I roll my eyes. “Well, she’s damn good at it then.”
“What does she do?” he asks, turning on the couch so that he’s facing me. His t-shirt rides up a little and I catch a glimpse of smooth, tan skin on his stomach. I swallow, not wanting to think about Fred like that.
“What?” I ask, trying to bring my attention back to the conversation. There’s a little glint in his eye when my gaze meets his—it makes my stomach swoop.
“How does she drive you crazy?” he asks.
“How doesn’t she?” I close my eyes. “She acts like a fucking sixteen year old, I swear to God. She called to find out where the fuses are. Like, seriously? It’s her house. How has she never changed a fuse before?”
He smiles a little. It’s a nice smile. A nice smile for a nice guy. And I need to stop thinking like that because he is a nice guy—way too nice for me.
“I’m assuming this is the first time she’s lived alone in a while?”
I snort. “That’s an understatement. That woman always has a man around. She cannot function on her own.” A thoughtful look crosses his face and I hold up a finger. “Don’t you fucking dare psychoanalyze me right now.”
He laughs. “So I take it I wouldn’t be the first one to tell you that it seems like a pretty big coincidence that your mother over-relies on men when you so adamantly refuse to rely on them at all?”
“You would not be the first one. But it sounds just as dumb-ass coming from you as it does coming from anyone else.”
He pokes my bare knee—a friendly, teasing little gesture that somehow makes it feel like there’s fire shooting up and down my leg. I’m suddenly very glad that I’m wearing shorts. “I should have known Ellie Canter is way too cool to be a pseudo-psyche cliché.”
I take a gulp of my Jack and Coke, happy that I made it so strong. The fire spreading down my throat is just what I need right now. It freaks me out a little, the way that brief contact of his finger on my skin made me feel. The way the visual of his skin made me feel earlier. Or the glint in his eye when he caught me looking. Or the teasing look that’s there now.
Get it together, I tell myself. This is Fred.
To be sure, if it was any other guy making me feel like this I would already be doing something about it. I wasn’t exactly the type of girl to take my time. If I wanted to be with a guy I was with him, no preamble, no worrying about consequences. That’s just how I live my life. But this is Fred. And Fred is nothing like the guys I usually hook up with.
I realize that neither of us has spoken for several seconds. When I look up he’s watching me, his gaze intense, his eyes dark. Shit. I swallow again.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he says, his voice even and low. My stomach immediately drops to the region of my knees at the raspy, demanding sound of it.
“No,” I squeak. I never squeak. “No,” I say again, my voice more normal this time. “We can’t Fred.”
“Why?”
“Because…” How can I say it so that he’ll understand? “I don’t want to mess anything up.”
“Why would it mess anything up?”
“Because we’re friends.”
“Haven’t you ever had a friend that you…wanted to be something more?”
I shook my head, trying to back further down the couch. There was nowhere to go. “No. I’ve never wanted to be something more with a friend because I don’t have friends that are guys.”
“You have Elliot and Hunter.”
“They’re like my brothers. Besides…I don’t do the whole more thing at all, friend or not.”
He raises an eyebrow, that teasing glint back in his eyes. “Really? You’re actually Little Miss Innocent? That whole reputation of yours is a facade?”
I scowl. “I have sex, Fred.” My voice is blunt. “Just sex. I don’t do more.”
He leans back a little. Does he look disappointed? Before I can decide his expression changes back to the teasing one of a moment ago. “What makes you think sex wouldn’t be enough for me?”
The way you look at me, a little voice in my head says. You definitely look at me like you want more.
“Very few men can let me go after just one night,” I joke, trying to keep it light.
Something flashes in his eyes. “Who said anything about one night? I have a whole week left before school.”
My stomach does that swooping thing again and it really pisses me off. I am not this girl—the one who gets all stomach swoopy over a guy. Especially not a guy like Fred.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s totally cute—in a nice guy sort of way. I can’t help but run my gaze across his face, taking stock of him, not for the first time. He’s tall. The first time I met him I kind of thought he was skinny, gangly. Until I saw him with his shirt off at the beach one day in July. It had been everything I could do to keep my tongue in my mouth. Fred is built. Yes, his body is lean and slim, but he has those long, taut muscles you usually see on a swimmer or soccer player. Totally hot. It’s hard not to imagine his body, right now. Not with the way he’s looking at me. Suddenly I’m painfully aware of how close we’re sitting on the couch.
The rest of him is cute as well—brown, kind of shaggy hair, brown eyes, handsome in a classic kind of way. His eyes are his best feature, by far. Warm brown in color and more expressive than just about anyone I know. When he’s amused or flirting they take on a teasing glint that make me want to stick my tongue down his throat. When he’s kind—which is most of the time—the warm factor goes up several notches. They almost look melty. And if Zoe ever finds out that I’m describing some guy’s eyes as melty, she would never stop laughing. Even if that guy is Fred.
That’s the thing, though. It is Fred. Nice, sweet, boy-next-door Fred. There is no risk of danger there, not even a drop. And I have always been partial to the dangerous boys. The ones you just know are bad news. The ones who can make your toes curl with a scorching look. The complete opposite of Fred.
“Ellie,” he finally says, breaking the silence. “What are you afraid of?”
I sit up straight, glaring at him. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“You’re afraid of me. You’re afraid of whatever this is between us.”
I force a laugh. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing between us. We’re friends, Fred. A fact I would rather not mess with.”
“We’re big kids, Ells. Don’t you think we can handle it?”
I shake my head, wishing I hadn’t had so much whiskey in my Coke after all. “I don’t want things to get weird.”
He scoots an inch closer and I feel my breath hitch. What is wrong with me?
“Then we won’t let it get weird.”
“How won’t it be weird? Our best friends are practically living together. I have a feeling we’ll be spending plenty of time in each other’s company.”
He reaches across the space left between us on the couch and brushes my hair behind my ear, letting his finger run down my neck softly. I can’t repress the shiver that runs through me. Fred notices and he grins. “I promise I won’t be weird about this later. I won’t act like some heart-sick, clinging guy who can’t get over you.” He winks. “I know how much that turns you off.”
“Why?” I whisper. “Why are you so insistent about this?”
All hint of teasing disappears from his face. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. That night you walked into my house—all flirtatious and teasing. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I don’t want to stop thinking about you.”
That’s it…I’m done for. It’s stupid and reckless to let this go any farther. I could easily hurt him; I know that. And I could hurt Jet and Zoe in the process. But I know, in the end, that none of that will matter when it comes right down to it. I’m not going to be able to say no to him.
“Fred—”
He leans into me, his eyes darkening. “You’ve been flirting with me all summer, Ells. Are you seriously going to tell me that you’ve never thought ab
out this?”
I shake my head, unable to lie to him. What is going on? Why am I letting him take control like this? I never give up control, not ever.
“Then what are we waiting for?” he asks. His mouth is only an inch away from mine now, his dark eyes almost black with desire. He holds my gaze, never blinking, never backing down. When he closes the last of the space between us, I feel my eyelids flutter closed. Then his lips are on mine.
I’m not a novice when it comes to kissing—not even close. But I’m not sure kissing has ever felt like this. I expect Fred’s lips to be soft, gentle. Sweet and risk-free, like he is. I’m wrong. He kisses me hard, demanding, his tongue plunging into my mouth. His kiss takes my breath away. I have my hands up in his hair, clutching him tightly, urging him on.
“See?” he whispers. “Good together. Just like I said.”
Good? Fucking amazing is more like it. Before I can respond his lips are on my mouth again, his tongue parting my lips. I groan without meaning to and swear I feel his mouth curl up in a smile against mine.
I’m lost in his kiss. I have no idea how much time passes—the world has turned to pure sensation around me. All I know is the feel of his hands running gently down the bare skin of my arms, so different from the firm, demanding pressure of his lips. His tongue is brushing against mine, making me crazy. My ears are filled with the sound of his heightened breathing, the little groans he releases at the back of his throat. Then he’s pressing my back into the cushions of the couch, sliding on top of me.
I’m going to have sex with Fred, I think, the realization making my heart pound even harder. I pull back, overwhelmed, my eyelids fluttering open to take in the sight of him, breathing heavily, his eyes hooded with desire.
He’s beautiful, I realize. God, has he always been this good looking? How could I have ever thought him merely cute?
“You okay?” he pants, his eyes on mine.
I nod. “I’m …” I don’t know how to explain it. How to tell him that I’m suddenly scared. Not to sleep with him—that I want more than I want to take my next breath. But I am scared of the feeling that is pressing down on me, the feeling that this is a far bigger deal than anything I am prepared to deal with.
“Come on.” He pulls himself from me, reaching down a hand as he stands.
I feel my fingers tremble slightly as they meet his, his grip firm and strong. He hauls me up to my feet. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his other hand going up to my hair. I feel shy, which is ridiculous. Then he smiles. “Beautiful Ellie with her blue streaks and piercings. Wanting everyone to think she’s such a bad ass.” He leans in, running his lips across my collarbone, making me shudder with want. “They don’t get to see you like this, do they?”
“What are you talking about—?”
Instead of answering, he kisses me again, and I decide I don’t care what he meant. All I know is that I want more of this—more of his lips and his hands and the noises he makes when he kisses me. So when he tugs on my hand to lead me down the hall, I let him. And when he pushes the door to my room open, pulling me through, I don’t complain. When his fingers find the bottom of my tank top and pull upwards, I’m pretty sure I’m going to die from the anticipation.
“So beautiful,” he mutters, once my shirt is tossed aside. He’s staring down at me, his voice gruff. I battle the urge to cover myself. I’m wearing a bra—so why do I feel so exposed? It’s something about the look in his eyes—like he can’t believe his luck. Like I’m precious to him in some way. It overwhelms me, the look in his eyes, and I close my own as he pulls me down onto the bed, as he slips off my shorts, as he pulls the straps of my bra down.
“Ellie,” he says, his voice raspy in my ear. “Look at me.”
I do as he asks, my heart stopping at the sight of him hovering over me. “Take off your shirt,” I whisper, and he grins at me briefly before he complies.
I want to take a moment to drink him in, to look at the smooth tan planes of his chest, his stomach. But then he’s lowering himself on top of me and the feel of that skin next to mine makes me out of control with need. Why the hell is my bra still on?
I let go of him for a minute, just long enough to reach behind me and undo the clasp. When I pull the lace fabric away he makes a noise in the back of his throat somewhere between a groan and a whimper. It makes me feel strong, triumphant, and I pull him back against me to kiss him again.
Fred, however, has other ideas. He abandons my lips to slowly make his way down my chest. I want him to hurry and I want him to never stop. There’s something in the way he moves, so slowly, almost reverentially, like he’s worshipping me. When he takes a peak into his mouth, his lips so gentle against my skin, I actually think I might die.
Everything feels like a blur after that. Fred removing his jeans. The sound of the wrapper loud over our labored breathing. The way he never stops kissing me, even as he rolls the condom down his length. But then he pauses over me, waiting for me to look at him, refusing to go on until I focus on him. His eyes are so dark, so filled with desire. I want to close mine, to turn my face away—he overwhelms me. But I feel trapped by his gaze. And I’ve never felt more beautiful. Or more wanted.
When he finally moves in me I feel tears prick the corners of my eyes. I look away, embarrassed, but he places his hand under my chin, turning me back to him. Then he kisses my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids. Kisses me until I can barely breathe. Nothing has ever felt like this. No one has ever made me feel this.
It’s not long before I’m falling, clinging to his shoulders, crying out his name. Still he kisses me, my face and my neck, whispering that I’m beautiful, whispering my name.
He follows me over the cliff a moment later, my name on his lips. Then, finally, we’re both still, the only sound in the room our breathing and the beating of our hearts.
Fred rolls onto his back, pulling me with him, refusing to allow even an inch of space between us. There’s no room here for awkwardness, no room for doubt or questioning. All I can do is snuggle into his chest, try to catch my breath. The last thing I know before I fall asleep is the feeling of his lips on my hair.
Chapter Three
Fred
I am so screwed. Seriously. What the hell was I thinking?
I feel Ellie shift in my arms and I hold my breath, not wanting her to know that I’m awake. She makes a little sniffly sleep sound before settling against me again and my heart pretty much seizes up at the adorableness of it.
See? That, right there, is exactly what I’m talking about. I should not be thinking about how adorable she is. Or how amazing her soft skin feels against mine. How her black curls are tickling my shoulder and I don’t even care.
It was supposed to be just about sex.
I practically snort out loud at that. Just sex. Yeah, right. How delusional can a guy possibly be?
It isn’t that the sex wasn’t a central aspect of my motivation. I’ve wanted this girl since the first day we met. She came waltzing into my house behind her friend Zoe, dressed in black leather pants and a strappy little red tank top that was so tight my imagination could fill in every blank. And it wasn’t just that her body was hot—even though it so was. No, with Ellie there was something more. Something about her couldn’t-give-a-fuck attitude. About the way she flirts so openly and easily. How she has no qualms about letting her gaze linger, her eyes making no secret of exactly what she wants.
She is confident, gorgeous, and impossibly cool. Of course I want her.
We’ve spent half the summer flirting. While Jet and Zoe fell head over heels for each other, Ellie and I were thrown together often. And I found I enjoyed every single one of those times together. She made me laugh like no other girl I had ever met—the filthy things that came out of her mouth both shocked me and cracked me right the hell up. She was always down for a party, always looking for a good time. I’d spent so much of the last few years worrying about shit—about Jet, about his brother, Jim, when he was still around. Abo
ut school. About my parents. With Ellie there was none of that garbage. There was just fun. And that’s what this night was supposed to be about. Fun.
I’m a damn fool.
I should have known that my feelings for her went from lust to something else a long time ago. She knew it, I was pretty sure. She wanted me as much as I wanted her; that much I had no doubt about. But she held herself back, even refused me earlier when I first point blank brought it up. And that wasn’t like Ellie—she didn’t let pesky things like regret and emotion get in the way of having a good time. But with me, it was different. She hesitated. And everything in her face could have told me why, if I had been smart enough to notice.
I was crazy about her. She knew it and I didn’t. And so she held back and refused me, not wanting me to get hurt, and I, like a fucking idiot, hadn’t listened. And now I was completely screwed.
She was amazing in bed. I wasn’t surprised by that fact—she made it perfectly clear that she had plenty of experience. But it was more than that, more than the typical stuff a guy can’t resist. There was something in her eyes when I moved inside her, when I looked down at her. Something that grabbed a hold of my heart and squeezed until it was fucking painful.
I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her.
And that, right there, is why I’m screwed. Because Ellie Canter does not do love. I imagine telling her what’s going through my head right now and it’s practically laughable. There’s just no way in hell the two of us could ever be anything, even if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m about to move two hours away for school.
I don’t do more.
She told me flat out, and I’d been dumb enough to think I didn’t care.
She sighs lightly in her sleep and I allow myself to look down at her. God, she’s gorgeous. With her pierced eyebrow and her blue streaks, her left arm a maze of tattoos. I’d never have dreamed I’d be into a girl like this. But there’s something in her face while she’s sleeping, a softness that no one else gets to see. It kills me that I might not get to see it either, after tonight.
Escape With You Page 2
