“I told you, I’m not keeping track.”
“And I told you I do.” I ran the bar of soap all over her, lathering her breasts, her diaphragm, down her belly.
I ran the soap over her hips, all over her thighs from back to front, avoiding her ass and core—saving them for last. Letting the water run over her, sluicing onto her head and neck and shoulders, letting her stand in the stream and luxuriate in being washed. Taking my time, scrubbing and massaging all at once. Brought the lather up to her sex and went to my knees. Pivoted her so she could brace against the wall, because I planned on making sure she’d need to brace herself. I took my time washing her core, nudging her thighs aside and using the gentlest touch I could. Kneeling behind her, my arms around her hips, the soap running over her slit, my other hand working in the lather and letting the rivulets of water rinse it all away. Then I brought the soap around to her backside, massaged the globes and scrubbed them, working my way inward. I leaned forward to kiss her back, her hips, tasting the clean water on her skin. I ran the soap and my other hand in slow slides inward, parting her ass cheeks. Over the tender knot. Just a pass of my hand, at first. The soap. Again. She gasped as I lathered the inner curve of each cheek and the parted seam between, and massaged the tiny virgin knot of muscle.
“Ohhhh fuck, Myles. You’re doing that?” she gasped. “Now?”
“Uh-huh,” I murmured.
“Ohhh fuck.”
“Better hold on to the wall, babe.”
She clapped her hands against the marble wall, leaning forward and arching her back inward to press her ass outward. Eager. I set the soap aside and gathered water as it ran over her shoulders and spine and hip, splashed it over her ass, rinsing her clean. And then set about kissing: spine, hipbones; ass cheek, upper swell of her thigh. Working my kisses inward. She was moaning as my lips and tongue dared and delved closer and closer, moaning from anticipation. I hesitated, and then took my first taste of her. She gasped, a sharp shrill whimper, and one hand left the shower wall, reached back to scrabble at my head, and I took that as encouragement. I slid my fingers between her thighs, up, found her clit and circled it hard and fast as I used my tongue against her ass to make her writhe. She lifted up on her toes, away from me even as she pressed her ass back against me, and I devoured her harder, faster, more vigorously than ever, head whipping from side to side and my fingers circling in a blur—she screamed, bit down on it, and her voice cracked, broke, and she dissolved into weak-kneed dipping, shaking, whimpering breathlessly, coming hard. I pushed her through it and to another, sliding my fingers inside her, delving in and smearing her with her own essence, returning to her clit until she broke apart again.
And that was when she lost the battle.
Her knees gave out, and she slid down to the floor of the shower. Trembling. Shaking all over, gasping for breath.
She lifted up to watch me splash water on my face, and rub my mouth clean.
“Holy shit,” she breathed.
Watching her lose control had been almost as arousing as anything she could do to me, and I was achingly hard for her again.
She saw this. Moved on all fours across the shower floor, toward me. I clambered to my feet and she followed me. Stood in front of me, breasts brushing my chest. Her breathing came in ragged pants, her chest lifting with each one. She was wild, aroused beyond all control. Her hands shot out, clawed, and hooked into my pecs, shoved me up against the wall. Fingers trailed down my cheeks, clutched my jaw. Eyes on mine, hers alight with aroused ferocity. Panting. Holding still, in the way a lioness freezes before she pounces.
And then she lunged at me. Lifted up, hooked one knee around my hip, heel on my opposite thigh, and sank down onto me. I growled wordlessly, feeling myself slide into deep wet soft perfection, felt her clamp around me, clenching spasmodically as she shook from the aftershocks of two potent back-to-back orgasms and quaking her way to a third as I drove up into her. I was beyond all control. All thought. I was alive with need, not for climax now, not for release, but for her. For intimacy.
For this.
She lifted up on her toes and I cupped her ass and lifted, and we set her down together, onto me. Lifted in synch. She slammed her mouth onto mine and stole my tongue, sucked it into her mouth, and drove her hips against mine. I gasped, feeling her slick wet heaven sliding around me, squeezing me, and I knew nothing but Lexie, but this, but us.
Pushing, thrusting.
Needing more.
I palmed her ass in my hands and lifted her all the way off the floor, stepped forward to press her back to the opposite wall, and she clung to my neck and writhed on me and her heels scrabbled desperately at my ass and she was a wild thing, a feral cat, all claws and teeth, nipping my neck and earlobes and shoulder, clawing at my back.
“Myles,” she breathed, those two syllables a broken, ragged plea.
I was so close. Drowning in her.
I had one brain cell operating enough to know what she meant with that single desperate plea of my name.
I set her down and wrenched control over myself—found it from somewhere within. Slid out of her. Stepped away. Shaking.
She whimpered, this time from loss, from confusion, from I wasn’t sure what.
I was shaking all over, every muscle tensed hard. I turned away from her. Head ducked, fists clenched hard.
Felt her behind me, palms sliding over my belly. “Myles, let me—”
I gripped her wrists in both hands. Shook my head. “No.”
She leaned against me, breasts squishing flat against my back. “I’ll suck you off again.”
I didn’t let go. “No. Not this time.”
“Why?”
“Because I…” I ached, hurt, physically as well as emotionally. “I want something you can’t give, Lex. It’s not about the act. It’s about what it means. I’m not going to take it. It’s not going to happen on accident, in the heat of the moment.” I twisted, keeping a grip on both of her wrists. “You’re either going to want what I want, or you’re not. We can do plenty of other things, Lex. Just not that.”
“You’re not being fair,” she whispered, and I heard the hurt and confusion and anger. “You don’t know, you don’t understand.”
“I know that.” I let go of her hands, cupped her face in both hands as the water ran cool. “And I’m still not asking. But I have to hold some part of myself in reserve, Lex, or I won’t survive this. I’m offering you everything I am without reserve. If you take that offer, you get all of me. If you can’t and won’t, then I have to keep something back.”
“It’s one thing, Myles. That one act of you coming inside me without a condom—I just…I can’t do that.”
“I know. And, like I said, it’s not about the act, Lex. It’s really not. You make me feel so fucking good, every time we’re together, no matter what we do. It’s not about coming inside you bare. I don’t want that to, like, mark you or some macho possessive shit, or because I’m obsessed with how it feels.”
“Then what is it about, Myles? Because I don’t fucking understand.”
“It’s about you holding something back. It’s about you not being willing to tell me why not. There’s nothing I won’t and haven’t told you. Nothing I won’t do for you, nothing I won’t give you if you ask for it. You’re not with me for my fame or my money, and I’m well aware of that. But if you asked me for fucking anything, I’d do it. Want a house? I’ll buy you a mansion in fuckin’ Monaco, or a penthouse in Paris. Say the word. Want a Ferrari? I’ll go pay cash for one right this fuckin’ second. You don’t want any of that shit, and I know it. That’s almost more frustrating, because there’s not a goddamn thing I can do, not a goddamn thing I can give you to earn the trust I want from you. Because the raw truth of it is, it’s not about me. I wish it was, because then I could fuckin’ do something. If I was an asshole and my behavior was shitty, I could fix that. If I was this or that or whatever, I could fix it. I could be better. Do better. Be a more generous lover
. Buy you presents. Take you on vacations. I don’t fuckin’ know. But it’s not—fucking—about—me.” I swallowed hard, eyes burning. “And that sucks. Because it means I’m out of options. All I can do is take what you’re willing to give, because I’m a fucking addict for you now, Alexandra. I’m hooked on you, and there ain’t another drug in this world that’ll be the fix I need to live. It’s you, darlin’. You or nothin’ at all.”
I backed away, then. Turned away. Shut off the shower. Snagged a towel from the rack and used it to gently, lovingly pat and dry every inch of her perfect skin. Her hair was still wet, and I hadn’t really gotten clean, just rinsed off. I tossed the towel onto her head, and she laughed, muffled, and then went quiet as I used exquisite care to towel her hair. I pulled the towel off of her face, smiling as her hair went poof, into a frizz explosion in a thousand directions of straight up. I wrapped the towel around her torso, tucked it in around her chest. Wrapped her in my arms. Pulled her close. Kissed her, slowly, gently, putting everything I hadn’t had the words to say into the kiss. It was a delicate burn of a kiss, all heat and no fire, sweet as honey.
I pulled away, leaving her breathless, and just smiled down at her.
I turned, and walked away.
“Damn you to hell for that, Myles North,” I heard her whisper to herself, and I could tell she was shaky, almost tearful.
Lexie
That morning we were busy packing up and saying a few dozen goodbyes; that, at least, was a saving grace. It was absolute hell not dwelling on what had occurred only minutes before.
Mom and my sisters and Crow were the last group we said goodbye to, and then we all piled into a giant black Suburban borrowed from…someone in the clan. Lucas drove us to the ferry with our single bag each, and Mom tried in vain to pretend she wasn’t about to get all emotional that I was leaving again so soon.
Because we were flying private, we didn’t have to go through security or parking, which Lucas thought was just the greatest thing ever. We parked right on the tarmac near the idling jet, and Myles invited everyone aboard for a quick peek.
“Dude, Lex, I am so fucking jealous,” Cassie said, sprawling out on the couch. “This is how you do international travel. For real.”
I just grinned. “It is pretty pimp.”
“The pimpest.” She held out her fist to Myles, and they tapped knuckles; then, Cassie’s eyes went serious, fiery. “Take care of my sister, Myles North.”
He nodded. “I absolutely will.”
“Don’t give up on her,” she said.
“Cassandra, goddammit, not now,” I snarled. “Seriously? Can no one give it a rest for one day?”
“Alexandra, goddammit, yes, right now,” she shot back. “I’m just saying my truth because who knows when or if I’ll ever see him again, so this is my chance. I like him for you, Lexie. And just for the record, if you don’t take the chance while you’ve got it, you’re a moron.” She stood up, wrapped me up in a tight, fierce embrace. “I mean that with all the love I have for you.” She held me at arm’s length, her eyes damp. “And that, just so we’re clear, is a fucking lot.”
Mom sighed. “You don’t need to swear to make your point, girls.”
“Yes, we do,” Cassie and I said in unison.
I shoved Cassie away, but it was playful and loving and only partially serious. “Shut up, dork.”
She just shook her head and let Charlie take her place at my side.
She just hugged me tight. “I love you, Lex.”
I waited, but nothing else was forthcoming. “That’s it?”
She laughed. “Yeah, that’s it. Everything’s been said several times in several ways, so there’s no point me piling on. I love you, I support you, I’m here for you. That’s it.”
I sniffled. “Thanks, Char-Char. You’re the best.”
Cassie scoffed incredulously. “Oh, she’s the best? Is it because she dropped her entire life to come do an epic road trip with you? Because I could have done that.”
“But ya didn’t,” I sang.
“Whatever,” Cassie said, but I knew she was teasing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Crow and Myles standing close together, foreheads bumping, murmuring in low tones. Crow grabbed Myles by the back of the neck, shook him. Shoved him away in a rough gesture of masculine affection. Stopped near me. His dark eyes burned into mine. He closed me up in a hug.
Whispered, his voice rough and raspy. “Don’t fuck with his heart, Lex.”
I swallowed hard. “Doing my best, Crow.”
“Sometimes our best ain’t enough, darlin’. Sometimes, you gotta go past just doin’ your best.” He tapped me on the nose, just to annoy me. “You’ll be alright.”
And then it was just me and Mom—the girls and Crow had trooped off to check out the plane and Myles had followed them.
She hugged me, too. Hard. Tight. Mama-bear fierce. “I love you with all my heart, Alexandra Rochelle. Don’t you forget that.”
“I know, Mom.” I swallowed hard. Then I said the words that did not at all fucking come easily or naturally: “I love you, too.”
She pulled away, and lost the fight against tears. “I’m sorry I failed you, Lex. I hope someday you can tell me.”
Fuck, fuck. NO.
“Mom…shit.” I closed my eyes. Felt them burn, hot and salty. “Don’t. Please don’t.”
“Can’t help it, baby girl. I’m your mama. I worry for you.”
“I’ll be okay. I’ll figure it out.”
“It’s just…” She rested her cheek against mine. “You don’t get all that many chances at true happiness in this life, Lex. I’m on my second, and I know I won’t get another. I’m taking it and I’m running with it, and I am not letting go, not for a damn thing. No matter what. Because, Lexie, honey, Lucas loves me. Being loved like that? There’s nothing like it. And it’s worth everything.”
Swallowing was hard, breathing was hard. Being me was hard, in that moment. I clung to her. “I hear you. But it may not be possible for me. And I can’t really explain why. Not yet.”
“I’m your mother, Lex. Why not?”
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
She sighed and let me go. “Okay. Someday?”
I shrugged, blinked hard. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
She walked me to the stairs and we hugged again. Charlie, Cassie, Crow, and Lucas went down the stairs and reached the tarmac. They all piled into the Suburban and headed for the ferry, and then it was just me and Myles at the bottom of the steps, waving goodbye to everyone. He grabbed my hand and we ran up the steps, pausing at the top to look back. Seeing my damp eyes he said, “Okay, Lexie?”
I shrugged. Nodded. Shook my head. “I don’t know.”
He chuckled, kissed me on the temple. “Fair enough.” He cast one last glance at Ketchikan, visible in the far distance, across the Passage. “Well? Ready for this?”
“Not even a little.”
“Too bad. Tokyo, here we come.”
We touched down in LA, and were joined by band members Brand, Zan, Jupiter, and their manager Mick. Mick had been planning on getting his own ride to Tokyo, but decided to check out the new ride, and so I met Mick––who looked to be in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair in a ponytail which was doing a poor job of hiding male pattern baldness. He had a brilliant white smile and an easygoing manner, and I was sure he had lots of stories to tell about his career in talent management.
It was a long, boring flight; the guys turned on a shoot-em-up movie with lots of boobs and explosions. They didn’t drink all that much, and Myles not at all—I think he was still feeling it from his bender the night before. I sat with Myles, half watched the movie, and read a book. It was…well, homey. Except for the occasional blip of turbulence, it was remarkably like being in a fancy condo with some guy friends.
The problem with boredom is that it left me way too much time trying not to think about this morning.
Him, bare inside me. How perfect
it had felt.
How badly I’d wanted him like that, how badly I wanted him like that all the time.
I tried to not think about how he’d tasted. There’d just been too much to swallow, and it had almost been hotter for that.
He probably didn’t realize the panic attack I’d had the entire time I had him in my mouth—how I’d fought it, hard. I’d fought to keep breathing, to ward off the terrible, dark, evil memory. I’d kept my eyes on him, reminding myself this was Myles. No one else—just Myles. Sweet, sexy, amazing Myles.
Myles who had looked at me, during and afterward, as if I’d given him a gift he could never repay.
He had no idea how hard that had been for me.
I’d wanted to stop and just cry, not because of him or anything he’d done, and not because I hadn’t enjoyed how he tasted, how he felt, how he’d reacted—because I had enjoyed that. But because I’d been fighting a battle he knew nothing about and I wanted more than anything in life to be able to tell him.
But I couldn’t.
It was ingrained, imprinted. Seared into me—never tell.
No one. Ever.
He’d know.
Logic told me otherwise, but logic was utterly helpless in the face of some things.
Myles nudged me. “Hey.”
I jerked, pulled out of my reverie, and shut the book. “What? Hey.”
“You were somewhere around Mars, it looked like.”
“Just…thinking.”
He’d been on his iPad with a Bluetooth keyboard attached, clicking and clacking, answering emails, plugging back into work mode. He eyed me. Glanced past me, at Mick, who was sprawled out in a chair, staring out the window at the clouds. “Mick.”
Mick glanced up, nodded at Myles’s gesture to join us. Mick crossed the isle and sat down opposite Myles. “What’s up?”
Myles opened a window on his iPad—a YouTube window. The title of the video was “Myles North with Crow and Lexie Goode” and it was an original song we’d done for the acoustic album.
Goode To Be Bad Page 17
