Discovering Delilah (Harborside Nights, Book 2) (8 page)

“No. It’s fine. We’ll sketch some other time. Sunset or something.”

I see Drake walking toward us and I want to run in the other direction, but my legs won’t move. And when Drake holds up two cups, I remember he was getting one for me, so I can’t very well walk away without it.

“Here you go, ladies.” He hands us each a cup.

“Thanks.” I watch Ashley, dissecting the smile she flashes him, which doesn’t reach her eyes the way it does when she smiles at
me. Their fingers don’t brush when she takes the cup, and her eyes shift quickly back to me. I’m being petty, and I’m not proud of it, but I’ve gone my whole life
not
knowing what it feels like to be close to a woman. I want to be with Ashley so badly my insides ache.
If I can’t have Ashley, I’m allowed to be as petty as I want to be.

I spent the evening preparing to lay my feelings on the
line, and now that I know Ashley’s into guys, I’m not sure how I’ll survive another second, much less the night.

“I’m going to see what needs to be restocked in the kitchen.” Before Ashley can say anything, I escape into the crowd, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes. The music is pounding, people are shoulder to shoulder, leaving me to duck my head and plow right through without a bit of
finesse or a care of how they’re looking at me like I’m the rudest girl around. I don’t know what upsets me more. The fact that I’ll never be with Ashley or that I’m obviously so messed up that I can’t even read people anymore. I thought she might be into me, but now I realize that I’m totally whacked in that department.

“Dee?” Wyatt touches my arm as I speed past.

I look over my shoulder
at him and plow directly into a wall of muscle.

“Hey, hon. You okay?”

I feel Tristan’s arms circle me and look up into his chiseled, handsome face. I’ve known Tristan since I was a kid, just like I’ve known Brandon, Jesse, Brooke, and the rest of our friends here. We’ve spent summers together forever. He knows everything about me, except my darkest secret, and as his compassionate dark
eyes hold my gaze, something inside me cracks. I’ve lied to him and all my friends about who I am. I’ve lied to myself, my parents.
My fucking parents
. I can’t stop the tears from falling, and I can’t move an inch. I lean in to Tristan, soaking up the comfort of his strong arms as he holds me tight.

“Shh. Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”

Tristan just broke up with his boyfriend,
Ian, and I know it’s unfair for me to unload on him like this, but I can’t stop myself. It’s like all the excitement from last night—all my efforts at building up my courage to come out to Ashley—crashed head-on into the reality that Ashley’s with Drake.

I feel Tristan guiding me across the sand. The music gets farther away and the sound of the ocean grows louder. Wyatt must not have seen
that I was crying— thank God—because he’d be right here with us, and that would be too embarrassing.

Tristan lowers himself into the sand and brings me down beside him. I wipe my eyes and try to catch my breath.

“You okay?” He strokes my back soothingly.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I glance over his shoulder and see Jesse and Wyatt both heading toward us. “God,” I mutter.

Tristan
glances behind us. “Your saviors.”

I roll my eyes. “I know I should be thankful that so many people care about me, but some things are too embarrassing to talk about.”

“Dee? What’s wrong? Did someone do something?” Wyatt sits on my other side and drapes his arm over my shoulder.

I close my eyes, sandwiched safely—and—annoyingly, between Tristan and Wyatt. “No. I’m fine.”

Jesse
plants his thick legs in the sand like tree trunks and crosses his arms. His eyes shift from me to Tristan and back again.

“Tristan? Anything I need to take care of?” Jesse asks.

“No. No. No. You guys, I’m a big girl. I can handle this.” I say this even though I don’t feel like a big girl right now. I’m confused, and hurt, and way out of my comfort zone. I should cry on my brother’s shoulder
and suck up my broken heart without going into any detail. Just let my friendship with Ashley fade away, because seeing her every day will be too hard.

I’ve never had a broken heart before. I always thought people were overly dramatic when they said their heart hurt. Now I know they weren’t being dramatic at all. Mine feels like someone’s squeezing it so tight it might pop.

“Can you just
tell me why you’re crying? Is it Mom and Dad?” Wyatt rubs my shoulder. He’s so careful with me, always looking out for me, aware of how recently our parents died.

But this isn’t something he can fix. I’m in this alone, and I feel like I did right before walking into my finals. When my head was full of information and my mind was repeating,
I have to pass, I have to pass,
and it was all I could
do to remember how to sit down and write my name. My head is full of everything I did with Janessa, of the things I had hoped to tell Ashley, of the image of her holding on to Drake. It’s too much. And if I hear about my parents’ deaths one more time, I’m going to lose my mind. I’ve been so afraid of anyone finding out that I’m a lesbian for so many years that I can barely think. My mind is fucking
full of suppressed worries and heartache I can’t process another thing.

“Yes,” I finally yell. “Yes, I
can
tell you.” I’m so angry I’m shaking. I push to my feet and look past my brother, past Tristan and Jesse, who I know love me dearly and think I’ve lost my mind. I scan the crowd for the one and only person I
want
to share my feelings with, no matter how much it hurts. Finally I spot her
blond hair. She’s standing next to Drake, staring into her drink and running her finger around the rim of her cup. She’s not holding on to him. She looks bored.

I’ve never seen Ashley look bored.

Ever.

Bored with Drake? Even better
.

“Dee?” Wyatt’s voice brings me back to the moment as he rises beside me and touches my back. “What’s going on?”

I don’t need to look at him to
know his green eyes are full of worry, which makes me feel bad for shutting him out, but not bad enough to keep from doing it.

“I could tell you guys, but you’re not who I
need
to tell.” I stomp across the thick sand toward the only person I want. The only person I need.

I didn’t spend last night exposing myself to Janessa and all day today building up my courage just to sit down and cry
about it. Ashley sees me as I push my way through the crowd. I’m sure I have a scowl on my face, and if smoke could come from my ears, it surely would. My entire body is corded so tight it feels like it’s going to explode as I reach for her hand and pull her behind me through the crowd. She stumbles to keep up as I break free from the throng of partygoers and head around the far side of the house.
Away from the band. Away from the lights of the party and the prying eyes of our guests. I want her all to myself. Her full attention without any distractions. If I can’t have that, I know I’ll chicken out.

We step out of the light and into the shadow of the house, and I release her hand. She steps in close, breathing hard.  

“Jesus, Delilah. What’s wrong? Did I piss you off or something?”

It’s pitch-black, but I still feel too exposed. I pull her into the dark alcove by the laundry-room door. The second we step onto the decking, I feel buffered from everything and everyone, like there’s only me and Ashley. I don’t have a plan, and I definitely don’t know what I’m going to say. I’m breathing so hard I hope I can manage something intelligent. I hear her breathing at the same frantic
pace as I am—probably from being dragged away from the party by a crazy person.

I step closer, trying to bring her face into focus. Our thighs touch, and fire races through my chest. It’s a whole different feeling from what I experienced last night when I was with Janessa. This is hotter, sexier, more real. Ashley tightens her fingers around mine. I know she feels it, too. I want to see her
eyes, and I don’t know if I’m using the darkness as an excuse or not, but I step impossibly closer, pressing her against the wall. Our lips almost touch, and her eyes—
God, her incredibly sensuous brown eyes
—go as dark as the night sky.

“Are you dating Drake?” I hate myself for saying it like an accusation, but I can’t stop myself.

“What? Why?” She squeezes my hand tighter.

“Just answer
me, Ash. Yes or no.”

“No.”

Relief washes through me.

“No,” I repeat.

“No. Why?”

“I…” I’ve never done anything like this, and fear sinks into me, stealing the courage that drove me here in the first place.

She leans forward and presses her breasts to mine. Holy freaking hell. Never in my life have I been so turned on.

“Tell me,” she says in a heated whisper.

I can
smell the wine on her breath and the scent of desire rolling off of her, but I still don’t trust my instincts. She’s here with Drake. Even if she’s not dating him, she was hanging on to him like she wanted to be his.
Drake’s, not mine
. My lips part, but I can barely think. How am I going to speak?

She moves forward, pushing against me until my back connects with the rough cedar siding of the
tight alcove. She lifts my hand and presses it against the wall next to my head, then steps in closer so we’re connected again from knees to chest, and—
oh, Lord
—I can’t even think.

“What is it, Delilah? Why did you drag me over here?”

I. Can’t. Speak.

My body trembles with need and fear and so much rampant lust I know she can taste it.

“You need to tell me, Dee.”

I can’t force
a single word from my lungs. Every silent second feels like a lifetime.

“If I’m reading you right, then I’m going to do something neither of us will regret.” She stares right through me. “But if I’m reading you wrong…it could destroy our friendship.”

“Are you…?” My mouth goes dry, and I force myself to continue.
Now or never.
Now, now, now!
 

“Are you into girls?” It leaves my lips
with desperation.

“No.”

She holds my gaze as my heart splinters inside my chest.

“I’m into you,” she says before sealing her lips over mine.

Her entire body pushes against me. I press back, wanting, needing, craving every inch of her. She nudges my legs open with her knee and grinds against my thigh. Every reservation I had last night evaporates. I don’t care if I do anything right.
I need to touch her. I hold her against me with my free hand, unwilling to ease the pressure, unwilling to chance her changing her mind. Her fingernails dig into mine, and the cedar siding scrapes the back of my hand. I don’t care. The mix of pain and pleasure is hotter than hell, and
this
. Ashley’s lips on mine, her body forming to mine, it takes me to a plane I’ve never experienced. It’s surreal
and hot and delicious and sexy at once. I push through the feeling that I’m stuck in a fantasy, because if I am, I never want it to end.

She buries her hand in my hair and deepens the kiss, still holding my other hand captive beside my head. Her glorious tongue claims my mouth, possessive and hard. Then she tugs my hair and nips at my lower lip, which makes me go a little crazy. I push my
fingers beneath her skirt and fill my palms with her perfect ass. It’s still not enough. I hear myself moaning, pleading for more. I need to feel her flesh, not her silky underwear. I shove my hand beneath the material and—another greedy moan escapes from my lungs into hers—her ass is soft and firm. I can’t believe she’s letting me do this, but she is, and she’s taking, taking, taking everything I’m
willing to give. She grazes her teeth over my earlobe, and I feel like I’ve touched a live wire.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you,” she says, fast and needful, against my ear.

“Oh God, Ash.
Take me
.”

She draws back and searches my eyes. “Delilah.” It’s a heated whisper. “You’re…I wasn’t sure.”

“Neither was I.”

I can’t wait another second to kiss her again. Our fingers
are still clutched together beside my head. She slips her free hand beneath my blousy summer top, still holding my gaze, and touches my stomach. My skin prickles with need. I want to close my eyes and revel in her first touch of my breast, but I can’t. I want to see the heat in her eyes when she touches me. She presses her hand to my waist, and it feels sinfully good as her soft hands move up
and over my rib cage, then higher still, brushing over the side of my breast. We’re both barely breathing as her thumb lightly passes over my nipple, and I melt against her.

“You’re so beautiful, Delilah. I’m never going to get enough of you.”

Months of repressed desire come out in four confident words. “Take more of me.”

Her eyes widen, then narrow as her lips curve into a cunning
smile. Her hand presses flat and hard against my breast and moves in a slow circular motion, sending heat between my legs. She tugs my bra strap down my arm. She’s still holding my gaze, and I don’t know how I’m still standing. All I can think is,
More, more, more
. It feels dangerous in the dark alcove, with the party beating just beyond the wall behind us. And it makes me dizzy with desire. I
want
dangerous with Ashley. I
need
dangerous to break free of the walls I’ve built around myself.

She slides the strap of my shirt down next, baring my breast to the cool night air. I feel my nipple tighten, and when she lowers her mouth and laves it with her tongue, my head tips back and I close my eyes.
Heaven.
She grazes her teeth over the taut peak, making my hips shoot off the wall, and
I ride her thigh as she rode mine. Writhing against her, getting wetter by the second, closer to coming apart. She frees my other breast, and my shirt falls, hitching around my shorts, leaving me bare from the waist up. I should be afraid, nervous, embarrassed to be so exposed with all those people nearby, but I’m not any of those things. I’m so excited I barely care that they’re there. It helps
to know that no one will come around this side of the house. No one ever does, and I wouldn’t stop Ashley if my life depended on it.