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“Your boat.Trash.Why did you rename it? When did you do that?”
His laugh is low, almost self-deprecating. “What answer would make you feel better about what you did?”
We’re back to discussing the breakup. I don’t want to talk about it. It brings up painful memories. Memories of things I can’t undo. “Will you forever hold against me a mistake I made when I was younger?”
“I like how you call destroying me a mistake. Like you were driving somewhere and made a wrong turn. Or like you forgot to pick something up from the grocery store.” His teeth are clenched, the words forced from his mouth. His tone tells me it devastated him. Does he think crushing him did any less to me?
There’s a small creaking sound, like he’s standing up, moving.
I sigh. “Do we have to live in the past?”
“No.” His voice is closer. “We can live in the now.” His voice is right next to me, and he’s close, his breath warm against my cheek. “How much in the now do you want to be?”
Holy hell. He doesn’t have to say anything else. Not a damned thing. I feel it all the way to my core. The innuendo is right there, I’m on fire for him. I want to fall into him, fall into what we used to be. I wish I could shove aside the past, make it not exist, and put Josh and Cassie back together.
How much in the now do I want to be?I want to be drowning in the now, if he’ll be in it with me.
How am I supposed to answer him? Answering that question honestly will put me in his control. Do I trust him with that? Can someone who was hurt not return the pain in kind? Can he forgive? Or will he seek to destroy me in retribution, even if he doesn’t plan to. Pain is such a tricky thing. I’m not willing to be in any more pain than I’ve already been.
We were never one for words. Our passion, our feelings were always conveyed in actions, especially in the sex that we had. The sex that consumed us, invested us, built us into something solid. The chemistry wasn’t conveyed with what words we used, but with the tone those words were spoken. The tone he just used when he said,‘How much in the now do you want to be.’
I feel his fingertips on my lips, tracing their shape, then drifting lower, over my chin, to my earlobe, journeying over my jawline, then down to the hollow in my neck.
I can’t seem to get my lungs to work. My breath is trapped deep within my chest, the same way my body is trapped and waiting for his touch. There’s nothing I want more right now than his touch. My breasts rise, trying to get closer to the hand that’s traveling over my chest.
His nomadic fingertips cross over the fabric of my bra and touch my nipple, a nipple that’s pushing up against lace. Instantly, the rosy peak hardens, begging for attention, while at the same time an invisible cord that’s connecting my nipple to my clit begins a thrum as if it’s a guitar string that’s being pulsed.
“Cassie.” My name is curse and a blessing on his lips, groaned with the urgency of passion, hissed with the reluctance of despair.
He unbuttons my red, cotton Christmas top. One button and then another yield to fingers that don’t fumble. Another button and some more of me is showing, pale skin glowing in a moon that’s somehow now sending a beam of light through a porthole.When did the moon rise?That question travels across my mind, then vanishes as if falling off a cliffed horizon, irrelevant. Everything is irrelevant now except for Josh’s presence, his promise-laden presence.
He pulls my bra down, releasing my breasts, cool air making the hardened beads even more taut. He blows cool air on my flesh. A shudder ripples over my body in anticipation. I watch his face in that silver moonbeam. He’s my Josh all over again. Beautiful warrior, ardent lover. Fierce, passionate, larger-than-life.
He cups my breast with both hands, pushing it higher, isolating it, claiming it. His tongue darts out, lapping at my nipple, flicking it with a hard tongue. As if on cue, moisture forms deep within, a gush of it, and begins its downward journey. He sucks my nipple into his mouth, drawing on it. His teeth clamp down. I arch my back, groaning from the pain and the pleasure. His tongue flicks back and forth, gently teasing the nub he’s just released from the agony of his bite. I groan, unable to hold it back. He bites down on it again, sharp front teeth making me quiver and cry out, then he sucks away the pain, leaving me breathless.
Josh raises his head, and a whimper slips from between my lips. Anguish at having his sweet torture halted.
“Is your pussy wet for me?” His hoarseness gives away the desire that he’s holding back.
A flood ensues. He knows when he talks like that it makes it worse—or is that better?—I suppose it would be called better, but it’s sheer torment for me, to feel my body’s inner muscles clenching with the need to have his cock in me. And he knows it. He’s always known what he does to me.
My back arches, my mound pushing into air, my body wanting to be filled. His hand cups me between my legs, pressing down, my clit teased beneath layers of jeans, cotton panties, and the hood of flesh that covers it.
“God. Yes.” All I can manage is a whisper. That’s it. A whisper that is torn from me, body and soul. “Please.” Begging for him. Begging for us.
17
OVERCAST SKIES AND BUZZING SOUNDS
JOSH
I take the drive to the docks. Overcast skies, of course. It's like the skies want to match my mood. I haven't seen Cassie at the bridge. I staked it out for the first two days. Fruitlessly staked it out. Cassie was a no-show. I actually drove by her parents’ house. Her car's there, so she's in town. Clearly, she isn't interested in seeing me.
I turn into the dock parking lot and take the spot directly in front of the boat. Of course, the boat's empty, just like the docks are, mostly, because who the hell's going to be down here when they could be with family. Just a loser like me. Trash, like me.
The sun sets while I sit in Ol' Blue and wonder why I'm here at all. Does the boat really need me to check on it? Nah. I did that last week. Still, I have nothing better to do on Christmas Eve but to go mope on the boat I renamedTrashduring a fit of bitterness.
It's dark in the cabin, but it's not like it matters, I know this space like the back of my hand. No sooner do I walk into the cabin than I notice two things. One, a series of lumps on the bed, practically announcing that someone's in the bed, then a rectangular light and a buzzing sound that accompanies it. A cell phone.
