Not Looking For Love: Episode 5 (6 page)

"I'll listen, if you want to talk," I say into his chest. "Anytime."

His hand is stroking my hair now, and his heart is beating even faster than my own. "I'm gonna have to look after my dad now. And if I stay, I can't stop doing the other thing. Mike's never gonna let me. I'm really pissed at Andrew and Tina for leaving. And I'm such a bad person for even thinking it."

"You're not a bad person," I whisper.
 

He barks a laugh. "By most standards I am."

But he really isn't. He may be other things, but he's not a bad person.

"Not by any that matter to me," I mutter, and look up into his eyes, which are golden brown in this light, shining like a candlelit room. "And I don't ever want to lose you."

He guides my head to his lips, his hand tangled in my hair, my head spinning from the intensity of the kiss. His tongue in my mouth, his burning lips pressed against mine are sending a searing hot current right through my chest, liquid like lava, sharp like lightning.

My hands are sliding up his shirt, his flesh soft yet hard beneath my palms. He kisses me deeper still, as my fingers brush against his nipples. And then I'm fumbling with his belt, because I need to feel his naked skin against mine, and I can't stand another second of not being able to.
 

He tugs at my sweater and I stop what I'm doing to take it off, unclasping my bra while I'm at it. The cold air makes my nipples pop out immediately, and he takes the left one between his fingers, squeezing gently. The electric current hits me right between the legs, and I'm undoing my jeans before I even realize it.

"You really like this, don't you?" he asks, and squeezes my nipple again, rolling it between his fingers slowly, making me sigh.

"That's good to know," he mutters, and lays me down on my back like I'm not any heavier than a pillow. "Let me see what else you like."

He kisses me softly, and then his tongue traces the path down the side of my neck, right down to my nipples. I moan, arching my back, as his tongue swirls around it. My hands are travelling up at down his bicep, the heat between my legs rising like water boiling.

I help him pull my jeans and panties off, because he only has the use of one hand. His breath is hot against my clit, my hand balled up in his hair. I groan as his tongue grazes the tip of my most sensitive area.

"And you like this too," he whispers and does it again, tracing a circle with his tongue, then licking all the way down to the edge of my opening, and back up. My fingers find my nipples and I squeeze hard, tugging on them. The electric jolt meets the heat searing upwards as his licks get faster and harder. I can feel every single bump on his tongue, and I open my legs wider, whimpering as his tongue slips past my hole, right across my most sensitive spot.
 

I should be offering to do the same to him, but my entire body is taut like an elastic band and if I move just one inch, everything will snap. His licks get faster and I whimper as two of his fingers slide inside me, and his teeth clamp down on my lower lips, his tongue grazing the swollen tip. His fingers are pumping in and out of me, stroking the very spot where all heat originates, and my body is pulsing around them, heat washing over me, his tongue tracing hard, long circles across my clit. I throw my head back, as the two fronts of heat collide in an explosion that takes my breath, my voice. He keeps his fingers inside me, lets me ride it out.

His lips are gleaming when I finally look down at him.

"You like that too," he says, and color rises in my cheeks as I nod.

He pulls his fingers out slowly and climbs up so he's lying next to me.

"I guess it's your turn now, right?" I ask, running my fingers across his lips.
 

"No, I'm fine for now," he whispers and pulls the blanket over me.

I want to argue, and I will, as soon as I close my eyes for just a few minutes.

CHAPTER EIGHT

My alarm clock going off at seven wakes me the next morning. Scott's sleeping next to me, still dressed, and I scramble off the bed to turn it off before it wakes him too. I should've left here by six if I wanted to catch my 8 AM class, but that's not even a possibility now.

"What time is it?" Scott mutters just as I turn off the ringing, rubbing his eyes.

"Seven," I say.
 

"So you have to go?" he asks.

"I should," I mutter, my jeans hanging uselessly from my hand.
 

"Yeah, you should," he says and smiles, and I almost toss the jeans back down and get back into bed. But I've missed so many classes lately they might not let me graduate if I miss any more.

He sits on the edge of the bed and watches me dress, but pulls me down into his lap as soon as I'm done.

"I'll come over tomorrow, and then we'll have the whole weekend," he says, his palm wrapped around my belly.

"Please do," I whisper and kiss his neck, not sure where to find the strength to get up and walk out. But I do. Because a few minutes later I'm sitting in my freezing car, wishing it was the weekend already.

My uncle calls me just after seven on Friday morning, and it takes some time for my mind to adjust to what he's telling me, because I've been up all night working on my term paper which is due in a couple of hours.
 

"My friend has been to see yours," he says. "And it's tentatively good news. There is an experimental operation, but nothing can be done while he's in prison."

The pieces finally connect in my brain, and my grin is so wide it's hard to speak. "He might be eligible for home detention soon."

My uncle sighs, and something rattles in the phone. "They will work out the details. But what worries me is that you have friends in prison."

"He's more of an acquaintance really," I say. "Nothing to worry about. I'm still in school, still on the right track."

I haven't spoken to my uncle much since him and my aunt divorced eight years ago, and he moved to California. But somehow he's still someone I have to assure that I'm being a good girl.

He doesn't press the issue and after a few painful questions about how I'm holding up after my mom's death we finally say goodbye. Tears are rushing my eyes as I hang up, the day he held my mom's hand and told her the last doctor to confirm her diagnosis as final was the best in the field, swimming in front of my eyes like I'm living it now. But that was almost a year ago, and they all spoke the truth.

Scott doesn't pick up when I call him with the news, and when he finally calls back, I'm almost done with my classes for the day.

CHAPTER NINE

It's nine by the time Scott finally comes over on Friday night. Phillipa's out and I've been sitting by the living room window, biting my cuticles, waiting for him to come for what feels like days.

"You said you'd be here before eight," I say as I hold the front door open for him.
 

"I had things to do," he mutters and takes off his jacket. He's finally wearing a proper winter one and it's glistening wet. I guess it must have been raining all day in New York too. "Do you have something to eat?"

I shrug and move to walk to the kitchen, but he pulls me back, wrapping his arm around my waist, his thigh between mine.
 

"I'm sorry I'm late," he whispers and the touch of his cold lips against mine, sends a bolt of lighting straight through my stomach, unraveling all knots there.

I wrap my lips around his, wanting to warm them, stuggling to erase all remnants of doubt still in my mind.

"I really am hungry though," he says, his hand cupping my ass.

But I have no food, so we're forced to order take out. Then I'm straddling him on the sofa, tracing the thick tendon on the side of his neck with my tongue, rocking my hips back and forth across his lap, his erection digging into me. His hand takes forever to warm against the hot flesh of my stomach, my breasts, the small of my back.

The doorbell ringing makes me groan in frustration, and it takes real willpower for me to climb off him and get our food.

We eat on the coffee table, and I'm gulping my sweet and sour chicken down, wanting to get the meal over with as fast as possible.

"You finally got your appetite back, that's good," he says between bites, but the way his gaze is making my nipples tingle tells me it's not just concern over my health that's making him say it.

"How's that?" I ask, and chew my next mouthful more slowly.

"I was just thinking how your ass is a little small, but that should get fixed now that you're eating again," he says, as though commenting on the weather.

I just know my eyes are bulging out of my head and I'm chewing with my mouth open. I swallow hard, and force my eyes to form slits.

"How do you do that?" I ask.
 

The edges of his lips are still twisted up into a smile, but his eyes narrow. "Do what?"

"How do you manage to insult me and still make it sound like the hottest compliment?"

He reaches over and brushes a piece of rice off my chin. "Maybe you're just hearing the compliment."

I punch his arm, but I'm smiling now, because I can see a bright fire crackling in his eyes, fat snowflakes falling outside the windows of a warm, cozy cabin deep in the middle of nowhere.
 

His palm is warm against my cheek, his thumb soft as it traces the path across my lips, and I've never felt as beautiful as I do right now, under his gaze.

"What do you even see in me?" I mutter because I could never keep my mouth shut, or take a compliment. But really, he could be with any girl, so why is he sitting here with me?

He laughs, and runs his fingers through my hair, brushing them back from my face. "How long do you have?"

I smile and lean into his hand. "All night. And all the other nights after that."

He sighs and licks his lips, making them glisten in the soft light. "You're just so fresh and so wild, like some forest girl shut away from civilization for your whole life. Pure like nothing will ever spoil you." His eyes are soft, vast like a vast snowy plain. "And the way you make me feel is exactly how I imagine I'd feel spending the rest of my life somewhere in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but nature all around. So, as long as I'm with you, I don't even need any of that."
 

I'm not even really hearing his words, just seeing the images in my mind, of me, my hair blowing in the wind, the smell of pines and fresh earth all around, birds chirping in the branches above me, my skin glowing in the early morning light.

"So I'm like a fairy princess in your eyes," I ask, still feeling the wind in my hair.

He laughs. "No, you're no fairy, or a princess, really. You're more like relentless force of nature. Like a forest spirit, if you want to put a name on it. Or the wind. Maybe I'm not explaining it well. It looks a lot better in my head."

I press my lips against his and kiss him wetly. "You're explaining it just fine."

"You're also a really good lay," he says, his fingers digging into my ass.
 

The shrill sound of my phone ringing wakes me at dawn the next morning. Scott's body is pressed against mine, his arm holding me close so tightly, that the phone stops ringing by the time I finally manage to get free.

"Is something wrong, Dad?" I ask as soon as I call him back. "Why are you calling so early?"

"Something is definitely wrong!" he yells into the phone. "I spoke to your uncle last night. What are you doing associating with criminals?"

I can see his eyes bulging from his head, the scarlet color rising in his cheeks, the vein in his temple throbbing.

"I'm not," I mutter.
 

Beside me, Scott's sitting on the edge of the bed, rolling his shoulders, staring at me with wide eyes as white as snow.

"Come home now, we need to talk," Dad barks into my ear.

"There's no need," I say back.
 

"Come home, or I'm coming there. Your choice. What is happening with you, Gail?" Dad's losing it, and he won't back down until I agree. I know him well enough for that. Besides I'm the same way.

"Fine," I mutter. "I'll be there this afternoon."

"The sooner, the better," he says. "Seriously, Gail, I thought you were more grown up."

I hang up and finally meet Scott's eyes, which are turning darker by the second, white turning to black like pristine snow turning to slush.

"I have to go home today," I mutter and toss my phone on the bed.

"Yeah, I heard," he says. "I'd offer to come with you, but I don't see that ending well."

I walk over to him, and press his face against my belly, his hot breath erasing all chill. "Don't worry about it. My dad will understand."

If anyone can, he will, I'm certain of it.

"Will you come over, afterwards?" Scott asks and stands up, picking up his jeans off the floor.
 

"Nothing will stop me," I say, smiling widely, hoping to erase the cold panic still etched into his eyes.

"If you still want to, that is?"

"I want to," I assure him, and wrap my arms around his waist. His heart is thumping so fast in his chest, I'm afraid he'll collapse at any second. "And nothing will stop me."

CHAPTER TEN

"Gail, I'm in the living room!" Dad calls out as soon as the front door clicks shut behind me. But I take my time taking off my jacket before I join him there.

"Who is this car thief and how do you know him?" Dad asks, leaning forward in his chair, a glass of scotch glistening in the overhead lights on the coffee table between us.

"He's the brother of a friend," I mutter, but that doesn't sound right. "The brother of my boyfriend, I mean."

Dad slaps his knees then throws his hands up. "What are you saying, Gail? Are you dating a criminal?"

I shake my head, but I can't meet his eyes, because really I am.
 

"From what I've been able to find out, that whole family is involved in criminal activity," Dad says, and my breath hitches in my throat. "Another one of them has just been released from prison. Please tell me that's not the one you're dating."