Page 12 of Riding the Curve

He kissed, lapped, and grazed a path over my delicate skin, leaving me shivering beneath his wake. The heels of my Converse dug into his back as I shamelessly writhed against him, yearning for more friction to ease the burn rising between my thighs. Cool air met my back as his palm slid underneath my sweater and snaked up my spine. The unexpected sting that radiated from my neck had my body arching off the counter as his teeth nipped against my sensitive skin.

“Mmm . . . you are so damn stunning,” he hummed against my neck, nipping the sensitive spot once more before pulling back to face me. His palms held my jaw just inches away from his. One of his thumbs rose to trace my mouth reverently.

“Em—”

“Fuck,” he rasped against my swollen lips. “This is what I should have done that night.” Then he proceeded to consume them once more.

An intoxicating blend of burnt cedar from the bonfire and the vibrant citrus scent of him wove through the air around us, enveloping me in their warmth. As dangerous and rebellious as this might be, I’d never felt safer than I did right now as he held me. Every worry and fear slipped away like sand through my fingertips.

How did that saying go? ‘If loving him is wrong, then I don’t want to be right?’ Well tonight I didn’t want to be right. Tonight, I’d gladly be wrong.

Tonight, I’d embrace all the trouble I could get myself into.

“Hey Em, you in there?”

Heavy footsteps creaked on the back porch as my brother’s deep voice acted like a bucket of cold water. Panic rushed between us, Em’s strong arms tossing me off the counter and back onto my feet.

“Uh. . .Yeah man, I’ll be right out. Just give me a sec,” Emerson yelled from beside me, adjusting himself through his dark jeans.

The wood creaked once more on the porch and we simultaneously sucked in a breath. The sound faded away from the door. We didn’t move a muscle until we heard bottles clink together in the ice chest. Then we finally released our breaths.

“I’ll be back, I promise,” he said. However, his facial features reflected a different story. His olive skin, slightly paler. Eyebrows gathering inward with what looked a lot like a heaping pile of regret.

As he turned to leave, I tracked his slumped posture until I heard the back door swing shut before I moved. I carefully peeked through the window. My brother handed him a beer, and they clinked the bottles together before taking a sip.

“Hey, have you seen Hen? Harper has tequila shots with her name on it and ordered me to come find her.”

Emerson chugged his beer, taking his time to make up an answer for my brother.

“Yeah, I think I saw her come back out here after grabbing a sweatshirt. She was headed toward the fire. Let’s find her and get her those shots.”

A smile lifted my brother’s cheeks as he patted Em on the back. Then they both made their way toward the bonfire. I should have known that this would be the last time that I would ever see Emerson Lane. He was running. Just like before.

Two minutes later, the rumble of his loud engine filled the backyard.

Emerson invaded my heart and ripped it out all in one go. Never looking back.

CHAPTER 5

Emerson

Losing the incredible woman beside me was entirely my own damn fault. I let her slip through my fingers because I was too terrified to take a chance. The wake it left behind has been a lingering pain, almost as big as my Mama’s absence. Two of the most important people in my life are no longer a part of it, and my heart still doesn’t know how to handle it.

My gaze glides over her slumbering body, and I watch as her thick lashes flutter against her cheeks as she dreams. A few hours into the flight, her body had slumped over to mine. I know I should have nudged her back to her side, but I’m selfish. Instead, I gently wrapped my arm around her and pulled her in closer.

Sunlight peeks in from the window, making the honey and ruby highlights peek through her brown hair. Freckles speckle over the bridge of her nose and dust the tops of her cheeks. Her olive skin is almost glowing in the light.

Brushing away the hair from her face, I gently lift her headphones and tuck the strands behind her ear. She looks so peaceful against my shoulder, unlike earlier, when her glare toward me flamed with hurt.

From day one, Henley had the ability to bring a sense of calm to my turbulent mind. Always knew how to bring a smile to my face when I needed it most. Her light brought me through many dark days growing up. Seeing her face today stirred up all the feelings I’ve tried to keep buried inside me for so long. Just being in her presence right now has given me a little piece of serenity I desperately needed.

My thumb hovers over the bump on her forehead, and her brows furrow under my touch. Thankfully, the redness is less angry than it was a few hours ago. The black eye, however, is a deeper shade of plum. Enough to have me make a mental note to ask for another icepack when she wakes up.

Henley mumbles something unintelligible as her eyes tightly squeeze together.

“How could you?” she murmurs, her once calm face contorting in pain. Beneath my palm, her body begins to tremble.

There’s nothing I hate more than seeing her in pain. I strum my fingertips gently up and down her arm. After a few moments, her breathing evens out and the trembling ceases completely.