I step forward, close, so I can speak low. It comes out in a rush. “You can tell me, Derek. It’s not going to make a difference in the way I feel about you.”
He starts to cough, takes another long drink of water, coughs again.
I put my head on his shoulder. “Admitting it is the first step.”
He shakes his head. “Not applicable here.” He puts his hockey jersey back on.
“Of course it is.”
He drains off the rest of his water bottle, pitches it, and grabs my hand. “Let’s go. We’re wasting time.”
Stubborn.
Frustrating.
Foolish.
Intoxicating.
He scares me. Thrills me. Totally confuses my sense of direction. Up in the trees. Down on the ground. In the spotlight. In his arms. I have no idea where I am.
There’s a backup at the zip line, and we have to wait. He’s in front this time. I slide my arms around his chest and lean over to ask, “How good a skier are you?”
“Boarder. Maniac level.”
I let go of him—jab my finger in his back. “Now you’re doing it on purpose.”
“I won’t tell you what we’re doing tomorrow.”
“Jumping off a mountain?”
“No—that’s Tuesday.”
chapter 15
SO RIGHT
“We’re so boring.” He met me outside my hotel again tonight. It’s darker. More clouds out. Maybe it will rain. “Last night in Lausanne, and we end up on this same bench.”
“I love this bench.” I don’t want to bore him, though. I nerve myself and let my lips slide down to his neck. He catches his breath. He tastes sweaty. Salty. Savory. Sexy. I suck harder, move my mouth, and do it again. I’m so not bored. He pries my mouth off his neck so he can administer some lip action.
“Uptown is just the bar scene at night.” His words tickle my lips.
“And we’re not into that.”
“I’m just into you.”
I laugh at how delicious he is tonight. “That sounds like a corny pop song.”
“I think it is.” His lips explore the side of my face. “Or you could write it.”
“That’s you.” I pull back so I can see him better. I like him in the dark. Somehow he’s softer, safer. I caress his face. “Did you finish my song?”
“Nope.” He frowns at me. “This beautiful angel distracted me.”
“Uh-oh.” I lean back against his arm. “I don’t want to come between you and your art.”
He grins. “Who said it was you?”
I pummel his chest. He defends himself. He bears down on me, trying to kiss me. I whip my head back and forth. When he finally gets my lips, the kissing is crazy and fast. Eager and desperate. More tongue. More passion than we’ve let loose before. His hot mouth moves to my neck, my shoulder. He sucks on my prominent collarbone. Now he’s kissing my sternum. His mouth slides lower. His hands creep higher.
I should be nervous and freaking out, but all I want is for him to keep going. I’m aching for him to touch me. I want his shirt off—my hands on his skin. His hands on mine—
But he stops.
He pulls his face away, props me up, bends over with his face in his hands. “I’m sorry.” His breath comes out in spurts.
I hang over him. “I’m so not offended.” My fingers go to my blouse buttons—undo the top three, and all I’m thinking is I’m glad that underwire bra pushes most of me into view.
Derek looks up. “Beth. Don’t. I’m trying to do what’s right here.” He turns his back to me.
I stroke his back. “I’ve never felt this. I like it.”
“It’s not right.”
It’s dark. No one can see us here. “Is there a right or wrong about it?”
“Of course there is. There are things you don’t understand.”
“It feels right.”
He slides to the far end of the bench so I can’t reach him. “Trust me. It isn’t. You don’t get it.”
“Come back, Derek.” I glance down at my bra peaking out of my shirt and whisper, “What don’t I get?”
“You know how hard it was to stop?” He glances at me over his shoulder, his eyes linger. “How hard it is for me not to jump you this second?”
I swallow. “Would that be so awful?” Something crazy and powerful has me, and I don’t want it to let me go. Enchanted? Naw. This is stronger than any magic.
He turns his back to me again. I slide down the bench to him and kiss the back of his neck. I lift his shirt from behind, try to slip it over his head.
“Knock it off.” He gasps as if he can’t breathe and tears out of my grasp, gets up, and walks over to the edge of the lake.
I go after him, wrap myself around him from behind and chew his ear.
He turns around and pushes me away. “I told you—this isn’t about sex.”
“Maybe it could be.” That doesn’t come out how I wanted it to sound—sultry and inviting. I sound scared. Pleading. Desperate.
He turns and can’t keep his eyes from drifting down my shirt, pulls me close, puts his face on my chest, murmurs, “And you’ve got condoms in your purse?”
“No.” I groan. “I’m not a—I mean, I don’t . . .”
He lifts his face, his eyes lock onto mine. “Exactly.”
“You don’t carry—I mean,” I’m not ready to give up, “shouldn’t
you
be prepared?”
He lets me go. “No. I’m prepared to control myself.”
“But . . .”
He’s looking down my blouse again, practically shaking. “You’re not making it very easy.”
“What if I never see you again?” I choke on the words. “What if this isn’t real? That I wake up tomorrow, and you’ve evaporated out of my life? I don’t want it to be too late.”
“Evaporate?” He tears his eyes away from my cleavage. “You’ve got my email, my cell.” We exchanged on our way home from the ropes. “You already know me online. What more do you want?”
That seems kind of obvious, but I don’t answer. Red-hot embarrassment catches up with me. “I’m sorry.” I fumble around with my buttons. They came undone so easy. Now my fingers are sweaty and awkward. “I’m so stupid when it comes to this stuff.”
“It messes you up, Beth. It’d mess us up. I won’t treat you like that. I’ve been there, babe, trust me.” He brushes my hands away, buttons me up. His fingers are trembling, too.
I’m such a fool. Maybe it would have gotten to a point where I got uncomfortable and tried to stop him, but there was absolutely no resistance in me. If he hadn’t stopped—
Crap. Shouldn’t I not want to give in to him? Isn’t it supposed to be the guy who wants sex?
Respect. Have I lost that? “So now we know. I’m a slut.” He’s right. It isn’t what I want.
“It was my fault, Beth. You’re a nice girl.”
“I wanted to feel you touching me.” I look down at the dark water softly lapping the rocks. “Still do.”
Derek clears his throat, puts his arm around me. “I don’t think that’s slutty. That’s how you’re supposed to feel when you love someone.”
Love
? He said “love.”
“Acting on it, though.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. “That’s trouble.”
“Especially when we’re dealing with my DNA.” Guess I need to get a backbone or carry protection.
“I know what you mean.” He’s sweet not to dwell on it. Not to force me to examine all the nitty-gritty details.
He takes my hand, and we walk toward our statue. The clouds have dropped low enough to obscure the lights across the lake. A cool breeze wafts around us. It feels good. I’m so hot.
I want to get Derek back on the topic of love, but I don’t know how. He dropped it so casual. Maybe he didn’t mean it. I’m aching to hear it again. I realize that before I let him go tonight, I need some words. I want him to tell me he’s my boyfriend. That I’m his girlfriend. Not some chick touring China. All the email addresses and cell numbers in the world mean nothing if he’s not really mine. But that’s not what I say. I get really, really stupid.
“This afternoon you were going to tell me something.”
“It’s not important.” He pushes his dark hair out of his eyes. His forehead is wrinkled with concern that I can’t fathom.
“You said it wasn’t fair.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then Meadow’s right. You have a girlfriend in the AYS? That’s why you won’t—”
“
Had
a girlfriend.” He turns and leads me back to our bench. “Let’s not waste tonight like this.”
I stop walking. “You’re not going back home to her?”
“She didn’t like my obsession with you.”
My eyebrows draw together. “You broke up over me—before we even met?”
“What kind of creep do you think I am?” He walks away from me.
I hurry after him. “All guys—”
“That’s stupid.” He takes my hand. His voice loses its edge. “You know me. Do you think I’d be going after you like this if I had a girlfriend? Even if she is in China. You must have dated a bunch of jerks.”
“Dated? No.”
“I’m not like that.”
We get to our bench. “But if it’s not about sex, why
are
you going after me?” I sit down, bring my legs up on the seat, and wrap my arms around my knees.
Derek settles next to me. “I’m addicted.” I tense when he says that word, but he doesn’t notice. “I can’t get you out of my head. First it was your voice. My ex saw it before I did and dumped me. Then I met you—”
“You like the pretty wrappings? It’s all fake. Everything you see—hair, face, eyes, clothes—even my teeth.”
“Your voice isn’t fake. And your lips,” he barely brushes them with his, “feel incredibly real.”
I freeze, hoping he’ll kiss me again, but he puts his head on my shoulder like that little boy we joked about. “I like your heart, Beth. When I found you on this bench, you opened it and swallowed me.”
I stroke his hair.
“I like that you have no clue how good you are, how gorgeous you are, how fresh and open you are.”
He’s so convincing. I almost like myself. But then I say something that reminds me I’m the Beast. “That Amabile girl, did you sleep with her?”
“
No
. And we went out a long time.”
“Do you regret—”
“
No
. Listen, Beth. I’m not going to pretend it’s going to be easy when we get back home. You’ve got your choir. I’ve got mine. We do a ton of gigs, and we’re getting more and more sponsors. I have to spend a lot of time—” He pauses, searching for words.
“What?” Shooting up? Snorting? Popping pills? No, Derek. You don’t need time for that.
“—With my family.”
I don’t believe him. He knows it.
He bends his forehead to touch mine. “I’ve got stuff going on back home that—please—I never want it to touch us. I want something pure, untainted. Be that for me, Beth.” The agony in his voice cuts into my heart.
I sit up and hold him. “Of course, of course. I’m sorry. Of course.” It’s my turn to soothe, my turn to rock. I hum my solo and sway gently.
Something awful has him. He’s running away as much as I am. I should leave right now, but then I would be the Beast. He needs me. I’m here. No way am I letting go of this. I kiss his hair and sing,
Oh, the glory of that bright day
When I cross the river Jordan.
The angels playing banjo
And the good Lord on the fiddle.
He starts to cough.
I stop singing and place the back of my hand on his forehead. “Are you coming down with something?”
He doesn’t jerk away this time. “Only you.” He tips his head so he can kiss my palm.
I pull him to his feet. “I should walk you home tonight.”
“I’m just whipped from this afternoon.” He steers me in the direction of the Mermaid.
“You’re still not telling me what you and Blake are doing tomorrow?”
“Classified.”
We cross the street to the hotel. Great. Leah and Meadow are sitting on the steps. I don’t want to kiss Derek good-bye with them watching. If we’re alone, he might slip up and use “love” again.
They jump up and run at us. “Thank goodness you’re here.”
“What?”
Meadow glares at Derek. “Sarah’s AWOL with Blake.”
Derek curses. “He was going to the bars.”
Leah nods. “We got a weird call from her. She was definitely drunk. Didn’t make a lot of sense. Told us not to wait up.”
Meadow puts her hands on her hips. “She’s a big girl. She can do what she wants, but she’s got to get back here before our wake-up call. If they’re in your room—”