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"Fuck." Cassie’s voice.
Wait. What?
"Shit," she releases the word in a hiss. Then she proceeds to have a conversation with her mother.
If I were a Rhodesian Ridgeback, the hackles on my back would be raised. Her mother ruined us. She ruined our life, she destroyed so much—
I bite back a snarl.
Cassie kills the call with her mother and lies there, still as can be. Her stomach growls. Loudly.
She'd just told her mother she already had dinner, but her body says different.
Guess I can't help myself when I blurt out, “Your stomach says it didn’t eat dinner.”
She says my name like she's stunned. I guess she is, though this is my boat, after all. She shouldn’t be surprised that I'm on it, should she?
We exchange guarded banter in the darkness. She mentions that I changed the name of the boat, but I don't have any interest in discussing that. Bitterness makes me ask her what answer would make her feel better about what she did. This is the closest I've come to confronting her with the truth. To letting her know that I'm aware of her secret. Now, it's our secret because I'm not in the dark anymore. I divert and turn the conversation to the fact that she destroyed me when she vanished suddenly and left her mother—the cruel, heartless maven to break it to me. And at the same time, break my heart.
Suddenly, and by damn, I don't understand how it happens, we're kissing. Our lips are locked together, and it's the same heat, the same emotions that it was three years ago and that it was over Thanksgiving..
She's begging me for more, and I'm yearning for her.
18
FOIL PACKAGING AND WHITEWATER RAFTING
CASSIE
Josh presses on the button on my jeans. It easily comes undone under his deft fingers, then the zipper follows suit, opening to Josh the way I’m dying to open my body to him. He tugs on my pants, pulling them down. The panties quickly follow.
I start to hyperventilate. I wonder if he can tell it’s that instead of panting. I can’t do this. I can’t. The idea of getting pregnant...
I feel him shifting, moving and wonder if he’s opening his pants. God. I think of the last time, under the bridge, not long ago. I want him, and I want to throw caution to the wind. I’m older now. I can deal with this. I’m not a kid that’s just getting out of high school. And yet, the idea of getting pregnant...
I try to swallow the spit that should be there but isn’t. Suddenly my mouth is dry as hell. “Josh?” I feel like I’m drying up between my legs. Apprehension wreaks havoc on my sexual appetite.
And then I hear it. The distinct sound of foil being torn. I look at him. Dimness surrounds the spotlight that the moonlight creates. In the middle of the moonbeam, a square foil package shines, casting a tiny reflection that strikes Josh’s face. It highlights his jawline and full lips. It draws attention to the lust that glints in his black eyes.
I’m relieved. The condom, that tiny sheath of latex, gives me the comfort and relief I need.
“Mhm?” He doesn’t say anything, just that humming sound that meanswhat.
“Nothing,” I mumble. Grabbing his head, I pull him down to me, taking his lips with mine, thrusting my tongue in as if whatever is in his mouth will give me that life-saving, that soul-saving I’m desperate for. I pull back slightly to say, “God, I want you.”
His own tongue takes over, not letting me be in control for long. It burns a trail, traveling from my mouth, down my neck, over the skin showing where my top parts. His tongue finds my navel. Slips in, dipping, in and out as if it’s making love to my shallow navel. The resemblance to what I want him to be doing between my legs with his tongue and his cock isn’t lost on me. I suck a breath in, my own breathing ragged in my ears.
“Please,” I say. I don’t think it even sounds like a word. Probably sounds more like nature does, when a tree limb separates from the trunk. What I want to do is scream at him to release me. What I do is rake my hands through his hair, tugging at it, twisting it between my fingers, fighting the urge to push him to the place I want him.
I have to ask. It’s been tormenting me. “Josh. Who’s that girl?”
“Girl?” His voice is hoarse, sex-filled.
“The one at the grocery store.”
“No one. She’s no one.” He lowers his head even more, his breath hot over my shaved area, his lips and warm air teasing the tiny strip I’ve left as they pass over it. My skin down there is super sensitive from shaving. My lips are bare and smooth. They feel the slightest bit of wind. A shiver passes over me as he poises, just above me, just above the place that wants him most. Only the hint of his warm breath gives an indicator that he’s waiting. If he doesn’t move, if he doesn’t do something, immediately, I’ll become a raving, screaming maniac.
Josh places a hand on each side of my folds, spreading me open, exposing my heat to the cabin’s coolish air. His tongue slams into me, making me jump and arch. My hips buck up against his mouth, driving his tongue deeper. Josh puts his hands under my ass, pushing his tongue in further, punching it back and forth as I feel an overwhelming surge pushing on my muscles. I hold back the cry that’s building, biting down on my lip to keep from screaming out his name. Sensations rise, yielding to strong vibrations as a climax builds, starting from deep within, pulsing forward. Hands wrapped around the bed covers, I writhe beneath his tongue’s incessant penetrations, my muscles squeezing, clenching, seizing.
