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My hand is still in her hair, and I pull her head back, drag my lips along her jaw, press them to her neck where I can feel her pulse, hammering away.
I’m tempted to tell her that I know. Right now, when we’re both raw and vulnerable, I want to tell her that I know she’s about to break me, but I don’t. Instead I tug her hair a little harder, take her earlobe between my teeth, wait for the catch in her breathing before I speak.
“Now you go tell them,” I whisper, my voice rough. “I’ll be waiting in my truck.”Chapter Twenty-NineJune“I’m getting ready to leave,” Silas says, still sitting by the fire. “I’ll give you a ride back, tell Levi not to worry about it.”
Everyone else is just looking at me. I can only look at Silas — the only one who really matters right now — but I can feel all those other eyes on me, knowing. Knowing.
“He already went to go get in his truck,” I say, jerking one thumb over my shoulder, toward the parking lot. “Stay as late as you want, I know you’ve been really busy at work lately so just have a good night, hang out with these guys, I’ll see you later?”
My mouth is dry, and worse, I still taste like Levi. I swallow hard but it doesn’t go away and I can’t help but replay that moment: his soft growl, his fist in my hair, the way he arced over as he lost control and I swallowed him, again and again.
Tonight, for the first time, I’m afraid of those moments. I’m afraid of how badly I want them, of how closely I treasure them. I’m afraid that those are the moments when people make bad decisions, when they pass up their dreams and then ten years later, they realize they’re stuck.
“Is everything okay?” Silas asks, frowning. “Did something happen, June?”
I feel a mess and I’m sure I look it, so I steel myself, straighten my spine, gather my wits.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just tired, and I wanted to get a head start on some freelance work tomorrow, you know?”
“I had Levi here pretty late last night,” Daniel adds, coming to my rescue. “You know how old men get tired.”
“Hey,” Silas protests.
“You didn’t finish your story about the goat,” Eli points out. “Levi’s a very responsible driver, she’ll be fine.”
I could kiss both of them right now. Except, you know, not.
“True,” Silas allows. “All right, see you tomorrow, Bug.”
“Bye!” I say, and I’m off before he can re-start his story about the goat.
“Right,” I hear Silas start. “So my buddy in North Carolina owns this farm…”
The night is cool, almost cold, but I’m not bothering with a jacket. I’m already too hot in my own skin, flushed and uncomfortable, practically running to get to Levi’s truck where he’s waiting for me and where I know I still won’t tell him.
Tomorrow, I promise myself.
First thing tomorrow, I tell him.
Then I round the corner of the building and here’s there, leaning against the side of his truck, arms folded himself and ankles crossed, contemplating the sky and waiting.
“They buy it?” he asks, voice low and slow.
“Silas did,” I say, more breathless than I should be from the walk alone. “No one else, though.”
“They don’t matter,” he says, and pulls me in. He kisses me, his fingers digging into my lower spine, and I wrap my arms around him. After a moment he pulls away, one hand on my back, and opens the passenger door in that loose-limbed, graceful way he has. He offers me his hand and helps me in, and he doesn’t look over his shoulder at the bonfire even once.Levi rests his hand on my leg for most of the drive, except when he has to shift gears. Every time he puts it back, he moves it a little higher, makes me a little bit crazier.
“Pull over,” I finally whisper as we barrel down a long, lonely stretch of the Appalachian Parkway.
“We’re almost there,” he says. “Ten more minutes.”
“Could be now,” I say as his thumb strokes my leg, callouses whispering over denim.
“Could be,” he agrees, glancing over at me with that half-smile he has. “But it’s not.”
“Levi, are you turning me down?” I tease.
“You know full well I haven’t got that kind of willpower,” he says, taking his hand from my leg, downshifting around a sharp turn, putting it back a centimeter higher. “All I’ve got is patience, and I don’t even have too much of that.”
I put my hand over his, slide it higher, still feeling reckless, like I could burn it all down tonight.
“Seems like you’ve got plenty,” I say.
“Because I want to take you home instead of pushing you against the side of my truck in a public picnic area?” he asks. “Not that I think I wouldn’t enjoy that.”
