Beatless (21 page)

I leaned against his dresser, my gaze wandering around his room and lingering on the plain white sheets beneath a faded blue plaid comforter. All of it was falling haphazardly off the mattress like he’d kicked it off in his sleep. “Every word of it.”

He closed the distance between us before I could even take a proper breath. “What now?”

I shrugged and reached for him, pulling his hips toward mine. “I don’t care what happens next. That doesn’t matter. Tonight does. And then we’ll see how tomorrow goes and maybe someday you’ll be able to say it back . . .”

Tucker laughed lightly and anchored his hands on my waist, flexing against me with force. “You want me to say it.”

I nodded, my chest flushing hot at his proximity and his words. “. . . not forcing you . . .”

His face hovered above my own, his eyes downcast as he pulled me even closer. “I’ve loved you since I was thirteen years old, Mallory Durham. But if you need me to say it, then I’ll say it. I’m going to say that I love you. And then I’m going to kiss you. Here.” His lips brushed mine, a soft whisper of heat. “And here.” He pressed an open mouth kiss against my neck and my skin prickled all over, lips parting in a gasp. His palms dragged heavy and with purpose under the hem of my camisole, around my back, up to my shoulder blades, causing my spine to arch.

His lips traveled across the top of my breasts and I didn’t hold back the sound that came out of my mouth.

“Here and here.”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good.” I held onto his shoulders while he sank to his knees. His palms splayed open across my stomach and he lifted the silky fabric to run his nose above my belly button.

He went still for a moment and I opened my eyes, slowly adjusting to the dim lighting to look down at him. He peeked up at me from where he was kneeling, and blinked twice. “I do love you. In case you were unsure. In case you still had doubts . . . because of everything.”

I ran my fingers through his hair and smiled. “Say it again.”

He laughed, and the sound made my whole body vibrate with happiness. Sliding his arms around the back of my thighs, he stood, taking me with him. Three steps across his small room, he let me fall onto the middle of his unmade bed. He was still in the white shirt and tie, and it swayed in front of him as he kneeled on the mattress and placed his hands on either side of my face. “I love you,” he whispered, and I could feel that he meant it.

I grinned up at him and tugged playfully at the tie. “I missed you. Is it okay to say that? This you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I bet you did.”

“Oh God,” I groaned and pushed his chest. “Not like that.”

“Sure.”

The light was back in his eyes and I wondered how I’d lived without it for so many months. “I missed your smile. The one you give only to me. How your eyes used to light up when we were together.” My confessions were tumbling out of my mouth faster than I could think them through.

He sat back, his legs straddling mine, pinned beneath him once again. With gentle fingers, he traced the top of the jeans I was wearing, and tugged, exposing the soft skin below my navel. My breathing slowed, heavy exhales escaping open lips as he gazed down between us.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his eyelashes fluttering up and down. “If it’s too soon or whatever . . .”

“Stop asking for permission and just . . . take off my clothes, Tucker.”

He smirked and lifted up a little, popping the button on my jeans and pulling the zipper down slowly. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He shimmied the denim off my legs, tugging while I fought to rid myself of the stupid shoes that Regina was probably writing a letter about that very second. They hit the floor with a soft thud and I scooted back on the bed, surrounded by his blanket and his smell.

His hands roamed my legs from calf to thigh and he pressed a soft kiss to my knee before crawling toward me. I took my time undoing his tie and slipping each button through its hole. My fingers touched his skin everywhere it was revealed; over his shoulders and down his arms. Across his chest when I finally got his shirt and undershirt off. The sound of his belt sliding through the buckle made my heart rate accelerate and I fumbled with the soft leather, leaning forward to watch it fall away as I slowly opened his dress pants to shift them down over his hips.

We kissed, long and slow, like the first time. But I knew him, and he knew me. It felt new and familiar all at once. As the rest of our clothes were pulled overhead or tugged down, we barely broke apart. His lips were just as soft as they’d always been, but there wasn’t an agenda in his kiss. There wasn’t anger or hurt there, just heat and want. I trembled against him, pulling him down, the need to have his skin on mine so overwhelming that I felt like I was drowning without it. It had been so long . . .

His tongue swept between my lips and I chased it with my own, pulling his upper lip between my teeth gently. He reached between us, his open hand traveling lower, slipping farther until my knees parted and I gasped under his touch. His hips lifted, his fingers delving, searching until I rocked against him, my face buried against his chest. Tucker moved downward, his lips traveling over my chest until he kissed there, too, his other hand cupping my breast gently.

My hands fisted and opened spastically, trying to get hold of something, finally grabbing onto his blanket to ground myself under his touch. It hadn’t been like this the last time - the first and only time. This was more.

My back bowed upwards and I shuddered, like I was coming up from the water for air.

He made a sound, and pulled his hand from between us, lifting his face to stare at me.

I shook my head and pulled at the blanket again, collapsing beneath him and mumbling his name. I tried to say that I needed him, to tell him that I wanted him. But the words were just out of reach. I reached up and held my shaking hands to his face. “Do you have anything?”

His eyes closed and he nodded once; his movement hesitant like he didn’t want to leave me there for even a second. He leaned over to reach his nightstand and I watched his body elongate, every inch of him on display for my greedy eyes. When he rolled back over, he had a long sleeve of blue foil condoms in his hand.

“Dear God, that’s a lot.” I laughed and laid my head back down on his bed.

“You said be prepared. I didn’t think our first time would be our only . . .”

I reached for him then, taking his wrist in my hand and plucking the sleeve from him. Ripping one off, I threw the rest over my head and listened as they hit the floor. With a look that I could only hope was sultry, I handed him the square. “I’m glad you have more.”

I watched, unabashed, as he rolled it on and threw the foil to the floor. My gaze traveled to his face and stayed there as he settled between my thighs and pulled my knees around his waist. He lifted them and wrapped my legs around, before lowering his face to mine, kissing me slowly. I tilted to meet him and gripped his shoulders as we acclimated to each other again.

This time there was no pain or sadness.

He touched gently, cradling my face, kissing my jaw while he breathed in short bursts against my skin. The movement between us was slow, his pelvis rocking forward for achingly long seconds before he retreated. Each time he let out a small sound and his fingers would flex against whatever part of my body he was holding onto. It left me dizzy and breathless and I wanted more, but it was perfect the way it was, so I closed my eyes and held him close.

His hands slid up my arms, raising them above my head, the heels of his palms pressing my elbows into the soft material below. His mouth sought out mine and his knees slid higher on the bed, his hips rising. The angle changed and I fisted his sheets again, my own knees lifting higher. It was unexpected, the sound that escaped, and his movements sped up, his eyes screwed up tight.

I arched into him, greedy for more, his body stretched completely over mine. My muscles ached, but everything felt so aligned and I lost myself in him, pulling upwards more and more until I thought I’d break beneath him.

“Tucker,” I gasped.

He said my name, his eyes wide open before he let out a quiet moan and went still, the vein in his neck becoming more prominent, his pulse racing. His breathing was unsteady as he lowered himself on top of me and kissed my lips, his hands sliding down from my elbows, over my arms and resting by the side of my head. “I tried to go slow,” he laughed apologetically. “I just . . . I couldn’t.”

I had to laugh, too. “I don’t mind.”

He nodded and kissed my throat. “Next time. I swear.”

I stretched beneath him, my bones like liquid, my skin flushed and tingling. “And . . . that will be when?”

His eyebrows rose and he moved off me, rolling to his side. He slid a finger down the middle of my chest and looked toward his lap. “Stay like this and it’ll probably be about fifteen minutes.”

I rolled to my side and joined in his staring. “You just let me know. I’m not going anywhere.”

***

He didn’t lie, and I didn’t mind. No one was home and we ended up in the kitchen, looking for a midnight snack when he bent me over the countertop. And then the couch. And finally, back in his room, against the desk and wall.

I awoke at three in the morning to feel him pressed against my back, and that time, I rolled him over and crawled onto his lap to fold my body against his and hold his face in my hands while we took it slow once again.

Morning came much too quickly, and I fought off waking up for as long as I could. It was almost noon when we rolled over and he held up a hand to ward off the sun’s rude rays. I leaned on my elbow and watched him cross to the bathroom door, unashamed of the feelings that welled up inside of me. I loved him. He loved me. There was nothing more perfect and it felt like there wasn’t a thing in the world that could ruin it.

When he flopped back onto the bed, I looked away. “I need a toothbrush.”

He kissed the side of my face and reached down to tickle my side. I folded and laughed, pulling his hand across my stomach.

“I have a travel one, if that’s not gross.”

I gave him a look. “Using your toothbrush after last night? Not an issue.”

He left me to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. My entire body was sore in the best way. My hair was still in that hair sprayed ponytail, but looked worse for wear. Pulling it down only made it scarier, so I took a minute to brush it as best as I could and then put it back up. I desperately needed a shower but using his boy shampoo did not appeal to me at all. When I’d dressed, I went down the hall toward the kitchen, where I found Tucker cooking eggs, and two mugs full of coffee on the counter.

“You do cook,” I chided and took my cup.

“I said eggs. I said I cook eggs.”

“And coffee.”

“You don’t cook coffee.” He pointed the spatula at me and grinned.

We ate standing up, staring at each other and laughing for no reason. Love was like that. It was unexpected bouts of happiness between the heartbreak and anxiety.

We sat on the couch, facing one another, our legs entwined while we drank the coffee. And I couldn’t stop the way my heart beat so mercilessly under his gaze.

It was a little after one when I finally gave in to the need for a shower and a fresh set of clothes. “I should head home. I need to clean up. Get changed. And . . . I need to check on my aunt. I’ve been so busy this last week that I haven’t been home at a decent time to see her. And she didn’t show up to either of my performances, even though she promised.”

His fingers rubbed wide circles across the top of my hand and he leaned his head against the back of the couch. “If you insist.” Tucker’s smile could rip my heart right in two and sew it back together in the space of a second. And I didn’t mind it one bit.

It suddenly dawned on me that I had left all of my stuff at the school when I ran out to find Tucker. “I don’t have my keys or phone or anything. Hopefully Sam will be awake to let me in.” If it came down to it, I could use Tucker’s phone to call Sara and ask her to meet me at the house, since she’d promised to grab my things.

He drove me home, music playing loudly, and the windows rolled down, like nothing had ever changed. And maybe that was true - love could fill the gaps and restore lost time.

As he pulled into my driveway, a strange feeling settled into my stomach. The house appeared exactly the same as when I’d left it the day before. Yet what I noticed immediately was that the garage door was wide open.

Sam hadn’t driven in weeks.

She never left the garage door open.

We walked in, the silence heavier than ever. Some days Sam would have the television on in the living room and I’d have to turn it off. Or I could hear her watching a show from behind the closed door of her room. Most days she had a cereal bowl in the sink and I’d wash it out of habit. But there was nothing.

“Let me go check on Sam,” I told Tucker quietly. I expected him to stay behind, but he followed each of my steps up the stairs. Outside Sam’s door, I waited, holding my breath to try and hear something from her room. There was no real reason for me to think anything was wrong. She’d gone into hiding for a few days at a time before. There was just this feeling . . .

“Aunt Sam?” I knocked on the door and waited. No response came. No sound. Not the creak of the springs in her mattress. Not the background noise of the television or water running. Not even snoring, which she did on nights when she slept too deeply.

I looked over my shoulder at Tucker, and he tilted his head in question.

“Aunt Sam.” I banged harder and tried the doorknob, but it was locked. “Hey, I need to talk to you, okay? Can you open the door? You didn’t come to my play last night or the night before, and if you’re sick or whatever, I really think it’s time we get you to a doctor.” Panic was rising in hot waves of nausea while I waited.

Still, nothing happened.

“In the kitchen, third drawer on the left from the sink, there’s a screwdriver with a yellow handle. Can you get it, please?” He nodded once and ran down the stairs. I could hear him in the kitchen. I could hear him pulling drawers open. But I could not hear a sound from behind Sam’s door.