by Riley Ashby
“I’ll meet you where you are,” I said. She shuddered and fell forward into my chest.
“What if I can’t?” she asked. I released her hair, running my fingers through it to release the tangles and straighten it once more. I ran my hand through it lightly, tickling her back with my fingertips.
“Then I’ll wait until you come to me.”
I thought I had imagined the way his eyes lingered on me as we removed our harnesses and returned the gear. I thought the way his hand drifted toward mine was my mind playing tricks on me until he grabbed my fingers and laced them with his. Even when that happened, I thought he would drop the contact the second we got in the car, but he only let me go to put the car into gear.
“It feels nice to touch you,” he said. When I looked over, he was staring straight ahead as if he had never spoken at all. I ran my thumb along the side of his index finger.
“It feels nice to be touched.”
We took turns in the shower when we returned to the cottage. It felt so strange for me to be naked with him in the house and only a door away, but his presence was security, not a threat. A moat protecting me against intruders. It was right that he should be there.
He was turned away when I came out of the bathroom in my towel, and I quickly ran up the stairs to my bedroom so that he could shower. I hovered in front of my tiny closet, containing only a fraction of my clothing from the main house, suddenly unsure of myself. What do you wear after rock climbing? I guess that had been a date. What do you wear on the second part of a date? I had never been on a two-part date before. Was it supposed to be casual? Or dressier? Maybe we would go back out to dinner.
I finally settled on a light and flowy yellow dress for the hot afternoon. If Castel took off, I could change into gym shorts later.
He called my name the moment after I pulled the dress over my head.
“Come on up,” I called as I turned around. I yanked a brush through my damp hair one final time.
When Castel walked in, he was a mess of tousled hair and rumpled clothes. I had never seen his appearance in such disarray. He was wearing baggy gym shorts and a loose white T-shirt with his hair sticking up all over the place. I couldn’t stop myself from walking over and running my hands through it.
He caught my wrists—loosely, so I could escape—and pulled them down to put my palms against his chest as he leaned forward to kiss me.
He had brushed his teeth and tasted like mint. I was caught off guard with my lips parted slightly, and he only hesitated a moment before moving his tongue forward to touch me. I met him with my own as he gently caressed my bottom lip. One hand dropped from my wrist to touch my face as he pushed forward into my mouth.
I didn’t know what to do with any part of me. I was afraid of what would happen the next time he touched me, and now that moment was here. But oh, God, his mouth was so warm and his hand wrapping around to press against my lower back was just the right pressure, just the right size. It felt good to have him so close.
His hands dropped to my waist. He didn’t grab me; he just let his fingertips play around my hips. His touch promised no pain, only pleasure, and a delicious shiver ran up my spine. He misinterpreted my reaction and made to step back.
“Don’t,” I whispered, grabbing his hands and keeping them right where they were. “It feels good.”
So many things about that night had been perfect before he touched my breasts. I knew he could touch me in places that wouldn’t set me off.
I wanted to find those places.
I wanted to know what parts of my body he could touch that would make me wet between my thighs.
I wanted to know how far he could take me and still give me the pleasure I craved so badly.
He rested his hands lightly on my hip bones, slowly walking me backward as he kissed me again. We stopped right in front of the bed.
He put his hands on my cheeks and dragged my lips away from his. I took in the sight of him, his pupils huge and black but full of a promise to protect me. His lips were red, and as he licked them, I couldn’t look away.
“You tell me to stop, and I will. No questions.”
I nodded. “I’m not ready for … for that.”
He kissed my forehead so sweetly. “I know. And that’s okay. But we can try something different. Will you lie on your back?”
The position terrified me, but he spoke in low, gentle tones. His maintained a calm expression; only a trace of the desire he must have felt was evident in the way his muscles tensed around his temples. I sat down slowly, his hands in mine, and laid on my back as he knelt before me. I started to scoot farther onto the bed, but he held my hands to stop me.
“I want to take off your underwear,” he said. “Is that okay?”
I weighed the decision in my head. It should be an easy yes or no answer. But yes meant he was going to do something to me. He would touch me. But didn’t I want him to touch me? I thought about his fingers—not recklessly thrusting or prodding but caressing me—accompanied by his voice to remind me that I was always safe with him.
It was just about the underwear. Nothing else. If it was too much, I would tell him to stop.
“Yes,” I said. My voice was husky. Just saying yes gave me a thrill. That he asked and then obeyed.
He slipped his hands beneath my dress, running his palms up my thighs. Definitely the right wardrobe choice. My skin rippled in the wake of his touch, throwing goose bumps that had nothing to do with fear or a chill in the air and everything to do with the small spark that flamed in my belly and the slight dampness growing in my core. I raised my hips slightly to let him pull them off.
“Look at me,” he whispered, and I realized my eyes were screwed shut. I propped myself up on my elbows. He held my embarrassing pink briefs that were in no way sexy. I watched as he balled them in his fist and brought the bundle to his nose, inhaling deeply. I flushed hot pink all over. His eyes had fallen closed.
“Damn, you smell good,” he whispered. “I’ve wanted to do that for so damn long.” His voice had taken on a different quality. It was gravelly, almost … feral. Something he was barely keeping contained. “These are mine now.” He shoved them in his pocket, then indicated I should lie down again. I fell back with one arm thrown over my eyes in embarrassment. “You smell so good, Vail. I’ve spent so many nights lying in bed wondering what you would smell like down there. I was always so jealous that you were able to steal my blankets and wrap yourself in my scent. I wanted to do the same with you.”
Someone was moaning. The sound seemed to be coming from my throat. My knees spread a fraction wider as he pushed my skirt up over my waist. His fingers pressed into my thighs.
“Goddamn, you are gorgeous,” he whispered, and I could feel his breath on my skin. I panted harder, feeling my belly tighten in response. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said. His lips landed on my inner thigh, mere inches from my sex, and I moaned again.
He was too close. He wasn’t close enough.
“I’m going to touch you there. Is that okay?”
Oh, God. Another decision. But I wanted to feel him, feel something so badly it was making desperate. I let my legs spread a little wider.
“I need you to say yes, baby.” His words were accompanied by more kisses on my thighs. My skin lit up under his lips. Butterflies darted through my veins.
“Yes,” I breathed, barely able to say it yet wanting to scream it from the rooftop.
One finger, then two touched me and spread my pussy wider.
It was exquisite. I had lost all hope that someone could touch me like this. But it wasn’t rough or angry, not just checking to see how much lube would be necessary or if I was bleeding from the abuse. It made me feel good, not him. Why would he even bother doing this for me? Could he be getting any pleasure from this?
He stroked me so gently, running along my slick skin and folds that were awake to something I had never dared to imagine before. Every nerve ending in my body had left its post and
migrated to my pussy, vibrating from his touch and demanding him closer, begging for me.
When his finger landed on my clit, I gasped, my back arching as a completely new pleasure rippled through me. What was this? How could it possibly feel any better?
“Fuck me,” he muttered, not as a command but as an oath filled with awe. “You look so amazing.”
He touched me for a while longer, his breath hot on my skin as I writhed beneath his touch. I was warm everywhere. I felt good everywhere.
I didn’t want him to stop.
I wanted more.
“More, please,” I whispered, and he gasped. I heard him shift, bring himself up over me. Never taking his hand away, he kissed me deeply. I didn’t care that he was pinning me with his body and holding me in place. I wanted more.
“I want to taste you,” he said.
“Yes,” I breathed back. “Please.”
He obliged. A second later, his hand was gone, and he was back between my legs. He put his hands under my knees and lifted them over his shoulders, then dragged me even closer to the end of the bed.
“No questions. I’ll stop. Okay?”
I shook my head. “I’m not going to ask you to stop, Castel. Not now.”
He kissed my thigh again. It was wonderful, but I wanted him closer. I tried not to hold my breath.
He licked me first, the tip of his tongue running up the length of my slit with exquisite slowness. My breath caught, and he halted just millimeters from my clit. I clamped one of my hands in his hair.
“Please don’t stop,” I choked out.
He did it again.
He licked me over and over, moving his tongue between my folds and over my clit, staying away from my entrance. He would not be fucking me today, even with his tongue, but on that tiny bundle of nerves … it was fireworks.
I must have begun to buck my hips at one point, grinding myself harder into his face. His tongue flicked back and forth over my clit, sending lightning through my bones. I could feel his inner struggle even now; his hesitation to push me too far mixed with the desire to go harder, longer to send me screaming over the cliff’s edge without a tether. His hands gripped my thighs, and his chin rose to meet me as I thrust against his tongue.
This was what I needed. I had lost hope that something could feel this good after the last time. But I was so close, and I felt nothing but bliss. All hints of panic turned away at the door. He felt good, and I wanted more.
When he changed the direction of his tongue, it finally sent me over. My back arched up, head pressing into the mattress as the lightning spread like wildfire across my body. Every cell vibrated with pleasure. It seemed to go on forever, yet it was over all too soon.
I was panting as he pulled away and shifted my knees onto the bed before falling down beside me. His lips were wet with my juices as he ran his hand across his face to wipe them clean. I reached up to touch his lips.
“That was amazing,” I said, still shaking.
His hand tapped my nose. “I’m glad it was me.”
I leaned up to kiss him because he was too far away after that glorious connection, and I could taste myself on him. I wondered what he tasted like, and if I could ever find out. If my mind would ever let me.
“It was always going to be you, Castel. There was never anyone else.”
Everything felt wrong.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. Really, it felt so right, so incredible—like a drink of water after you’ve been crawling through a desert that stretched across ten years of your life. Or maybe a breath of fresh air after drowning.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling of having done something wrong, having traversed some uncrossable line. In a few short minutes, we had breached the divide that kept us safe from each other for all these years. Now she was in my arms not as a friend but as a lover; her legs tangled through mine not by accident but on purpose. Her skirt was still bunched around her waist, so I reached to tug it down. I took care not to let my fingers touch her skin.
“You can still touch me,” she said against my chest. Her breath warmed my skin through my shirt. “It’s not like you have to start avoiding me now that that’s over.”
I frowned. “I’ve never avoided you.”
“How about your junior year when you would barely look at me?”
I put my lips against her hair. I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t been avoiding her that year for fun. I wanted to run my hands all over her. I wanted to push her up against the wall and rip her clothes off her body in pieces and swallow her screams as I drove into her, consequences and friendships be damned.
She thought I was afraid of touching her because of her. I was afraid because of me.
“It wasn’t what you think.”
“So what was it?”
I pursed my lips, unable to put my thoughts into words. I had spent so long living in denial of my feelings, but some part of me also knew that giving in to them would be cruel to her. Because by that time, I had already made the decision to join the FBI after college, and I knew I would be moving in a little over a year.
“I wanted to devour you, Vail. I gained most of my self-control that year every time I held myself back from kissing you when we were alone in the room. I wanted to have you, but I was going to leave you soon. I didn’t want to be another reason for you to cry at night when I left.”
She lifted her head and pulled my face down to look at her. I let her cradle my cheeks in her hand, turning to kiss her palm. Everything about her was so soft. I could lie with her until the sky fell and never wake up.
“Well, I cried anyway.” She pulled my hands into hers and bound our fingers together in a jumble of knuckles and fingertips. “I’ve known what I wanted for a long time, Castel. What happened to us before … it scared me, but you were right. I needed to talk about it. And I realized it still doesn’t change how much I want you.” Her eyes were wider than I’d ever seen, and I could see the stubbornness with which she held back the tears threatening to spill over. “Did it change things for you?”
I was blown back for a full second before I leaned down and kissed her, long and deep, disentangling our hands so I could wrap my arms around her and pull her close. For years, the feel of her body against me in this illicit way was all I had hoped for. And now, I would never let her go. I couldn’t.
“Yes,” I said, and her breath caught. One tear fell down her cheek and merged with my skin. “It made me realize I would burn down the world and anything else that tried to keep you from me.”
I had just said I never wanted to be a reason for her to cry, but when she did now, I didn’t feel like a failure. Something essential had finally been spoken, breaking down something between us. That glass between us that had always let us get so close but not touch shattered on the ground. She was in my arms, and we were together, and things were as they should be.
“I held you in my heart everywhere you went. Every photo I posted online, I posted because I wanted you to see it. I have so many bad jokes saved up for rainy days in case you’re in a bad mood. Leaving you behind here was the worst decision of my life by far. I got my dream job, but I lost my dream girl.”
“You didn’t lose me,” she whispered. “I’ve always waited for you. Even without knowing I was waiting.”
“I know you did.” I dragged my lips across her forehead. “I’m sorry you were in pain for so long.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not in pain anymore.”
We were quiet for a long time, watching the lengthening shadows on the walls as the sun dipped below the horizon. We would need to eat soon. I started thinking of food we could order from the kitchen and have brought out here so I didn’t have to leave her.
“Will you braid my hair?” she asked. I sat up halfway.
“Why?”
She wouldn’t look at me. “I want to see if I can trust you to do it.”
I hesitated. She peered up at me from beneath her lashes, still dotted w
ith tears. “I trusted you not to drop me, so this seems like a logical next step.”
I sat reluctantly, bringing her with me. She tried to smile reassuringly as she turned her back to me, her black hair falling loose across her back. I brushed it back from her shoulders, letting my fingers trail along her neck. She was still wearing the necklace she had been wearing the night of her breakdown.
“What is this?” I ran my hand around the front of her neck to grab the clasp and pull it back behind her neck.
She put her hand against her chest, hiding the charm. “It’s the necklace you gave me when I passed the GED.”
My heartbeat slowed. She still had that?
Of course, she does.
“Let me see.”
She turned slightly, holding up the two small charms so I could get a better look. I reached out my hand to hold it, looking at her for permission as I touched it with my fingers. She nodded and let it drop. My fingertips grazed her sternum as I held the tiny charms in my hand. I gave this to her when she had emerged from the testing center triumphant. I had wanted to gather her in my arms and spin her around, but Ellery beat me to it, so I settled for giving her a hug.
I had been so worried she’d laugh at me, but when I dropped it into her hand, she gave me a blazing smile that set my heart on fire. She had been a month from turning eighteen and on a full ride scholarship to UCLA pending her GED score. She would be living in a dorm room of her own with a female roommate for the first time in three years.
The charm was so obvious, a little too literal—Ellery had scoffed and looked at me a bit suspiciously when I showed it to him. Two chess piece charms, a rook and a king, hung next to each other. The reminder of the promise I had made to her three years before when I told her that there would always be space for her next to me.
