“Please,” his voice shook with panic. Panic she’d never seen in him before. “Just get off the bike. Please.”
She did as he asked, standing up from the seat. “I’m off,” she answered. “See? Steve, open your eyes. Look at me.” He did what she asked, though it seemed reluctant. “I’m fine.”
He released a deep breath and his shoulders relaxed. Even still, she could see that he was biting the inside of his cheek on one side. “Anxiety?” she asked.
He nodded. “Something like that.”
“From the accident?”
Again, he nodded. “It doesn’t happen often. I’ve got it under control.”
“Maybe someday in the future, we can ride this again together.”
“Maybe.” But he sounded doubtful.
She entwined her fingers into his while smoothing her other hand across the leather banana seat. It was an old bike… belonged to his dad back in the seventies, if she remembered correctly. At the edge of the seat was a small lever. Instinctually, she tugged it and the seat popped open, revealing a compartment inside. “I didn’t know it had this,” she said, tugging the seat up.
The compartment was empty except for an area to fill the gas tank and a stack of folded papers. Letters? She felt his grip on her hand tighten, his fingers clenching between hers. Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head, looking at a few sheets of notebook paper folded together on the top. “That’s my handwriting,” she said. Then lifting another one, she recognized Steve’s handwriting from their high school days. The folded note had her name scribbled on the front. “You kept our high school notes?” She thought back to their classes in high school. Steve was a year older than her and so they rarely had classes together. Occasionally, they would leave little love notes in each other’s lockers, but they weren’t that couple who constantly passed love letters back and forth in the hallways.
Steve lurched, shutting the seat back down and giving an attempted casual shrug. “There was no way I could throw away that letter. I tried. But I couldn’t.”
Yvonne racked her brain. She and Steve had a deep history. But that folded letter with her handwriting? It looked like it was more than one page and it looked long. She didn’t remember ever writing any thesis on their love. And that was certainly more than just “Future Mrs. Steven Tripp,” scribbled on the outside of her homework. “Maybe we should read them,” she said. “Together.”
A look of horror crossed his face briefly, but as quickly as the curtain dropped, he pulled it right back into place. “You want to read that note? Aloud.” The faux level of confidence Steve had crumbled and he dragged a hand down his face. Whatever anger and frustration he seemed to be feeling dissolved into exhaustion.
She shook her head, concern now taking the place of curiosity. “Well, not if it’s going to upset you.” Whatever these notes were, they meant a lot to him. Or caused him stress, she noted, watching the way his eyes had turned weary. When he didn’t answer, she moved to try to grab them, but he blocked her path. “Now you’re worrying me.”
“You meant it when you apologized to me the other day, right?” She nodded, unsure of what their accident had to do with this. “Then can we forget about these? Let this go for now? This has been a really long day. I really just want to be with you. And hold you. I don’t want to think about how we used to be and what we both said and did way back when we were teenagers.”
What in the hell had she written all those years ago? Or had he written? She caught another glimpse of his worried face and how moments ago, he was freaking out over her sitting on a motorcycle that wasn’t even moving… hell, it wasn’t even turned on. Maybe it was just a little too much for him right now. Yvonne lifted an eyebrow and nodded. “Maybe another night, then?”
He cupped her jaw and tilted her mouth to line up with his. “Eve, I promise you. We will revisit those letters if it’s what you need. But tonight, I want to live in the now. And not dwell in the past.”
He’d been so good about giving her the time, space and words that she needed to move forward together. She wanted to award him the same thing. Even if the curiosity was killing her. “I understand. Sometimes we need to face things in order to move on from them. But I can wait until you’re ready for that.”
He pressed his mouth to hers, nudging her lips open. Curiosity faded, overshadowed by lust. “It’s going to be really hard for me, but I promise that by the time Gatsby’s treatments are over, we can revisit those letters.”
‡
Chapter Twenty-One
A Few Days Later
Steve let her run ahead, knowing there was no way he could catch up to her when she was practicing her full stride pace. Instead, he hung back, careful not to jostle his backpack too much. On the way down the hill, he passed Jonah, also on a run. Feeling his already tight muscles clench, he closed his eyes, ignoring the glare Yvonne’s ex-fiance gave him. The guy now lived in town with them; it was inevitable they would bump into each other from time to time. And he’d be damned if he let that guy ruin another evening with Yvonne.
It took him a few minutes to reach the docks where Yvonne had already kicked off her shoes and gone calf deep into the water.
The sun glittered off of the water’s surface, highlighting her face with a golden hue, her blonde hair sparkling like rose gold. Steve slowed, gently lowering his bag. Unzipping it, he pulled out a blanket, spreading it over the dock. He grabbed the two small bottles from inside the bag, holding them up to Yvonne. “Sparkling grape juice or champagne?”
“Juice, please,” she called back, her eyes cast on the boats farther out in the lake. He placed the champagne back into his bag, popping open the cider and pouring them each a paper cup of the sparkling juice. Then, he laid out a block of cheese, strawberries, and the container of lunch meat he’d packed for them.
“Lunch is served.”
She splashed her way out of the lake and plopped down beside him. “So,” Steve asked, “on your run… did you pass—”
“Jonah? Yeah. He waved. I waved back. That was it.” She shrugged, grabbing a strawberry. Steve pushed his other thoughts aside. She didn’t seem upset or worried about it and he didn’t want to be “that guy” around her. He could never tell her who to be friends with.
“Well, he didn’t wave at me.”
“You expected him to?”
He chuckled at that. “Guess not.” He pushed thoughts of Jonah out of his mind and instead focused on Yvonne’s perfectly pink lips, wrapped seductively around the fruit. She had no idea how damn sexy she was. Overtaken with the desire to taste that strawberry directly on her lips, he leaned in, kissing her. God, he loved kissing her. It was hard to imagine her lips any sweeter than they already were, but doing it with fruit involved—well, it was. Sweeter, that is.
He traced his thumb over her jaw, gathering a bit of sweet juice that dripped from her lips and bringing that thumb to his mouth.
“Does it scare you?” she asked quietly, pressing closer to him.
He went still against her. “What?”
“How fast things are moving? How strong our feelings are—?” Her voice cracked and she buried her face in his neck.
He chuckled, kissing the top of her hair. “It scares me more that you’re asking that,” he answered honestly, his voice much more casual than he felt on the inside.
She cleared her throat, pulling back to look into his eyes. “But the feelings themselves?”
“Those never scared me. Not in the way you’re asking. But it’s okay if they scare you… you can tell me things like that. I want to know your thoughts. All of them.”
She went quiet, her eyes drifting out over the lake. He let the silence wash over them, soaking them in a tub of it as he skimmed the back of her neck with his fingertips, back and forth. After a few minutes, he shifted the movement in broader strokes down her arms and up again.
She moaned, pressing into him. “Know what I’m thinking now?” With her head resting against his chest, her bac
k pressed to his front, she turned her head up to look at him. A wicked grin curved on her strawberry stained lips. She leaned over, her lips to his ear, whispering a precursor of events to come. His grip on her arm tightened right along with his groin.
“If we weren’t in the middle of a very public lake right now, Eve…” She spun, kissing him and his hands skimmed up her shirt, grazing her breasts.
“How about we pack up and finish this at home?” she said, biting his bottom lip. His arched brow was the only response he could offer because her mouth was still fused to his. And he didn’t want to do anything to disrupt that.
*
A few days later
“Never have I ever…” Yvonne rolled her eyes back, spinning her shot glass filled nearly to the brim with tequila on Steve’s coffee table. They hadn’t been playing the drinking game for long… she’d only had a few sips of her tequila and Steve, ever the gentleman, wasn’t insistent that she do the entire shot each time. “Ummm, never have I ever been kissed on a boat.”
His eyebrows twisted as he held his shot glass near his lips without taking a sip. “Shut up,” he said playfully. “We live on a lake! You were engaged to a lawyer… you’re telling me he doesn’t own a boat?”
She shrugged, circling her finger along the rim of her glass. “Oh, Jonah owns a boat. But he was always too busy playing Captain and I was too busy trying to be his Tennille. Or maybe Donna Reed.” She shrugged. “I don’t even know who I was with him, but it definitely wasn’t me.”
“So he never kissed you on his boat?”
She shook her head. “Other than the occasional peck, no.”
“Tool,” Steve muttered before throwing back the rest of his tequila and pouring another shot for himself.
“Your turn,” Yvonne said. The room was only spinning a little and she was having a hell of a good time. They’d spent nearly every night together that week, switching off whose house they were at. In less than two short weeks, they had fallen into a very comfortable routine. They would get off work, go for a run, order dinner or walk to into town for a bite, then spend the night at one of their homes with the dogs. If it wasn’t for all the mind-blowing sex they were also having each night, Yvonne would swear she was hanging with a best friend.
Steve took a moment to think. “This game is hard when you’ve known someone half your life.”
“There was a huge break in between, though.”
He let loose with a sigh. “Don’t remind me.” It was said under his breath, but Yvonne heard it all the same. “Never have I ever had sex in a public bathroom.” He eyed her carefully and Yvonne felt her cheeks warm as she lifted the glass to her lips and tipped back half of what was inside.
Steve’s crystal blue eyes widened. “You’ve never been kissed on a boat, but you’ve fucked in a bathroom?”
She shrugged as he stood, moving to the sink and filling a glass of water. “It was college. I was in my wild stage.”
“Your wild stage began with me in high school and apparently lasted quite a while.” He chuckled, setting the glass of water down in front of her and taking his seat beside her on the couch once more. “But hey… you do you. On second thought, outsource that to me.” He leaned over her, his body deliciously heavy and hard. Taking her mouth in a ferocious kiss, his tongue slipped between her lips, urging them to open for him. She happily obliged, falling back onto the couch, her hands drifting to taut skin pulled over his flexed biceps. “Come to think of it,” he added, ending the kiss, his mouth lingering a breath away from hers, “you first kissed me over a month ago in the bathroom at Greico’s. Our first time together in thirteen years was in the shower. Maybe you have a fetish?” He arched an eyebrow at her and Yvonne’s giggle quickly morphed into a snort. Tingles raced down her arms as she let herself drift into a fog of tequila.
“Oh, God, I hope not!” she laughed. “A bathroom fetish? Ew.”
His grin widened. “Facts are facts, Eve.”
She flipped him over onto his back, straddling his hips. “Never have I ever been fucked on the back of a motorcycle,” she said, her eyes flicking to the garage door.
His smile sank, but only a fraction before he sat himself up, coming nose to nose with her. “That right there is a bold-faced lie, Sarzacki. We did it on my dad’s bike several times in high school.”
She winked, grabbing the rest of her tequila shot and drinking it down. “I know.” She remembered parking that bike—it was so much easier to park inconspicuously than a car. Granted, there was no back seat to duck below the windows, but sitting there, Steve standing over her with her legs wrapped around her waist? She sighed. It was still some of the best sex she’d ever had. Well, up until about four weeks ago.
Steve leaned forward, grabbing his full glass, drinking his shot as well. “How about I make us some coffee?” He lifted her off of him, setting her gently back on the couch before getting up.
“It’s almost midnight,” Yvonne said, looking at her phone.
“I’ll make decaf.”
“And what good is that? Decaf anything is like a stripper who wears granny panties.”
Steve bent, curving his hand around her jaw and bringing her lips to his. “Well, what do you suggest we do to sober up?”
“I have a few ideas.”
“Any of those involve the back of my motorcycle?”
Yvonne didn’t answer, but felt her lips curve into a wicked grin.
He kissed her once more, heading into the kitchen. “That’s what I thought. I’ll start the coffee.”
*
The next morning
Sunlight dribbled into the dark room, sneaking in through a little sliver where Steve’s curtains didn’t quite meet. He’d never been a light sleeper until after the accident. Suddenly, every little noise would jolt him awake. And bright and early this Saturday morning, that exact little noise was the sound of Yvonne’s quiet snore. She was sleeping on her side, her ass nestled against his growing erection, and Steve’s arm was curled around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. Her blond hair fanned out across the pillow, its golden hue a stark contrast to the navy sheets, and as he peeked over the side, he could see her profile. Her eyelashes were a web of black against her cheeks and her plump lips were separated just enough to allow the shallow breaths in and out, her gorgeous breasts lifting gently with each one. It wasn’t a loud snore. No, more like heavy breathing with the occasional sinus rattle. And it was cute as hell.
He gently lifted a hand and brushed her hair back, revealing a silky strip of skin at her neck, and pressed his mouth against the curve of her shoulder. She sighed quietly and with just the slightest wiggle, her ass pressed harder into his cock. His body responded appropriately and he let his kisses trail up her neck until he reached her ear. He sucked it into his mouth and nibbled it before tucking his hand under the sheet that concealed her naked body. He paused, taking a moment to admire how stunning she was. Her soft skin, smooth with luscious curves at her hips and breasts. He trailed a path from her shoulder down her back and over the curve of her ass as she let out a whimper.
He moved his gaze up her body, greedily taking her all in. The scar lining her spine stared right back at him, challenging him to run away. Challenging him to face what he’d done and not turn a blind eye to it. Yvonne wasn’t the type of girl who hid her scars. She didn’t purposefully try to protect the people around her from them. But she also didn’t strut them around like a show pony either. She wore them quietly, but with confidence. A part of her personality that Steve so admired. One that he wished he could emulate. Then again, there was no way of hiding his scar. No makeup he could wear—no long sleeves to hide under. He was forced to face his life’s biggest mistake in the mirror every day. Whereas Yvonne’s was always behind her—at her back.
He dragged his knuckle down the scar and her whimper grew louder, more intentional. Her eyes, though still closed fluttered. She was stirring awake. Steve reached around, drawing a line down her abs until he la
nded between her legs. She responded immediately to his touch, her knees falling open, one leg draping over his body.
“Steve,” she moaned his name sleepily and as she rolled to face him, Steve took her mouth in a kiss.
“Shhh,” he said, keeping one hand between her legs. He dipped his finger inside of her, finding a pool of wetness. She was so wet for him already. Wet… and hot… and constricting in pulses around his finger. Steve’s eyes closed, sighing, remembering, anticipating how perfectly she’d fit around his cock. Slowly, he pulled his finger out of her and slid it back over her swollen clit, circling gently.
She gasped his name just before Steve moved over top of her, gently rolling her onto her back. Palming one breast, he sucked her nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the pebbled nub. The clean, slightly sunflowered scent of her skin sent his mind spiraling, spurring the desire he’d already woken with. How the hell did she manage to wake smelling like damn flowers when most people smelled like the manure in the soil? But that was just Eve. Naturally gorgeous… in looks, personality, and even in scent.
She writhed beneath him, panting, thrusting her body in his direction. Every now and then her sex would meet his, causing a burst of added arousal.
“You’re so beautiful, Eve,” he murmured against her goose-pebbled skin. She slid her greedy hands over him, and her nails stroked the tensed muscles at his back until he was groaning right along with her, like some sort of choir singing in harmony. She linked her legs to his, trying to roll him over, but he caged his arms over her head. He was too strong for her, and he braced himself until she gave up.
But he should have known better than to think she was truly giving up. She was merely changing tactics. “It’s my turn to taste you,” she whispered, her voice raspy with morning grogginess. Then, slowly, she ran that expert tongue of hers over her top lip.
Healing You Page 16
