Honeytrap (19 page)

Knowing Mom, the answer was no. I couldn't imagine her tying herself to one of three guys who even Marvin Wyatt thought were losers. They'd been good for a teenaged girl's wild experiment, but not for a lifetime.

I started to sink into a mental bog again, and Micah dug his fingers into my hair like he wanted to bring me back from that. But there was no roughness to him when he only loosened my hair from the rest of its ponytail.

“Don't you fall away from me again, Shelby,” he said. “Don't go dark on me.”

He was begging me to come back to him, so I couldn't leave—not after he'd done his best to defend me against his dad. Besides, Micah had been abandoned enough in life already, and I wouldn't do that to him again.

“I won't leave you,” I said. Shit, I was all mucous, my words swamped with it.

Micah reached back, rolling over so that he grabbed something on the floor. He came back with a tissue, drying my eyes and nose.

I pushed his hand away and took the tissue. “I'm disgusting.”

“No, you're not.”

“I don't mean just because I'm covered in snot and tears.” I started to pull away from him. “
I'm
disgusting.”

“Stop talking like that.” He kept petting my hair back, soothing me. “None of us can control who are our fathers are. I'm a fine case of that.”

I swallowed violently, clutching at the tissue. “All these years, I thought Mom was in love, but . . . Jesus, I'm the farthest thing from love you can get. When she found out she was pregnant with me, she must've hated what was in her. Three guys, and she'd been drinking . . .”

“And you were the result of this single, bad decision. Not a bad tradeoff.”

He sounded so reasonable. “Don't act like it's no big thing. And don't say something like, ‘At least she wasn't raped.'”

I was being harsh, but he didn't seem to mind. He went right on pacifying me with stroke after stroke, watching my face, my every awful expression.

Finally, he said, “I don't know why your mom did what she did. But she kept you, loved you . . . loves you today more than anything. She went through hell for you, having to brush off everyone's opinions and judgments in this town.”

I almost started sobbing all over again. Micah was right—Mom could've gotten an abortion, erasing her big mistake. But she hadn't. She'd braved scandal. She'd even chosen me over her own family when she'd moved out of the house and gotten a job at the diner across town, making her own way for the both of us.

Mom had possessed the courage to own up to who she was and what she'd done, even if everyone had labeled her a slut, and she'd done right by me, becoming the most responsible mom ever. I couldn't even say that I'd been as true to myself like that, because when I'd crossed a personal line, I'd hidden behind Lana Peyton.

How could I question Mom when she'd gone through so much for me?

Micah pulled me closer, and I cuddled into him. He felt so good—those strong arms around me, the warmth of his skin through his T-shirt, the familiar smell of his neck as I nuzzled against him.

My voice shook. “I want to cry for her. She endured so much, and here
I
am, having a crisis. God, when I think about all my drama this summer, it's nothing compared to what she's been through. I'm such a bitch.”

“Not really.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Okay, maybe a little.”

He made me laugh my way into another sob, hugging me even closer. But I
was
a total whiny bitch because, in the back of my mind, the questions just kept coming. Who was I now? Was I the same girl I'd been before, back when I'd thought my dad was a regular old guy? And in light of how I was conceived, was I always meant to be a Lana Peyton, as wild as my mom?

Micah kissed the top of my head until I calmed down. I felt better after that crying. Much better.

“So how're you gonna handle this?” he asked.

I sighed against him, everything about him so warm. “I have no idea. Now I know why she never gave me the truth. At least she never lied to me, though.”

“That's honorable.”

Micah Wyatt, pointing out what honor was. I wished everyone could see it and shut up about him.

I went on. “Mom's always been so honest with me—just like you are—and if she'd wanted me to know, she would've told me everything. Will she think I'll hate her if I know the truth?”

“Not hate. But you're right—she probably would've told you if she wanted you to know. It sounds like she made a definite decision, or else she could've given you some line about a visitor in town who drove off and got in a car accident and never came back. She respected you too much to lie, and maybe she'd hope for the same respect from you as far as her decision goes.”

I pressed my hands against his back, getting him as close to me as I could. He was my saving grace, the one reason I wasn't totally adrift right now. I'd never expected him, but now that he was here, I didn't want to let him go.

And he was the voice of reason, too. How
would
I handle this with Mom? I didn't want to shame her by telling her that I knew. She'd kept her dignity around me for years, and this would change everything between us.

I didn't want to shame her. Ever.

“Your dad,” I whispered against Micah. “What if he tells?”

“Baby, no one's ever gonna hurt you. Not while I'm with you, so don't worry about a thing. No one's ever gonna know.”

“But—”

“The twins got him out of town, and they gave him enough money to shut him up. Now that he let the cat out of the bag with you, he's got no leverage. I'll make sure he won't be back for a while.”

“They shouldn't have given him money for my sake.”

“We needed to do something, and I'm gonna pay him a visit myself soon, get him to see he needs to clean up his act for good.”

His cracked voice made it sound like his heart was shattering, too, and I looked up at him. His gaze was haunted, but it was strong as he looked into my eyes. I hoped I could be just as strong for him with
his
dad.

But right now, I was weak. I needed the one person who knew everything about me, and Micah was it.

“I'm gonna protect you from everything,” he murmured. “You're my Shelby. You have been since the second I saw you in the shop, when you came in with your cut-off shorts and your blond hair and tanned skin and long legs. You were everything I'd been hoping you'd be, but more. I'd wanted you, just from hearing about you, but after I met you . . .”

My arms still around him, I fisted his shirt, waiting for the rest.

It never came. But there was a feeling in the air.

Love?

It didn't seem possible that anyone could want me, with my tear-smudged eyes and tainted past. But maybe he felt it.

Love . . . Such a scary concept that I hadn't been sure I'd ever embrace again after my false start with Rex. But here was Micah, almost saying it. And it wasn't for a bet. It couldn't be, not with the deep emotion I saw in his gaze, the gray openness and vulnerability that I'd only witnessed in flashes before—flashes that I'd doubted.

He noted my silence. “I know that you don't know what you feel. It's okay. I sprung this on you, but it's just how I'm feeling.”

His honesty was killing me. It was slipping its way into my pores and rushing down, down to the most secret parts of me, meeting in my center, growing there like a warm spot I could feel. I didn't know
what
I was feeling for Micah, but I wanted to show him whatever it was, wanted to take comfort in him, forget everything
but
him.

As he watched me, I lifted my hand, reaching up to tug on the band that kept his hair gathered at his nape. When it was loose, I brushed the strands apart with my fingers. Thick and silky.

Keeping my fingers in his hair, I kissed him softly, tentatively.

“Shelby . . .” he said on a whisper.

“Don't tell me to stop.” I wanted to make him feel better, just as he'd done for me. I wasn't the only one who'd been injured today.

He would understand how happy we could make each other. It'd only taken his father's visit to make me see what I had in front of me. What I'd almost turned aside.

I kissed him again and, at first, he merely pulled at the bottom of my blouse. And the longer we kissed, the more I could feel his protests melt away. He'd been a gentleman all afternoon, lying in bed with me. And he would still be one, but in a way I'd never let him be before.

I pressed against him, feeling his hard body along my length . . . feeling something else going hard as it prodded my leg.

“I won't be able to stop,” he said against my mouth.

“I don't want you to this time,” I said, resting my hand on his chest, where his pulse rammed against his breastbone.

And when I traveled my hand lower to his belly, then to the first button at his fly, he groaned, the sound vibrating through my lips and shuddering its carnal way down until I ached for him more than ever.

I undid the first button on his jeans as he gripped my shirt, pulling me closer. He kissed me with such fervor I thought I was going to burn up, curling to ash on the outside as fire devoured me on its way in.

My shorts were pressing against my clit, and I squirmed, needing him to touch me there, to rub and massage me until that fire consumed me all the way. So I took his hand and led him to where I throbbed for him brutally, uncontrollably.

He got the hint, undoing my zipper, undoing me. At the same time, I made quick work of the buttons on his fly, too, but before I finished, I gave in to temptation, sliding my palm over the bulge in his jeans, cupping him.

Everything seemed to stop—the air in the room, time itself. Even my crazed heartbeat suspended in my chest like it'd jumped up and was hanging there, spread out like it was ready to dive into someplace a so-called angel like me had only fantasized about with Micah.

His hands were still pulling on my shirt, his breathing stopping altogether. But as I stroked up and down, feeling his excitement, he finally let that breath out on an agonized moan.

And, God, I loved hearing it. I thrilled to it, my blood flaring one direction and then another, destroying me cell by cell until I wasn't sure if there was anything left in me but liquid heat.

He put one hand over mine, pressing my palm harder against his erection. As I felt how ready he was, a burst of a different kind of fear singed me.

Sex . . . I'd never liked it much before. And here I was, about to have it again. But I'd never craved anyone like this, never wanted to explore like I was exploring Micah as I slipped my hand all the way into his pants, bringing him out, holding his hard length.

“Dammit, Shelby . . .”

Did he want me to stop? To go?

When he led my hand in slow, sure strokes over him, there was no question anymore, and I watched in erotic fascination, even if I could barely see in the dimness. I'd never watched myself touch a man before, had only felt someone else's skin against mine in the darkness or had only imagined Lana doing things like this with the lights on.

I could tell Micah was watching me stroke him, too, his forehead against mine as his breath chopped against my cheek. “I've wanted to be inside you so many times, Shelby, wanted you to touch me . . .”

“Me, too.” But not too soon. I longed for these breath-crushed moments, these rousing caresses to last forever.

I wished it all could last forever, longer than just a summer.

Was it my electrified hormones talking? I didn't care, because right now, Micah was the person I felt closest to. He was the only one who knew my biggest secret. He knew who I really was, and it didn't matter to him.

He was mine and I was his.

I skimmed my thumb over the head of him, and his hand tightened over mine. Moisture made his tip slick, and I rubbed the pre-ejaculate against him. Desperately, he kissed me, his tongue stroking mine as I responded with just as much urgent passion. My mind fogged, and I swore I could feel wisps of smoke creating sensual shapes inside me, undulating and coming more awake than ever.

As I coasted my fingers down him, he groaned into my mouth, then suddenly pushed back from me, sitting up and stripping off his T-shirt. His gaze was on me the entire time, his eyes wild, even in the dimness, and I wiggled out of my blouse, my bra, my shorts.

By the time he leaned over to his nightstand and turned on the light, he didn't have a stitch on. And, dear God, he was beautiful—his dark blond hair loose, framing that bruised, tough-guy face and brushing his wide shoulders. His muscles were smooth, chiseled under his skin. Tanned and sleek, he ran a steamy gaze over me, and without thinking, I crossed an arm over myself, even if he'd seen me before.

“Don't do that,” he whispered. “I want to see you. All of you.”

I almost told him that I'd never gone all the way with the lights on, and Rex had always been too busy for sex during the day. And after I'd brought Lana Peyton into the picture, there were times I'd wondered if he was imaging her underneath him instead of me. I wondered if he'd ever really seen me.

But the desire on Micah's face said that he wasn't thinking about Lana now, and I let my arm fall away, exposing myself to him.

No more “other woman.” I was her and she was me.

As he crawled over the bed, I realized that he'd grabbed a condom from his nightstand. I was on the pill, but I was glad he'd be coming prepared.

I didn't think about his past as he laid himself over me. How
could
I think now? I only stretched beneath him, my arms over my head. He smiled at that, then bent to kiss the tip of one of my breasts.

I arched up to his mouth just as he pulled away, and he laughed low in his throat. Then he gave me another bad-boy look as he kissed my other nipple.

Sparked by his seduction, my body reacted, my hips churning upward so that I brushed against his hard-on. The tip of it slid against my panties, against
me
, and he sucked in air as I lay back down.

“Shit, you really know how to own me.”

Did I? But he had a way of making me feel like anything I did couldn't be wrong—not with him. He didn't judge or shame me in any way. He was a part of me that'd seemed to be missing until I'd truly found him today.

I wanted him close again, and I surged up against him once more. But he was ready this time, sliding one hand underneath me and palming my butt, bringing me up to his . . . cock—yeah, that's what it was, so why not think it?

He prodded me, and I made a soft sound of need. “Micah . . .”

He had to be as fevered as I was, because he cursed, then let me go, starting to rip open the condom packaging.

“Hurry,” I whispered. Prickles of fine sweat danced over my skin, heightening my sense of bareness, making me feel sexier than I'd ever felt. Making me feel more wanted as he gave me another sizzling, long look that told me the wait would be worth it.

Then, just as I thought I'd poof away from the heat, he gave me a rascal's grin. It was that particular Micah look that always tweaked my heart a little, even when I'd tried to fight it off.

But now I was dying for him.

He slid the rubber on, pausing and then looking me over from head to toe. Slowly, he hooked his thumbs into the sides of my panties, running them over my hipbones and making me shift before he brought the material down.

“Easy now,” he whispered as he revealed more of me second by second, lowering my panties past my thighs, my calves, my feet, then tossing them away.

With another voracious gaze, he parted my legs, and I bit my lip, not knowing how much longer I could bear this.

“I still can't believe you're here,” he said, running his hands up my legs. “In my bed. With me.”

Before I could answer, he braced his hands on either side of me, his biceps straining. Then, he gently pressed his tip against my clit, making me grasp his arms and dig my nails into his skin. And when he slipped himself down between my folds, stopping just short of entering me, then back up again until he exerted more pressure against my tightest spot, I nearly cried out.

“How does that feel?” he asked. “You need more?”

“No, just . . . come on.” I planted my nails into him a little harder as he rocked toward me, pressing my clit harder. “Stop teasing . . .”

“Anything you say.” He backed away, his gaze changing so subtly that I barely recognized it. It was like his eyes were kaleidoscopes clicking into a different shade, a different emotion.

He lowered himself down to me, his fingers threading into my hair, his own hair brushing my face. His lips were inches from mine.

When he lifted one of his hands to touch my cheek, I saw that he was shaking. Not a lot, but enough so that my eyes widened.

He saw the change in my expression, but all he did was press a kiss to my lips. Everything true about him was in that kiss, and I fell through it, spiraling through a warm, color-flecked hole that led right into him.

I knew at that moment that there was no other woman he wanted to be with—there was just me, Shelby.

And he was all I wanted, too.

He ended the kiss but kept stroking my cheek. “I don't ever want you to leave,” he whispered, his hair covering part of his face. “Not ever.”

He didn't?

“I—”

But I swallowed the rest of whatever I was going to say when he entered me with a smooth thrust that stole every word, every thought from my mind. All I could see were those gray-green eyes and a new world in them. All I could feel was a rising ecstasy, gathering and going from hot to hotter.

And every time he slid in and out of me, I lost more and more of my senses. I became mist, breaking apart, floating, formless and free. I stretched in the air, then came back down as I moved with Micah. But every time I went up, I stayed there a little longer while wisps of smoke wound through the mist in me, heavier, pushing at me from the inside out . . . pushing, rising, falling . . .

Soon everything was getting tied up together in me, mist, smoke, and steam tangling into a shape that filled me up as we rocked together and made me cry sweet little sounds that I tried to hold back as that new shape pushed at me, pushed at me—

When I came, I came hard, my face buried against his neck, but he wasn't done yet, and I churned with him, pulling at his hair, urging him on and on until he climaxed, too.

I hadn't expected sex to be like this. Then again, I was getting used to my expectations being wrong.

Or very right.

Afterward, all I did was I lay against him, hearing his breath smoothing out as I looked up at him, his eyes closed, his face still bruised but more peaceful than I'd ever seen it before.

That's when I realized that I truly didn't want me to go anywhere at the end of the summer, either.

***

It was still the middle of the night when Micah finally walked me to the car shed, where the moon breathed down over the landscape—the same one where my biggest nightmare had happened today.

Now, everything was silver and perfect. So was the kiss Micah gave me as we stood by my pickup, his arms draped around me as I leaned into his chest.

I reveled in him, swoony and smitten. I didn't want the kiss to ever stop, even when he pulled away and looked down at me. We didn't say anything, though. He didn't need to, because it was all in his gaze: how he felt about me and how he didn't want me to go anywhere, even if it was only back to my room until he could see me tomorrow.

And I wanted to see him again so badly. But I had the rest of the summer with him. The rest of . . .

He kissed me again, cutting off all thought once more, then let me go.

As I drove away, I watched him in the rearview mirror, just as I'd done the first day I'd met him. But instead of wanting to get the hell away from him, all I wanted to do was stay.

***

The first thing I did after I woke up the next morning was peer at myself in my bathroom mirror, like a morning-after virgin.

Of course, I wasn't anything close to that anymore. But it stunned me how different I looked now than when I'd seen myself after Rex had popped my cherry. Back then, I'd been Little Miss Unsure in the mirror, a girl who'd been wondering if she'd done the right thing by sleeping with the boyfriend who'd been putting pressure on her. Now, though . . .

I couldn't stop smiling. Me and Micah. Micah and me.

But even through the happiness, there was a trace of something else in my smile—Marvin Wyatt and his story about my mom and . . . Well, my dad.

What the hell was I going to say to her when I went in the house this morning? She hadn't gotten home yet when I'd arrived last night, but I'd spent hours telling myself everything would be okay with her and this new knowledge about my father, just like Micah had said.

She respected you too much to lie, and maybe she'd hope for the same respect from you as far as her decision goes . . . I don't know why your mom did what she did. But she kept you, loved you . . . loves you today more than anything.

His words gave me a shot of confidence, and I put on my flip-flops to go with my nightie. Mom wasn't anyone to hide from, and the last thing I was going to do was stay in here and hide away from her.

I was all set to go, but just as I was walking toward the sliding glass door my ancient computer on my desk caught my eye. Lana Peyton's home.

Was I going to keep hiding from her, too?

Yesterday had changed me in a lot of ways, and I didn't even think twice as I booted the computer up and finally did what I should've done a long time ago.

With a few keystrokes, Lana Peyton was gone. Afterward, I stood with my hands on my hips. Well, erasing an account on ParlorFly hadn't been so hard. And you know what? I felt like I'd just
learned
how to fly, like you do in dreams sometimes.

No more Lana. No more punishing myself with the reminder of her.

Done.

But when I heard someone open the sliding glass door that led to the main house, I came back down to earth once again.
Was
I ready and willing to face Mom now? Yes. Hell, yes. I only hoped that she wouldn't see any difference in how I looked at her.

I took a huge breath then let it go, walking out of the pool house and into the main one, finding Frannie in the kitchen preparing bran muffins for breakfast. That meant my mom was still in her room.

With my pulse flailing, I climbed the stairs, went to her door, and rested my ear against it to hear if she was already up.

I heard some scuffling around inside and I quietly knocked, my heart hammering even louder now.

“
Entre
!” called Mom.

She sounded like the same sweet mom I'd always had. And she
was
, dammit. Why should the way she'd had sex with someone change anything about her for me? I'd been shot down in this town for how I'd had cybersex with Rex, so shouldn't I be the most understanding person around?