The Complete Captive Heart Duet: Lost and Found

by Aarons, Carrie

  I pop the melty, delicious last bite of my ice cream cone into my mouth and slide down next to her where she sits among the rubble of candy wrappers.

  “Okay. So why banking? Is that what you went to college for?”

  “Really? We’re going to talk about my bank? The one you kidnapped me from?”

  I shrug. “It’s a neutral topic.”

  She huffs, blowing on a piece of hair that has landed in front of her eye. “Fine. Yes, that is what I went to college for. I’m a credit analyst. I’m basically the person who decides if and how much credit the bank should give you when you apply for a card or loan.”

  I pick up half a Snicker’s bar she didn’t finish and bite off a hunk. “Sounds exhilarating.”

  “Yeah well, it passes the days. Besides, I don’t see you doing much of anything.”

  Sadness creeps its way into the pit of my stomach. “Yeah well, when the one thing you’re good at is no longer a possibility, it’s not easy to find or do anything else.”

  “Come on, football was not the only thing you were good at.” Char’s hand accidentally lands on mine and she pulls it away. But not before leaving it there a split-second too long.

  “It pretty much was.”

  She’s almost yelling now, the sugar has seeped into her brain. “Well what about coaching? I think you could be great at that!”

  I guffaw. “Oh how fucking predictable. The athlete with an injury that ruined his career goes into coaching. As if we haven’t heard that story a million and one times! No. In all honesty it would be too painful to go back out onto a field if I wasn’t playing in the game.”

  “So you think, but you’ve never tried it.”

  Char lands on an unopened tube of Rolo’s, hesitates, and then puts it back down.

  I don’t want to talk about football anymore. The handful of times I have in the last three years, it feels like someone is slicing open my heart with a letter opener.

  “So really, what do you do for fun? Days at the bank can’t be that entertaining.”

  She rolls her eyes and I can’t help staring at her lips when they split into a grin. “Oh, come on. Numbers can be sexy too. But really, Tuck. Even if you don’t remember any of our history, you have got to remember me. Fun to me is a good book. And now that I legally can, a glass of wine.”

  I picture her snuggled up on the couch with a paperback and a glass of something red, and my cock strains to be freed. She’s probably so warm and soft underneath that blanket she’s snuggled on and—

  “It’s getting late. We should hit the hay.”

  Char pushes up and I scramble to help, my hand guiding her elbow and holding her steady. Her skin is velvet under my fingers, and I’m not a good enough man to banish the thought that I should push her up against the wall right now. But the tiny strength I have left holds me back.

  We walk back down the path in silence, the air even colder than when we originally ventured out. Our footsteps are the only sounds, left then right, left then right. I want to say something, there is a thought or an apology or a plea on the tip of my tongue. But before I know it, we’re in front of cabin three and she’s turning to say goodnight.

  “Sleep well, Tuck.”

  I nod, knowing I need to move my body and lock myself in number four. “Sweet dreams, Char.”

  24

  Charlotte

  Eight Years Ago

  That thing began to build again. That fullness feeling, the one where my toes curled and I couldn’t breathe and it felt like my head and vision were fuzzy.

  “Fuck. Yes.” Tucker thrust in one more time before burrowing his head into my neck, no longer moving inside of me.

  My body still buzzed, still felt like a bomb that just needed the detonator pressed ever so lightly to combust into a million tiny pieces.

  But from the unmoving state of Tucker’s body, it was safe to assume he’d already finished. And I hadn’t.

  Not that I would say anything to him. I hadn’t in the two months we’d been having sex, him sneaking us into anywhere we could be alone. I always almost got there, almost crested that peak. Or maybe I had and I just didn’t know it. After all, I don’t think I’d ever had an orgasm. I’ve been sneaking Cosmopolitan behind my mother’s back this summer, trying to learn new tricks to impress Tucker, and they say I should try to give myself one. But … masturbate? I wouldn’t even know where to start. I don’t want to look at porn. The whole thing stresses me out more than it turns me on.

  So I go without, lying to Tucker each time he asks if I finished. Most times he doesn’t even ask anymore.

  He rolls off me, walking towards the bathroom with that just-laid swagger he gets after we finish having sex.

  “Mmm.” Tucker sighs and groans when he plops back down onto the bed beside me, the condom long gone in the trashcan in my bathroom.

  My parents are gone for the weekend, giving me a full two days to spend with Tucker. It’s been nice, being able to see him for more than an hour or two, most of which we’re humping each other.

  He hasn’t offered to take me to any of the parties he’s always going to, or even out to the movies or pizza or something. And I haven’t asked. I’m too scared to. I’m too scared it will make him leave.

  I curl into him, his hands coming around me and tickling up and down my spine.

  “Do you think I should leave?”

  I was waiting for this, considering he’s been at my house all day. Besides the couple rounds of sex, he actually watched a movie with me, and we got takeout burritos.

  “You don’t have to. My parents won’t be home until after lunch tomorrow. You could … you could stay over?”

  It sounds like a question when I say it. We’ve never had a sleepover, but I dream about his arms wrapped around me, holding me close every single time I close my eyes.

  There is silence from up above, and I keep my face pressed into Tucker’s neck so I don’t have to see the decisions he’s playing with in his eyes.

  “Sure. I can stay.”

  He doesn’t sound so sure.

  “Great.” I pause, not sure how to deal with the sudden awkwardness. “Are you nervous to go to college?”

  There are only two weeks left until we both go our separate ways, and we hadn’t addressed a thing yet. But there was a certain camaraderie between two people who were sleeping together. Not that I had much experience, but after sex, Tucker and I could talk about a lot of things we couldn’t talk about in the daylight. We had an understanding, this thing that connected us, even if it was only for a little while. For those brief periods, we were the only two people who existed in the world.

  “Nah, I’m pumped. Really excited for football, and just stoked to get out of here.”

  Although his words sting, I don’t think he’s talking about me. Or the Conestoga. I think he’s talking about getting out from under his father’s roof. And his thumb.

  “What about you?” Tucker’s words interrupt my thoughts as his fingers stroking my back slowly lull me into a sleepy state.

  “Yeah, I’m nervous. I just want to do well.”

  He laughs softly. “You always do well. You’re going to be great.”

  Those words coming from him fill me with more pride and ego than I’ve had in the last eighteen years.

  “Do you think you’ll go into the NFL?

  “Of course I will. I’m going to be the best wide receiver the Eagles have ever seen.”

  “Oh, getting drafted by Philly, are we? How perfect.” I smile into his broad chest, feeling the newly minted muscles he’s gained in his intense summer workouts.

  “You know it. Hometown hero, baby.”

  My heart flips over and dies when he calls me baby.

  Tucker lets out a yawn and flips me so that my back is to his front. “I’m beat, let’s get some sleep.”

  I don’t think I’ll even be able to close my eyes tonight, but I go along with it, snuggling in close under the sheets. My heart is beating double-ti
me, being this close to him in such an intimate way. This moment will surely brand itself into my brain forever.

  “Do you need me to set an alarm or anything?” I want to be a courteous sleepover host.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Sleep well, Tuck.” I lace my hand in his.

  “Sweet dreams, Char.”

  When I wake up the next morning, I’m alone, wondering if the entire day before was simply my imagination.

  25

  Charlotte

  I’m in the middle of Raskolnikov comparing himself to Napoleon when I hear such loud banging coming from outside the recreation building that I jump in my own skin.

  Running outside, I expect to see a S.W.A.T team swarming the grounds and bullets whizzing past my head. Except when I look around, frantically swiveling my head, Camp Marsh is totally empty. Per usual.

  The banging sounds again, a thwack, thwack, thwack that sounds like it’s coming from the back of the recreation building. My heart speeds up and what I’m anticipating, I don’t know. I just know I’m nervous and the sun is shining too bright and—

  “What the hell are you doing?!” I scream at Tucker the moment I see him, a sledgehammer in his hands and a tool belt buckled to his body. He looks hot … really hot. I can’t help but stare at him as he slides the protective goggles off his face and into his turbulent curls.

  “I’m fixing the siding. I noticed some mold growing over here, and I fixed the same problem on cabin twelve last week so I—”

  “You fixed the side of cabin twelve? What … when?”

  He fixes me with an irritated stare. “Last week, like I said.”

  “Wha … where … where did you find all this?”

  Tuck drops the sledgehammer with a huff and unscrews a water bottle that’s lying near his feet. “In the shed behind the mess hall, I remembered that’s where old man Marsh kept all of the tools and stuff.”

  “And why are you doing this?” I point to the siding.

  “What else do you think I’ve been doing while you’re lounging in there with your books? I figure if we’re crashing here, I might as well help spruce the place up.”

  Even if he is a kidnapper and a rehabilitating drug-addict, that is the sweetest thing I think I’ve ever heard someone say.

  “That’s really nice, Tucker.”

  He waves me off and I think he’s blushing. “Aw man, it’s nothing.”

  I check out the work he’s done so far and it actually looks pretty good. “Where did you learn to do this?”

  He stares off at the lake, and I know he doesn’t want to meet my eyes. “When I was sober enough to keep a job down, it was usually in construction. The guys don’t ask a lot of questions, you don’t have to talk about your feelings or make friends. It’s just work.”

  It made sense. He was always good with his hands … in many ways. But Tucker had always been more of a doer than a talker or a learner. Now that I really thought about it, construction suited him.

  “Well … it looks good. Don’t let me keep you.”

  I turn to go but his voice stops me. “What are you reading there anyway?”

  I didn’t realize I still have Dostoyevsky in my hand. “Crime and Punishment, although why this is on the shelves at a summer camp I’ll never know. It was the one book I could never get through in high school, so I thought I’d try it now. Still don’t like it.”

  “Oh I remember that one! He murders someone, right? And there are like prostitutes? That was the one book I read in high school.”

  I roll my eyes and laugh. “Figures.”

  “It’s nice to see you smile.” Tucker is looking at me like he’s seen the sun.

  Blood rushes to my cheeks and I’m suddenly all hot and squirmy.

  “It was good, all those years ago, wasn’t it?” He steps closer to me and I can’t help but feel like a caged animal, for an entirely different reason than the one I’d previously had. Tucker is dangerous, not to my person, but to my heart.

  As he stalks me, I need to put up a defense. I need to protect myself. So I go for something I don’t usually use. Something that usually isn’t in my arsenal. Sarcasm.

  “Yeah, if you call you getting your rocks off and leaving me high and dry good.” I chuckle, just to get him to stop in his tracks.

  “Wait, what?” He shakes his head, as if trying to deflect my words.

  “Tucker, come on. We were kids, we both didn’t know what we were doing.”

  He shakes his head again, his dark brown pools fixed on me as his fists clench and unclench. “You’re telling me … that you, you lied? You told me it felt good for you too.”

  Oh men and their ego’s. “Yes, it did. But I never reached that big O. It’s fine Tuck, we were both stupid teenagers.”

  He closes his eyes and his nostrils flare. When he opens them again, they’re almost midnight black. “It’s not fine. You’re telling me that for almost three months we fucked and you never had an orgasm?”

  “Well, had sex, yes. But yeah, no.” I gulp, afraid of what he’ll say next. I didn’t expect this response out of him.

  “Fucked, had sex, made love, slept together—whatever you want to say to make yourself feel proper, Char. But for God’s sakes, please don’t say this is fine. I’m a total fucking tool.”

  I laugh, though this time all sarcasm is lost. It’s nervous and I stumble over the sound. “Um … okay, it’s not fine.”

  He’s so close now that I can almost feel the overgrown stubble on his face tickling my chin. He looks rugged and sexy and my lady parts are yelling at me to do something about it.

  “Come on.” Tucker grabs my hand, pulling me along with him in the direction of our cabins.

  “Tucker, what … slow down!” He’s nearly pulling my arm out of the socket. He definitely doesn’t know his own strength. “What are you doing?!”

  “I’m going to make this right.” He throws open the door to my cabin and pulls me inside.

  “What are you … OH.” I finally realize what he’s talking about when he tries to pull my shirt over my head. “No, oh my God, stop. You really don’t have to do this.”

  “Actually I really do. My ego is going to suffer and die if you don’t let me give you an orgasm right now.”

  The glint in his eye tells me that isn’t all he’s planning to do. While the idea of him touching my body, licking and sucking me in my most intimate places, sends my head spinning … this can’t happen.

  I cross my arms over my chest in the middle of the freezing cold cabin. “No, Tucker, we don’t have to do this. It’s really okay.”

  “Would you stop saying that?” He says and then proceeds to take his own shirt off.

  And my mouth goes dry. He’s all olive skin and sloping muscles and silk stretched over steel. His body is hypnotizing and I’m not sure that if the world exploded beside my head that I’d notice.

  Now he’s stalking towards me, backing me up until I nearly trip over my mattress fort in the middle of the floor. Tucker catches me, his big, rough hands sliding down my arms so sensually that it felt like he was stroking the place now throbbing for only him.

  “Lie down and let me make up for all of the fucking stupid things I did as a teenager. All of the stupid things I’ve done now.”

  His naked flesh is too close to me, those dark eyes boring into my own. My head is at war with my body and my heart. I want this, I can almost feel his tongue feasting on me already. But I know shouldn’t. Know this will end so, so badly.

  But he’s already laying me down, cradling my body in his hands and moving the blanket and sleeping bag over us to create some warmth. He intends to take my clothes off. My brain registers that, but I don’t fully understand until he’s pulling at the gaping sweatpants at my hips.

  His fingers brush my hip and we both groan.

  “Char …” My name is reverent on his tongue.

  And I can’t stop this. Ever since he brought me here, ever since our eyes connected across the b
ank, it’s all been hurdling towards this. We’re two trains in the night who were bound to collide and although we will surely skid off the tracks, although there are destined to be casualties ahead of us, right now, there is no stopping.

  He pulls at the material covering my body and I squirm, helping him tear it off. I’m suddenly hot and itchy; the only balm that will soothe me is his tongue inside of me. No matter that the temperatures in November are well below freezing, I don’t even feel it.

  Once he frees my legs, he wastes no time and yanks down my boxers, the ones I found that I’ve taken to wearing because I have no real clothes of my own.

  “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Tucker’s eyes are fixated on my core and it makes me even more impatient. I want to shove his beautiful, dirty mouth down onto me, but I don’t.

  “What do you want me to do to you?” His eyes sparkle and I can see the brawn of his shoulders, his entire body dwarfing mine from the waist down.

  Here’s the thing. I’ve never been vocal during sex. Hell, I’ve never been good at voicing my thoughts or opinions in life. I clam up, get awkward, and generally end up offending someone. So I just keep quiet.

  “Char. Get out of your head for once. What. Do. You. Want?”

  He snaps me to speak. “I want you to kiss me.”

  While I might want his face between my thighs, I also want to know that if we’re doing this, it’s real.

  Tucker slithers up my body, all of that strength encased in olive skin taunting me like some kind of mirage. This can’t be real.

  He pushes my shirt up as he moves, finally making me arch up so he can shove it past my head and throw it behind us. And then he lays his body over mine, and I feel like I might float away if he wasn’t anchoring me to the mattress.

  “I’ve wanted to taste your lips again. So. Badly.”

  He closes his mouth over mine before I can respond. Not that I would have. I couldn’t if I tried; he’s stealing the air out of my lungs.