Lux (14 page)

He’s hard for me.

I swallow hard, absorbing his moan, sucking it down.

“You don’t know what you want,” he rasps into my neck.

“I do,” I insist quietly, rocking in his lap, grinding my hips into his, creating an exquisite, amazing friction. “I’ve wanted you all along.”

Dare pulls away, his dark eyes heavy-lidded with want for me. Warmth floods me, wetting my panties and I cling to him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” My answer is simple.

With a growl, Dare scoops me up, and carries me down the peninsula, to a place where the ground is soft. He lays me down, on his knees above me, gloriously back-lit.

“I shouldn’t,” he wavers.

“You have to,” I tell him, grabbing him and pulling him down on top of me.

His weight is delicious and perfect and he molds into me, making it seem like we’re one person as we writhe together, trying desperately to get closer.

His tongue finds mine, as his fingers explore my body, every inch, every hidden place. I arch against him, palmed in his hand, as he finds where I want him the most.

“Please,” I say softly, my breath escaping me. Dare smiles against my lips, knowing the effect on me, knowing and loving it.

He leans forward and rests his forehead against mine, and we’re so very close that I can feel his breath mingling with mine as his hands work absolute magic. Pleasure laps against me, like the water against the shore and I lose all cognizant thought, and instinct takes over.

I tug at his jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them away, and suddenly, he’s naked and in my hand, long and thick and bare.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t think.

I can only move.

I slide my hand along him, softly, gently, then harder, harder.

He bucks into me, his eyes shuttering closed.

“I’ve waited for this,” he murmurs into my neck, as he wedges his rigidity into my thighs, closer, closer. “For so long.”

“Please,” I say again, my hand cupped around his neck, pulling his mouth to mine, so I can taste him, inhale him. He pulls off my sundress, and stares at me in the sunlight, as the light exposes every plane of my body to his searching eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes glittering in the sun. “You’re so much better than I deserve.”

Wordlessly, he pulls back for a moment, and I protest, but then I hear the crinkle of a wrapper and he’s back, and he’s sliding into me and I can’t think anymore.

Motions become blurs, blurs become colors, and all I can do is feel.

His hands, his mouth, his skin. The way he slides in and out of me, the friction causing me to crest in waves, his fingers bringing me to it faster.

“I…you…
God
,” I manage to say, because the words I want won’t come.

Dare smiles slightly and slides back into me, moaning my name.

“I want you to know me,” he says, his voice a husky chant. “I want you to know me.”

I’m
knowing
him now like I’ve wanted to for weeks. Intimate and close and I can’t believe this is finally happening, I can’t believe it’s so amazing, I can’t focus, I can’t focus, I can’t focus.

The lights, the sun, the sea, Dare’s scent, his fingers, his hands.

I grip his back, where his words say LIVE FREE and I’ve never felt freer in my entire life.

And then my world explodes in a kaleidoscope of colors and lights.

I’m limp as I cling to him, as he finally arches against me and groans and says my name in a ragged whisper before collapsing against me, his head against my chest, his beautiful hands holding me close.

I can’t even answer. My legs are shaky, my mind is spinning. But as I come back to myself, as my thoughts form logically together again, as the sun hangs heavy in the sky, with the oranges and reds on the water, something comes to me. Something Dare said in the heat of the moment, exact words that I’ve heard before in my dreams.

You’re better than I deserve.

M
y swollen lips
part and I stare at him, at the face I love, at the lips that just spoke words from my dream.

It’s impossible.

Yet it’s not.

“You…there’s something…” my voice trails off and he looks at me questioningly, a smile lingering on his lips, the after effects of something beautiful.

Something that’s now tarnished by ugliness.

By confusion.

“You said I’m better than you deserve,” I say shakily, not wanting to speak the truth, because the truth sounds crazy. “Why would you say that?”

He shrugs. “Because you’re soft and honest and beautiful. You’re better than I deserve.”

“But why?” I demand persistently, refusing his answer. “You must have a reason.”

He shakes his head, still staring, still questioning.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I tell him.

“Life doesn’t make sense sometimes, Cal,” is his only reply. He takes his hand away now, the warmth gone from me, and my fingers turn instantly cool with the breeze.

It’s his turn to examine me, to study me in the breeze.

“Do you feel ok?” he asks hesitantly. “Are you… do you… you seem different.”

I shake my head. “I’m just the same. I just… those words stood out to me somehow, like I’ve heard them before,
like you’ve said them before
.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he turns pale. He shakes his head slowly, with such a strange expression on his face.

“Do you know why?” he asks strangely, an odd glint in his eye, his beautiful lips pulled tight.

“No. Do you?”

He gives me a droll look. “Why would I know your mind?” he asks vaguely, but his face tells a different story as an expression that puts my nerves on edge floods his face.

“How cryptic,” I murmur.

He shakes his head. “I’m not trying to be. It’s just… I thought… never mind. You’ve got enough to worry about right now without adding more to it.”

“Everyone has secrets,” I say blankly, my heart numb. He nods.

“Yeah. I guess.”

My blood is ice, my heart is heavy, my very being filled with terror and foreboding, when just a scant moment ago, I was filled with exquisite belonging. It’s been shattered now, by the sheer expression on Dare’s face.

“What are yours?” I ask calmly. “Your secrets, I mean. What are they, Dare? You’re hiding something and I know it. Just tell me.”

He looks sad as he looks away from me, and that terrifies me even more. My heart picks up a little as I wait, pounding in my chest, echoing in my temples.

He’s hiding something.

“I can’t tell you. Not right now. It’s not a good time.” His voice is expressionless, solemn.

“Will there ever be a good time?” I ask. He shrugs.

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

I don’t like that answer.

“We just… I… I trusted you,” I tell him limply. “And I know you’re keeping a secret and I know it affects me. I can’t…I can’t.”

My heart is racing and I suddenly feel weak, and I crawl off the slippery rocks and walk quietly back to the boat without another word. Lately, I feel more and more like I’m the crazy one, like I’m losing my mind, like the whole world is composed of secrets and I don’t have the slightest clue how to figure them out.

Dare follows me and lifts my hand to help me into the boat.

The quiet between us is loaded and charged and I don’t know why. I don’t know why I feel like I’m standing on a precipice and if I make one move, I’ll fall.

When we’re halfway across the bay, Dare sits straight up.

“Let’s go to your little cove,” he suggests softly.

He sits on the hull, his shirtless chest gleaming in the dying light, his eyes vulnerable and hopeful and I can’t say no.

Instead, I just wordlessly steer toward the cove and wedge the boat on the sand. I don’t know why, I just don’t want to stay here. I have to move. I have to think. I have to try and stay sane, because it feels like I’m fraying.

I don’t know why.

All I know is… I suddenly feel lost.

Dare holds my hand as we walk through the water, to the enclosed little inlet that I so love. Without a word, I dig out the little bag holding the lighter and I make a little driftwood bonfire.

With the violet light surrounding us, we sit facing each other over a tide pool. The moon rises over the edge of the water and this place seems ethereal and peaceful and infinite.

“Do you trust me?” Dare asks seriously, his eyes ever-so-dark. He brushes a tendril of my hair behind my ear. “I mean, really trust me?”

I’m puzzled by that, by his uncertainty.

I’m scared by the hidden meaning of his words.

I reach up and trace the lines of his face, the cleft in his chin, the strong jaw, his forehead.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask finally. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”

“That’s not an answer,” he replies.

“Then yes,” I tell him quickly. “I trust you.”

Don’t I?

He stares into my eyes, his hands on my knees. “Would you still trust me if I told you that I want to tell you everything. That I want to spill all of my secrets, everything that you’ve been wondering about… but I can’t?”

There is genuine angst in his voice, and his face is pained and I can’t figure it out.

“Are you a mass murderer?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t work. His face doesn’t change.

“No. But there are things… that I wish I could say, but can’t.”

I drop my hand, stricken by the look in his eye.

“Like what?” I ask bluntly. “Just tell me right now. Tell me
all the things,
Dare.”

He ignores that.

“You have so many moments when you think you have memories, right? Memories that seem impossible?”

I nod my head, because I’m suddenly terrified to speak.

“Maybe I’m the same way,” he says quietly, his voice husky and low. “Maybe I have the same memories, and maybe that’s because they’re real, only you’ve forgotten them.”

This stuns me, freezes me, catapults me from this moment and I sit up in the sun.

“What?” I ask stiltedly.

Dare sits up next to me, and his beautiful face is troubled.

“There are things about me that you don’t know. And if I don’t tell you about them, if I don’t tell you about them right now, terrible things might happen, and I’ll be the reason why.”

“Then tell me,” I whisper, and the words pain my heart and my heart pains my chest. “Tell me.”

He reaches over to me and his ring shines in the light and the silver touches my face and everythingeverythingeverything swirls.

The world tilts and spills.

Fragmentsfragmentsfragments

Piece together and come apart,

Like my mind,

Like Finn’s.

I grasp at him, trying to right myself and all that matters all that matters all that matters is his warmth. He grounds me, he holds me, he keeps me safe.

My fingers reach for him, then I kiss him.

His lips are warm and firm and there’s so much familiarity here… so much want and we can deal with the craziness later, after after after. Right now, I just need him. To ground me, to keep me sane. To be with me.

His hands trace my collarbone, running down my arms, setting my nerve endings on fire. They burst into flame, burning away anything else but the desire to be with him, right here and right now.

“You think you don’t deserve me,” I whisper against his neck. “But that’s not true. I’m the one… I don’t deserve
you.”

I kiss him again, and he groans in my mouth, the sound of it driving me to the brink because I know he wants me too.

“You want me,” I tell him urgently, pulling at him. “I know you do.”

“I’ve always wanted you,” he tells me roughly. “Always.”

“It’s just you and me now,” I tell him. “You and me. That’s all that matters.”

Make me feel something besides pain.

I kiss him again and his hands splay around my hips, positioning me so that I’m lodged against his hardness. I suck in a breath and look up into his eyes, eyes that hold a thousand secrets, but eyes that I love.

I love him.

“No matter what,” I whisper. He pauses from kissing my neck and looks at me questioningly as he lifts his hand to brush my hair back. The light glints from his ring, again and I’m frozen.

Because fragments come flying into my mind. Memory fragments. Images of that same exact expression, of his ring glinting in the moonlight as he tells me something. It’s a confession and he’s alarmed, upset, anxious.

It’s the night of the accident.
Before
the accident. I see his lips moving, but I can’t hear the words. It’s like he’s in a wind tunnel, the words are static, and I’ve seen this exact scene before in a dream.

I strain to hear the words from my memory.

“What’s wrong?” Dare asks me now, lowering his head once more, sliding his warm lips across my neck as he leans me back.

At this exact inopportune moment, as Dare’s touch lights my skin ablaze, the fragments finally fit into place. The puzzle pieces fit together.
At last.

The memory forms and I suck in an appalled breath as I yank away from him.

“I remember,” I whisper. Dare pauses in apprehension, his onyx eyes glittering, his hands frozen on my arms. “I’ve known you…for so long…you…you were here for me all along.
You came here for me.”

His eyes close like a curtain and I know that I’m right.

His breath is shaky and his hands tremble as he touches me, as he refuses to pull away even now.

“You have one question left, Calla,” he reminds me, his voice somber. “Ask it.”

So with fear in my heart and ice in my veins…I do.

“
What is real
?” I finally ask, choosing my words carefully. “I don’t know anymore. My memory has holes, and the memories I do have seem impossible.”

“They aren’t impossible,” Dare tells me. “Trust me.”

“Can you explain?” I ask him. “Please, please. I can’t take much more of this. I just need the truth.”

“Where do you want me to start?” Dare is resigned, and he’s sad.

“Start with the night my mom died,” I suggest.

Something wavers in Dare’s gaze, but he gathers himself.

“Do you remember it? Do you remember how bloody I was?”

I’m already shaking my head from side to side, slowly, in shock. Not because I don’t remember, but because I don’t want to.

“There was a lot of blood,” I recall, thinking about the way it’d streaked down Dare’s temple and dripped onto his shirt. It’d stained the t-shirt crimson, spreading in a terrifying pool across his chest. “I didn’t know if it was yours or… hers.”

“It was neither,” he says now, his face as grave as death. “It was Finn’s.”

But that’s impossible, because I’d only imagined that Finn died. It was my mother.

“You held me up,” my lips tremble. “When I was falling down. You held me while I waited for… Finn.”

I’d waited for Finn to call.

I’d waited and waited and waited.

The sirens wailed in the night, and I’d paced the floor.

Dare nods. “I’ve always held you up, Cal.”

“When my father came in, and said… when he told me about the accident, everything else faded away,” I recall, staring out at the ocean.
God, why does the ocean make me feel so small?
“Nothing else mattered. Nothing but him. You faded away, Dare.”

The truth is stark.

The truth is hurtful.

I lay it out there, like flesh flayed open, like pink muscle, like blood.

Dare closes his eyes, his gleaming black eyes.

“I know,” he says softly. “You didn’t remember me. For months.”

We know that. We both know that. It’s why we’re here, standing on the edge of the ocean, trying to retrieve my mind. It’s been out to sea for too long, absent from me, floundering.

I snatch at it now with frantic fingers, trying to draw all of my memories back. They’re stubborn though, my memories. They won’t all come.

But one does.

My eyes burn as I fix my gaze on Dare.

“You confessed something to me. It scared me.”

Dare’s lids are heavy and hooded, probably from the weight of guilt.

He nods. One curt, short movement.

“Do you remember what I told you?”

He’s silent, his gaze tied to mine, burning me.

I flip through my memories, fast, fast, faster… but I come up empty-handed. I only emerge with a feeling.

Fear.

Dare sees it in my eyes and looks away.

“I tried to tell you, Cal,” he says, almost pleading. “You just didn’t understand.”

His voice trails off and my heart seems to stop beating.

“I didn’t understand what?” I ask stiltedly.
Just tell me.

He lifts his head now.

“It isn’t hard to understand,” he says simply. “If you remember all that I told you. Can you try?”

I stare at him numbly. “I’ve tried already. I… it’s not there, Dare.”

Dare’s head drops the tiniest bit, almost imperceptibly, but I see it. He’s discouraged, disappointed.

He shakes his head. “It
is
there. Trust yourself, Calla. Your memories are real. Finn was dead, and then he wasn’t.”

“My mom died instead. I thought I was crazy,” I murmur. “Because if it was real, then I somehow exchanged my mother for Finn.”

Dare sighs, a ragged and broken sound. He tries to touch my hand, but I yank it away. He doesn’t get to touch me. Not anymore.

“You don’t understand,” he says quietly. “But you’re not crazy.”

I stare at him. “No, I don’t understand.”
And you have no idea what this feels like.

“You will,” he replies tiredly. “I swear to God you will.”

A lump lodges itself in my throat as the sea breeze rustles my hair. I take a deep gulp of it, filling my lungs with the clean scent.

“Did you ever love me at all?” I ask, the words choking me, because no matter what, it’s the most important thing to me right now.

Pain flashes across Dare’s face, real pain, and I brace myself.

Don’t.

Don’t.

Don’t.

Don’t hurt me.

“Of course I did,” he says quickly and firmly. “And I do still. Right now.”