Off Limits (7 page)

Gary grinned. “What? You don’t believe Santa came? Come on.”

“Damn, we didn’t leave milk and cookies for him.” Jenna climbed onto a stool and rested her elbows
on the island.

“The dude needs to drop a few pounds,” I said. “Probably just as well.”

Soon everyone was crowded into the kitchen, including Christopher in a tiny red Santa outfit, a little hat like Jenna’s on his small head. Jenna jumped up to take him from Emily, getting a big smile from him.

She held him up in front of her. “I’m your favorite aunt, aren’t I?”

“You’re his only aunt,” Daniel
said drily.

Jenna turned Christopher so he faced away from her, resting his diapered butt on one arm, her other arm around him. “Okay, let’s get going. I can’t wait for everyone to open your presents.”

“Wait, what about Jon?” Brenda looked over her own mug of coffee.

“Oh. Right.” Jenna paused and lowered her gaze, then appeared to take a big breath. “He’s not here, actually.”

I frowned.

“What?” Brenda moved toward Jenna. “Where is he?”

“Um, probably back in New York by now.”

Silence hung over the room. I looked at the others, everyone exchanging questioning glances. Jenna gave us all a tight smile and a shrug. “We talked last night. We agreed it would be best if he went home.”

“Oh, honey.” Brenda laid a hand on Jenna’s arm. “Did you two break up?”

I’d known this would be awkward, explaining to everyone why Jon had disappeared on Christmas morning. I sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” I squeezed Christopher’s warm, solid body a little tighter. “But it’s for the best.”

I snuck a peek at Andrew. I don’t know why. I just couldn’t help it. He was leaning against the counter, looking all big and gorgeous, dark scruff
on his jaw, his beautiful dark eyes on me. Our eyes met and I looked away, but I saw he was trying to keep his face expressionless.

Last night after everyone else had gone to bed, Jon and I had talked.

I was disappointed in him, if I was being completely honest. And when I told him that, he’d seemed hurt, which made me feel like a total bitch. “You wanted to come home with me for Christmas,”
I said to him. “But now that you’re here, I feel like you don’t really want to be.”

“I do.” He met my eyes. “I really care about you, Jenna.”

“But you didn’t want to get to know my friends and my brothers. You didn’t want to try skating. You didn’t come to church.”

“Those things just aren’t for me.”

“But they are for
me.
And if we don’t try new things for each other and spend time getting
to know the other people in our lives who are important to us, then I don’t know if we really have any kind of future together.”

Then Jon had wanted to know if this had something to do with Andrew.

“Of course not.” I stared at him. “Why would you say that?”

“Because of the way you two look at each other. The way you act around each other.”

“What?”

“You have feelings for that guy. And he definitely
has them for you. He’s wanted to punch me ever since we got here.”

“That’s ridiculous!” I’d wanted to tell him he had nothing to be jealous of, that there was nothing between Andrew and me except sibling-like affection.

But I couldn’t lie to him.

I was so confused.

In the end, maybe what happened between Jon and me
was
influenced by Andrew. Maybe I’d been disappointed in Jon because he didn’t
measure up to Andrew, like every other guy I’d dated. Maybe there wasn’t really anything wrong with Jon, and I questioned whether when we were back in New York I’d see him in the same light as before, without Andrew’s powerful presence impacting us. Maybe I shouldn’t break up with him.

But in my heart, I knew I was never going to have those kinds of feelings for Jon.

He hadn’t been angry. Hadn’t
yelled or argued with me. We’d talked a bit more and agreed it would be less awkward for everyone if he left that night. It was only a couple of hours’ drive. I told him I’d figure out a way to get back to New York on the twenty-seventh, take the train or something. He’d left, looking hurt and sad, and I felt terrible.

Especially because even though I was confused about my feelings for Andrew,
I knew that he and I would never have a future together either.

When I was fourteen, Andrew came to live with us. I’d worshipped him forever. He was my big brother’s best friend, handsome and funny and nice to me, nicer than Connor anyway. He and Connor played hockey together. Andrew’s older brother died when I was twelve and Andrew was fourteen. His brother had contracted meningitis, got
very sick, and died. It had been shocking and horrifying to the entire community.

His parents hadn’t dealt well with the loss of their older son. They’d both started drinking a lot, blaming each other instead of being there for each other, and basically ignoring Andrew. He’d become quiet and withdrawn during that time and had started hanging out at our place a lot more. How many times I had tried
to break through that sadness with some kind of stupid joke, or by making him brownies (even though I, like my mother, hated baking). My heart had ached for him, and I knew Mom and Dad had felt the same.

I’d overheard a late-night conversation they’d once had in the kitchen, talking about Andrew’s parents and how pissed they were at what was happening. Dad had talked about how Andrew was throwing
himself into his hockey because it was an escape from how horrible things were at home. Then Andrew’s dad had left. Just disappeared.

On her own, his mom had drunk even more, and then one night she crashed her car on the Oak Hill Bridge and died. And Andrew had no one.

I don’t even know how it came about, but suddenly Andrew was living with us. I don’t think Mom and Dad hesitated one single
second after hearing the news of his mom’s death. He was almost a part of our family anyway at that point, spending more and more time with us because life with his mom was so miserable.

He was quiet at first, cautious and polite. He helped around the house without being asked, which made the rest of us look bad because we were normal teenagers who had better things to do than take out the trash
or mow the lawn—important things like videogames and online chats with friends and watching TV. Andrew complimented Mom’s cooking, which we all knew was sucking up because Mom’s not the greatest cook. He and Dad watched hockey and talked about hockey and spent time practicing, which thrilled Dad. Dad loved coaching hockey but never got the respect from his own sons that he got from Andrew.

After
about a year, Andrew relaxed more. He was still the best behaved of all of us, but we saw his wide smile and dimples more often. He teased me and helped me with my math homework, because he wasn’t just a jock, he was smart, and he tried to give me advice about boys.

I wasn’t interested in anyone but him.

Andrew got a hockey scholarship to Moorehead College in New Hampshire—not too far from home,
a great school with a great NCAA hockey program. After that, I saw him only when he came home for the odd weekend or holidays. I knew he dated girls at Moorehead, and I had to accept the fact that he saw me as a little sister. So I went out with a few guys…but nobody was ever good enough.

Then I was about to graduate from high school and had to decide where I wanted to go to college. Moorehead
seemed like a good choice. They didn’t have a teaching program, but I thought a business degree would be a good idea for me, and then I was there, at Moorehead with Andrew.

My parents asked him to keep an eye on me, of course, as you would with a little sister. And he’d agreed to. We saw each other sometimes, but he was super busy with classes and hockey. And other girls. Then one Friday night
in late November, I was trying to do my homework for the stats class I was taking. I fucking hated that course, and I was so fucking frustrated because I wasn’t getting it. Andrew happened to stop by my dorm room and found me with tears rolling down my face and dripping onto my papers.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, peanut?”

I looked up at him, embarrassed, swiping at my tears. “Nothing. I’m just
a stupid idiot, that’s all.”

“That is not true.” He grabbed my roommate’s chair, my roommate who was away for the weekend, and swung it around next to me. “What’s going on?”

“I just can’t get this. Nonparametric tests of significance. What the fuck.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve helped. I took that course my freshman year.”

I rubbed away more tears. “You’re busy.”

“Hey, I’m not too
busy to help you. Come on, we’ll figure this out.”

We stretched out on my bed, side by side, looking at my textbook. He started explaining the Chi-Square Test, and unbelievably it finally all made sense. An hour later, done with my assignment, I was so relieved I threw my arms around him and leaned in to kiss his cheek. He turned his face just at that moment and our mouths met.

My skin was suddenly
burning everywhere. I closed my eyes and brushed my mouth over his again. With our noses touching, we both went very still. Our breath mingled and our eyes met. Anticipation and apprehension tightened every nerve ending in my body. I waited, my heart pounding.

Then Andrew groaned, his eyes closed, and he kissed me back.

Oh my God. Oh my God. It was finally happening. I’d loved him forever, and
finally he was kissing me—not like a sister or a friend, but like someone he wanted as much as I wanted him. His arms came around me and he rolled me to my back, moving over me, kissing me again and again.

I gripped his big shoulders and held on tight. I was never letting him go. God, I’d wanted this for so long. I’d wanted him.

We kissed over and over. He buried his hands in my hair, holding
my head. His lips were strong and tender and sure. Gently he drew my bottom lip between his and sucked it, then licked over it with his tongue. Liquid heat pooled between my thighs and I made helpless whimpering sounds, pushing up against his hard body. I couldn’t get close enough. I ached low inside me, a deep hungry ache that had my hips rolling against his.

He settled between my legs, his
elbows pushing into the mattress, his hands in my hair. He sucked on my top lip, then my bottom lip, then kissed my nose and eyelids. “Jenna.”

“Yes. Yes, Andrew. Kiss me again.”

He did, his mouth covering mine and opening me to him. My hands wandered everywhere I could reach—his arms, his shoulders, his back. I cupped his ass through soft jeans, pulling him harder against me. His fingers in
my hair sent cascades of sensation over my skin. “Oh God, Andrew. I want you so much. Please.”

“Want you too.” He sucked on my earlobe, his breath tickling me. “Christ, baby, want you too.”

I planted a foot into the mattress and rolled him. He kind of helped me. Then I was on top of him, kissing him everywhere I could—his square jaw, his neck, his throat. I rubbed my cheek against his stubbled
skin, breathing in his scent. It made me dizzy, like I was high. He smelled so good, clean and zesty. I licked him then, as if I wanted to eat him up.

His groan made my inner muscles clench hard and his fingers tightened on my butt. I started opening the buttons of his shirt, one of the soft plaid ones he often wore, revealing his chest, and I bent my head to kiss him and breathe in the scent
of his skin there too. “You smell so good.” I touched my tongue to his skin again. “And taste good too.”

“Jenna, baby. You’re not as innocent as you seem.”

“I’m not innocent.” I lifted my head and blinked at him, then tilted my chin. “You just don’t know me that way.” I parted the sides of his shirt and licked over one nipple, then the other.

“Oh Christ.” He rolled me again, trapping me under
him once more.

“That feels so good.” My voice came out breathy. My hands slid into his thick, silky hair, my palms delighted by the feel of it. “I love how heavy you are on me.”

“Don’t wanna squish you.”

“Mmm. You’re not.” I pulled his mouth down to mine again.

He cupped my face, fingers sliding beneath my ears, one thumb teasing the corner of my mouth, then tugging my lower lip down, opening
me for him. He angled his head and dipped down to kiss me again, his tongue sweeping into my mouth.

He slid a hand under my T-shirt and when his rough fingertips grazed my bare skin, a hard shiver worked over my body. He rolled me to my back again, this time on his side next to me, kissing my mouth. My breasts swelled and ached for his touch. He took his time, teasing me, making me crazed with
need, finally cupping one breast and gently squeezing.

I groaned and nipped at his bottom lip. He smiled against my mouth, his nose pressed alongside mine. I dared to open my eyes and look into his. Scorching hot and hungry.

Yes, yes, God yes. Andrew. I touched his face, drank in the sight of him looking at me with such naked, hot desire. Was this real?

My blood raced hot, throbbing in my veins.
He slid one hand to my neck, resting his thumb over the wild flutter of my pulse. I ached everywhere, a desperate, needy ache I’d never felt before.

He kissed me again, caressing my breast through my thin bra. My nipple tightened into a hard, aching point and I arched my back, pushing myself deeper into his palm. We made out like that for a long time, rolling around on my bed, legs twined together,
my soft girl parts against his hard boy parts, rubbing and pressing each other there. I was frantic with need, burning with fever. I knew he felt the same; the thick heat of his erection pushed into me as we arched into each other.

Pleasure buzzed at my core, growing, tightening. I was so close to coming, just like that, and I couldn’t stop myself. The overwhelming need to come made me tip my
pelvis a little more, and there it was, wave after wave of heat rippling through me. I squeezed my eyes shut, my face pressed to his shoulder, pulsing against him.

“Jenna.” His husky voice penetrated my orgasmic haze. “Holy shit, Jenna.”

I refused to be embarrassed or apologize. I’d gotten exactly what I’d wanted. Well, not quite. What I really wanted was him inside me. Him coming too, feeling
as good as I did. “Andrew, please…please, I want you inside me.”

“Fuck yeah. Come on, let’s get these clothes off.” He pushed up to straddle me and shoved my T-shirt up. I did an ab crunch and yanked it off over my head, reached behind me, and unfastened my bra. My hair was all in my face. Andrew unbuttoned my jeans and gave the zipper a tug, then dragged them down over my thighs, leaving me
in my pink cotton bikini panties.

I swallowed hard as his gaze swept over me, from my messy hair down over bare breasts, following his hands as they pulled my jeans down my legs. For a moment he wrestled to get them over my ankles and feet. “Sorry,” I gasped. “Skinny jeans are a bitch to get off sometimes.” I tried to help him and ended up kicking him in the thigh. “Oh my God, sorry!”

His lips
twitched. “It’s okay.” Finally he got them off and took my socks along with them. He dropped them on the floor.

“Now you.” I watched with avid eyes, eager to see his beautiful body. Yeah, I’d seen it before at the beach or the pool in the summer. He was ripped. He worked hard at it. But this time, it was for me. He shrugged out of his unbuttoned shirt, balled it up, and tossed it aside. Then
he rose onto his knees to undo loose, low-rise jeans.