’re sniffing around the Sheriff’s slutty little daughter.”
I inhaled, trying to calm myself. What was between Delilah and I was private. Not for public consumption, and definitely not for him to dirty up with his filthy mouth. “I said, I was out. The rest is none of your business.” Fists clenched, I spun to get away from him before I did something I’d regret, but he suddenly had my arm in a vice-like grip.
“I’m not done talking to you.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m done listening.”
His grip tightened, burning his fingerprints into my flesh. “You stay away from her, Son. That little heifer is just slummin’ it with you and that’ll only cause trouble. No split-tail is worth that.”
Lava hot shame flowed through me, slow and thorough. It crept into every crevice of my soul and began to eat away at the light that Delilah had planted.
I yanked my arm away, fighting mad, but not willing to go there with him now. He was obviously drunk—though when wasn’t he lately? “You don’t talk about her like that. You know nothing. Nothing.” I shoved my finger into his chest, pressing until he flinched. “You don’t get to talk about her. Don’t even speak her name.”
I hurdled past him and slammed back out the front door, letting the unseasonably cold, frozen night beat my exposed skin with pelts of sleet. I jogged to my Camaro and sped off, my father’s words chasing me no matter how fast I drove.
I ended up in Delilah’s neighborhood, as if her beauty was a beacon in my darkness. I parked across the street from her house and glanced down at my phone, contemplating texting her.
But she beat me to it. Thanks for the ice cream xoxo
You’re welcome. I sent it, then added, Goodnight sweetheart xo
A few moments passed as I watched her bedroom window, wondering what she was doing. What she was wearing. Remembering how she smelled.
Is something wrong? she finally texted back.
How did she know me so well? Why?
You never call me sweetheart
A smile broke through my frown. OK. Goodnight Princess
A dim light came on in her room and I held my breath. My phone rang. “Hello?”
“What’s wrong, Blake?”
I sighed. “Nothing.”
“Why won’t you tell me?”
I saw her move behind her curtains and my heart yearned to go to her. “Just a bad night with my dad.”
“Oh.” She paused a moment and disappeared from the window. “What happened?”
I couldn’t tell her. I didn’t want her to know my father had spoken about her like that. “We just fought. Same stuff, different day. Don’t worry about it.”
“Still. I’m sorry.” Her voice got soft and dreamy. “I wish I could see you. You sound so sad, I want to hold you.”
My heart lurched. “You can.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look out your window, Princess.”
A second later, the blinds shifted and her little face peered out. I still had my headlights on, so I knew she could see my idling car. “Oh,” she said again. “You came here?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I dunno.” But I did. I just needed to be in her stratosphere to erase some of the pain.
�
��I’m coming out,” she said.
“No.”
“What? Why not?”
“It’s freezing out here, Princess. Stay in your warm bed. I’ll go home so you can sleep.”
The line went silent. “Come up here.” Her voice was nearly a whisper, laced with uncertainty.
I hesitated. “No, it’s okay—”
“Blake.”
“What?”
“Please.”
Breath clogged in a hard knot in my throat. I’d never been in her yard, much less her house. I only knew the way and which bedroom was hers because she’d told me once, and her home was as fancy and grand as I’d imagined. Just as out of my league as I knew it would be. I shouldn’t go up. It was asking for more than trouble. It was a heartbreak waiting to happen. Still, I couldn’t stay away from her, no matter how hard I tried.
I killed the engine and cut the lights. I heard her soft intake of breath in the quiet. I stepped out of the car and peered up at her window. I could feel her eyes on me. Sweet, assessing. I shivered a bit in the cold air, wishing I’d thought to grab my jacket when I left.
“You look cold,” she said. “Hurry up.”
I swallowed. “Where should I go?”
Movement shuffled on the other end. “Go to the side door by the garage. I’ll let you in.”
I headed that way, my feet crunching on the gravel, then the nearly frozen grass. She was waiting for me when I got there. By unspoken agreement, we hung up at the same time and she quietly flipped the locks and cracked the door open. She ushered me inside. “Follow me,” she whispered.
I trailed her through a big open kitchen, a silent living room, and up a large staircase. Even in the dark, I could tell her house was decorated with professional precision. It screamed money, prestige. With her little hand gripping mine, she led me down a hallway until we reached the room with a small lamp still burning.
She yanked me inside and closed the door, locking it behind us.
I let my gaze sweep over her bedroom, overcome by her essence as it wrapped around my bruised heart. Her rumpled, soft-looking bed, made with cream and baby blue sheets that matched her eyes. Delicate little porcelain figures decorated a shelf next to her closet, which was propped open, a pile of clothes on the floor.
I finally faced her, unsure what to say. What to do. I felt so out of place, my hands were sweating. “Nice house,” I finally whispered.
Shrugging, she studied me, as if to gauge my feelings. “It’s okay. Personally, I think it’s a bit much. But my mom’s all about appearances as the county judge.”
She seemed to sense my growing apprehension. Gently, she cupped my face and leaned up on tiptoe to kiss me. The fighting anger from earlier vanished as reassurance and comfort washed through me. Her hands moved around my waist as she hugged me close.
“You’re freezing.” She snuggled closer, as if to warm me.
I shrugged and let myself sink into her. This, I realized, was why I’d come. She was my dream that had come true.
We stood like that for a long time. Her sweetness surrounded me, a bubble of peace enclosing us. Finally, she peeked up into my face. “You all right?”
“I am now.”
Her gaze lassoed mine and I couldn’t look away. She didn’t have to call me a liar, I knew she didn’t believe me. Slowly, so slowly it seemed like a dream, her fingers found their way under the edge of my T-shirt to caress my back.
I didn’t move, just held her tight as she worked her way around to my stomach. My chest.
She peered up into my face. Silent. Neither of us spoke as she trailed her hands down to my jeans. I sucked in a breath when she unsnapped the top button. Her eyes sought mine again, as if for reassurance.
I leaned down and kissed her with all the love I had. I poured it into her, hoping against hope that she could feel it.
She drew my shirt off and tossed it across the room, letting herself touch my pecs and trace my biceps.
“Dee . . .”
“Sssshhh.” She placed a finger to my mouth. A smile was flirting with her lips as she bent and kissed my chest.
God.
My hands found themselves in the thickness of her hair, then down to her throat. I placed my lips to her pulse and gently bit.
She sucked in a breath then drew back and pulled off her nightgown to stand before me in nothing but little pink panties.
She reached for me and our fingers interlaced, then she guided my hand to her breast. Her eyes were begging me. And I didn’t want to let her down. I didn’t want to deny either of us. Not a minute longer.
I dropped to my knees, my hands on her hips. I pressed a kiss to her hipbone, right where delicate lace ended and flesh began. I traced my hands up her thighs to cup her bottom, feeling her quiver under my touch.
I looked up and found her staring down at me, nothing but tenderness in her eyes.
And it broke me.
I dipped my head to her belly, searching deep in my heart to find a way to make this perfect for her. Yes, I’d been with other girls, but none of them held a candle to Delilah. I wanted to make love for the first time in my life.
Her fingers slipped into my hair. “Blake?”
I glanced up.
“I love you.”
Heat pricked my eyes. No. She could not love me.
Nothing like I loved her.
I couldn’t speak. I would not ruin this moment.
Instead, I stood and led her to the bed to show her how I felt.
Delilah
Blake loved me. He didn’t have to say it. I knew it, as sure as I knew my name. It was crystal clear in the way he touched me. In every warm caress he placed on my flesh. The way he gazed into my eyes like he couldn’t believe I was real.
I crawled up the bed to lie on my back and held my hands out for him. He shucked his jeans and joined me in only black boxer briefs, his warm skin sliding along mine. God, he felt so good.
He sifted his fingers through my hair, tangling some locks around his calloused knuckles. I could tell he was trying to hide it, but he was nervous. I suppressed a smile . . . I’d never seen Blake be anything less than bold and take-charge. Like a mini hurricane was always roaring through him.
Yes, I wanted to lose my virginity to him, but I also wanted to comfort him. Give him something of myself I hadn’t given to anyone else. He was so deep under my skin, it felt like I was being gnawed at all the time. I needed him to calm the raging ache inside me.
I wrapped him in my arms, letting my hands roam his warm, taut back. Down his waist.
He groaned into my mouth as he kissed me, heat flaring between us like a living flame. I shifted to my side and wrapped my leg around his hip, feeling his hardness pressing into me. It was a foreign sensation, but I embraced it.
He rocked against me gently, as if giving me a chance to get used to him. To how this would be between us. I stared into his dark eyes when he broke the kiss and cupped my jaw.
I wanted to tell him a thousand times that I loved him. Reassure him. Instead, I dipped in and kissed his Adam’s apple, his collarbone. Traced my tongue up the cords of his throat to behind his ear. As heat spiraled up through me, I pressed my chest toward his, seeking his touch.
He obliged, his hot hand on my breast feeding the flames. Now it was my turn to moan and writhe against him, my body going on autopilot, like it knew what to do. I simply had to follow its lead.
He slowed me when I wanted to rush, gentled the roar just under my skin as he bathed me with kisses. My eyes, my chin, my belly. Shifting me to my back, he slowly drew my panties down my legs then stared up at me, an aching tenderness in his eyes.
Again, I held my hands out to him and he slid on top of me, his boxers gone, so we were 100 % skin-to-skin. His hot, dark gaze held mine, his hand caressing down my shoulder. “I want to do this,” he whispered. “More than you know . . . but, I just realized I didn’t bring any protection.”
Love unfurled through me in a new, overwhelming tida
l wave. “It’s okay,” I said, not letting go of his shoulders. “I’m on the pill.”
His brow furrowed. “You are?”
I smiled and kissed his nose. “Yeah. I got myself on it after that night . . .”
The shift in his expression told me he remembered, perhaps regretted, turning me down when I’d practically begged him that night by the beach. But this was so much more perfect.
“I’ve never . . .” his voice drifted off.
“You’ve always had a condom?” I forced myself to ask, hating the thought of him with other girls.
He nodded.
“Then we’re good, right?”
His gaze dipped to my lips then back up. “We’re good, Princess. If you’re sure.”
I arched my hips against his, rubbing my soft parts against his wonderfully hard ones. Yes, I was more than sure. And I was stupidly happy that, in at least one way, I’d be his first, too.
I gasped as he pressed into me as gently as he could. He took his time, entering me with a tenderness that brought tears to my eyes.
He stilled above me when he was all the way in. “You okay?”
I nodded, holding his gaze. Yes, it stung a little, but I wasn’t about to let that get in the way of this. Still, he didn’t move. I could only guess to give me a chance to get accustomed to him filling me. The ache eased a bit and I wiggled experimentally. Okay, still sore.
He leaned down and kissed me as he found both of my hands that were clenched in the sheets. Gingerly, he pried them free and laced our fingers, shifting my arms so our joined fists were next to my face.
I tried to relax beneath him, trust him not to hurt me.
“I love you,” I whispered again, hoping he’d see the truth of that in my eyes.
He squeezed his eyes closed, as if my words pained him. Then he seized my mouth in a fierce kiss and I forgot about everything but him. Only him.
Blake
I held Delilah as she slept, watching the clock tick away the minutes toward daylight. I knew I had to leave, but I just couldn’t let her go.
Burnout (Jack 'Em Up Book 0) Page 7
