Make Me Lose Control (14 page)

“England?” a voice asked.

London’s heart leaped, bumping against her throat. “Yes,” she croaked. “Um...Colton?” She knew he couldn’t see her clearly and it made her both relieved and disappointed.

“Come in, darlin’,” another male voice said. “Are you as cute as you sound?”

“Sam...” Colton said, a hint of warning in his voice.

“What? We can use another female.”

“Oh, yes, please.” It was a girl’s voice now. “Lessens the chance that I’m the one stuck in paradise with you, Sam.”

“I beg your pardon—”

“They don’t call you Snake-Tongued Sam for nothing.”

All the kids except the one being teased laughed. London grimaced, worried for his feelings until he joined in. “All of you can sod off. Isn’t that the Brit lingo, my new little friend England?”

“Her name is London, actually, and it’s where she’s been living,” Colton said.

“That’s very nice,” Sam replied. “Why don’t you come in? Do they play Seven Minutes in Heaven in London, London?”

Her fingers curled around the doorjamb and her stomach twisted again. It sounded like a game and she didn’t know the rules. “Um...no.”

“That’s okay, I’ll explain it to you.” She could vaguely make out his arm lifting and she heard a dull slap as his palm hit the carpet beside him. “Come sit by Sammy.”

Another step toward her own life. She relaxed her fingers.

But as soon as she moved inside, a hand caught her wrist. “Right here,” Colton said. “Next to me.”

Then he introduced the other teens in the boathouse. It was dark enough that she wouldn’t recognize them by day, but the girls were Janice, Marie and Bess. A third boy was John. She sketched a wave she realized they probably couldn’t see. “Hi.”

Sam slapped his hands together. “So...Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

Colton spoke up. “We could do something else—”

“And leave our favorite Londoner, London, still ignorant of our American game?”

“So you know, I’m an American, too,” London said. She hated being different. “What are the rules?”

“We spin the bottle.” It was the girl who had spoken before, the one who London thought was named Janice. “When it stops, whoever it points to is party A. Party B comes with the second spin. Then the designated couple goes out for ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’ under one of the big trees.”

“What happens during the seven minutes is negotiated by the pair,” Sam added.

“Negotiated?” London asked.

“Janice and Bess, for example, might choose to spend their seven minutes locked in an embrace I’d pay money to watch—” one of the girls threw something in Sam’s direction and he ducked “—or they could decide to discuss the AP Lit final or possibly how impossibly irresistible I am.”

London let out a silent breath. Talking with another girl. That didn’t sound too terrible, did it?

“But it’s common courtesy, if it’s a boy-girl combo,” Sam continued, “to exchange some wet sloppies and anything it leads to after that.”

Wet sloppies?
London pulled her sweatshirt closer around her.

“This is stupid,” Colton declared. “We played this in junior high.”

Did he think she wasn’t mature enough for a kids’ game? London straightened, unwilling to be the reason they halted their planned activity. “Sounds like fun to me.”

One of the girls spoke next. “Okay, my turn to spin.”

Though London’s heart beat like crazy through the two-step process, the revolving soda bottle didn’t point to her either time. When John and Bess left the boathouse to hoots and innuendo, they walked out with all the cool nonchalance London always wanted for herself.

Though the first thing she realized was that seven minutes could be an eternity. Sixty seconds or so in, Colton half turned to her and addressed her in a low voice. “Did you get into any trouble after the boat incident?”

She hitched a shoulder. “Not so much. My dad took me out to these crummy cabins and had me help him work on them.”

“The old Walker ski resort.”

“You know it?” She glanced over, but it was impossible to read his face in the dark.

“John and I saw you there.”

She blinked. “When? Why?”

“We have another hangout. One of those cabins in the woods. It’s a wreck, but we go there sometimes by mountain bike or trail bike to study or chill. I caught a glimpse of you when we were leaving.”

“Oh.” She tried thinking of something to keep the conversation going. “Well—”

“You should go home, London,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

Her face burned. “You don’t like that I’m here.”

“I’d rather see you at the library,” he muttered.

The library? So now she was not only a freak but a nerd? “Wha—”

“I take my sister there on Saturday afternoons. Standing promise.”

She stilled. Was he proposing something that was sort of like...like...a date?

Before she could ask him, the first seven-minutes couple breezed back in. Whether they’d kissed or discussed upcoming exams, London had no idea. Preoccupied with trying to figure out the truth of Colton’s Saturday afternoon remark, she hardly paid attention until Sam said, “I got London!”

She jerked in his direction. “Me?”

“The bottle’s looking right at you,” he said.

Glancing down, she saw that its glass neck was pointing at her.

“I’m setting the timer on my cell,” Sam said, his tone cheerful. He stood and in one stride was to London. He bent down and circled his hand around her upper arm, and then she was standing because she didn’t know what else to do.

She couldn’t balk now, right? Unless she wanted to look like an uncool, weirdo baby who could never fit in. The other girls would snicker and Colton would instantly be aware she was nowhere near seventeen.

Plus, there was still the negotiating, right?

It’s common courtesy, if it’s a boy-girl combo, to exchange some wet sloppies and anything it leads to after that.

London tried to imagine a wet sloppy with Sam, a complete stranger to her. Maybe she could tell him she’d never been kissed—

She couldn’t tell him she’d never been kissed!

One glance in Colton’s direction only gave away his stiff posture, but she couldn’t see his expression and he didn’t say anything as she and his friend exited the boathouse. The air was cool against her hot face as they exited the boathouse and she hunched in her sweatshirt, wishing for her jeans and her black hair and the protection of thick mascara and eyeliner. Nobody could get close to her when she wore them. She was safe from everyone and everything.

“Let’s walk up the beach a little ways,” Sam said, with a vague gesture in the direction of her house. “I know this private spot...”

“Sure.” The farther they went, the more of the seven minutes would be eaten up.

Too soon, however, he took hold of her elbow and tugged her toward a stand of evergreens. Her mouth went dry as they stepped beneath the sweep of one tree’s branches. It was even darker now and she pressed her shoulder blades and the palms of her hands against its rough bark.

“So, what’s your pleasure, London?” Sam asked.

He sounded friendly enough, she supposed. Except that didn’t stop the whine in her ears and the nausea in her midsection, and the way her ribs were tightening on her heart.

His hand reached out. She flinched, even though it didn’t quite touch her, and crowded closer to the trunk of the tree. Panic was overtaking her, which was silly, because she could just tell him no. She could push the branches out of the way and return to the boathouse without being gone the full seven minutes.

Return there humiliated.

Then the sound of her name caused her to start. “London!” she heard in the distance. “London!”

“I—”

It came again, louder, loud enough to goose her into action.
“London!”

“I have to go,” she told Sam. “I really have to go.”

Then she rushed through the branches, her arms in front of her like a heroine in a scary teen movie, and ran in the direction of the voice. His voice.

Her father’s.

“London!” a different voice called. Closer.

Still moving, she glanced over her shoulder. Colton was just an inky outline on the beach. In the darkness, she couldn’t be much more than a shadow herself. “Are you all right? I was coming for you.”

Gratitude spilled through her. He’d been worried! But then her dad called her name again and she needed, for whatever crazy reason, to be near him right now.

“My dad,” she told Colton by way of explanation, and then she continued running in the direction of home.

Jace must have heard her thudding footsteps, because suddenly she could make him out hurrying in her direction. London tried to slow her momentum, but her feet couldn’t find purchase on the combination of sand, dirt and pine needles, and she fell into her father’s arms.

They closed around her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She heard his voice rumble through his chest. An old memory resurfaced, at least she thought it was an old memory. Jace holding her, talking, and her listening to the sound instead of the words.

“London?”

She swallowed. “I...I spooked myself.” It was true.

“Well.” He patted her back. It might have been a little awkward, but she didn’t mind. “You’re safe,” he said.

Yes. Whether that made her a weirdo baby or not, his arms made her feel just that way...

And she had to admit to herself that at this moment they were the only ones she wanted around her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
HOUGH
S
HAY
CONTINUED
to enjoy the conversation with her sisters out on the deck—it was centered around plans for Poppy and Ryan’s upcoming marriage—she kept one eye out for Jace and London. The girl had disappeared more than half an hour before, saying she was going to walk down to the dock, but when she hadn’t returned and couldn’t be spotted in the vicinity, Shay had whispered her concern to Jace.

He’d shot to his feet, murmured an excuse and absented himself from the party.

“What do you think, Shay?”

“Hmm?” She glanced around, saw Poppy had her eyebrows halfway to her hairline. “Did you ask me something?”

“I was begging for your help with wedding stuff. Since you won’t be tutoring London all summer—”

“How do you know that?
She
doesn’t know that.” Shay whipped her head around, relaxed when she saw her brother, Ryan and Mason occupied with another card game. The little boy hadn’t overheard.

“Jace told Ryan. I haven’t said anything to London about it.”

“Please don’t,” Shay said. “Jace is trying to find the ‘right time.’” She put finger quotes around the word. “I keep hoping he’ll change his mind.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ve got plenty to keep you busy.”

Shay opened her mouth, intending to tell her sisters about another plan she’d been toying with, one that would make her unable to do much hands-on wedding work. But she hesitated. They wouldn’t like it, so it might be better to present them with a fait accompli, if that’s what she finally decided to do.

“Uh-oh.” Mac narrowed her eyes and pointed. “That’s Guilty Face. I’d know Guilty Face anywhere. What are you hiding?”

“I don’t have Guilty Face,” Shay said, struggling not to squirm. “You’re...” Her attention snagged on the pair climbing the steps to the deck. London continued on inside the house, ruffling Mason’s hair along the way. The little boy followed.

Jace, on the other hand, returned to where he’d left his bottle of beer and finished it in one long swallow. Shay rose and crossed over to him.

He looked perplexed. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I think she might have hugged me.”

Shay drew back.

He grimaced at her reaction. “Yeah. Surprised me, too.”

“What happened?”

“Saw her running on the beach, back this way. She fell against me and that’s when I think I got a hug.”

“Did she say why?”

“Maybe it’s my scintillating personality,” he said, his voice dry.

“Hey, my personality is much more scintillating than yours and I’ve never gotten a hug.”

He smiled a little. “She said she was scared by the dark and the sound of the wind in the trees.”

“I’ll go check on her,” Shay said, and hurried into the house, passing Mason on his way back out. Jace was the first one to say he was lacking in instinct when it came to the girl, so she figured he wouldn’t be insulted that she wanted to see London for herself. The teen was in her charge, after all.

London was in the kitchen, forking up another piece of cake. She glanced up when Shay strolled forward. “Good,” she said, around the bite of old-fashioned white cake with chocolate frosting that Poppy had made from scratch.

“Save some for breakfast.”

London goggled. “We get to have cake for breakfast?”

“Nope.” Shay grinned. “Most important meal of the day, and all that. But after lunch, I’ll be fighting you for what’s left.”

“I can work with that,” the teen said.

Trying not to be obvious about it, she gave the girl a once-over. Her hair was a bit windblown and her color was up, but she seemed all right. Though the truth was, London was a pro at hiding her feelings.

It was why her next move surprised the heck out of Shay. The girl drew something from her pocket. “I have a gift for you.”

“Oh, London...”

She held out a small tissue-wrapped item. “Late birthday present and a thank-you.”

“For what?” Shay asked, unwrapping the paper. “Oh!”

“I saw you looking at the bracelet in that boutique this afternoon and bought it when you were in the dressing room. I thought it would remind you of the day you took me from an ugly duckling—”

“You were never ugly!”

“—to a swan.”

It was indeed a swan featured on the bracelet. The band was two thin pieces of gold wire connected at the center by a polished, carved piece of flat white stone the size of a quarter. She ran her fingertip over the “feathers” that had been etched into the surface. “It’s lovely,” she said. She’d always loved swans. There was a pond near the village where a few pairs made their home. “You know,” she murmured, “they mate for life.”

Shay looked up at the girl. “Thank you so much. I’ll treasure it. Though you shouldn’t have spent your money.”

The girl shrugged. “I’ve been stashing it away when Poppy and Ryan pay me to babysit Mason. By the way, he wants me to have a sleepover with him tonight at his house. Do you think that would be all right?”

“I suppose so. But check with your father—”

“I asked him earlier. He said it was fine. And that way Poppy and Ryan can go on a hike in the morning and I’ll get paid for watching Mace and it will be win-win for everybody.”

Still, Shay hesitated. “You’re very patient with Mason, and we all appreciate that. But you know you don’t have to hang with him like you do, right?”

The girl licked the last of the icing off her fork. Then, eyes on the plate, she set the utensil carefully across it. “I don’t mind. I think he loves me.” She glanced up. “He tells me so all the time anyway.” Her mouth moved in just a hint of a smile.

It sank like an arrow into the center of Shay’s chest.

There was so much secret pleasure revealed in that gentle curve that her heart hurt with it. The lonely teen was clearly delighted to be the object of the little boy’s affection—probably because she was thirsty for it.

No mother. A father who cared but didn’t know how to draw her close. Shay thought of Jace’s baffled expression. His “I think I got a hug.”

And a tutor... Shay drew in a sharp breath that caused more pain as realization bit deep.

A tutor who, just like Mason, seemed to have fallen for the girl herself.

It’s true
, she thought.
I love this kid. Every prickly, contradictory, sweet and sour aspect of her.

And she hadn’t the first idea what to do about it.

* * *

F
OLLOWING
THE
PARTY
, there wasn’t much cleanup to do beyond balling torn birthday paper and washing a few platters. Shay took care of those chores alone, her mind on London and how much she’d come to care for the girl.

It wasn’t like her, she thought.

With all the students that had marched through her life—the ones she’d coached for the SAT or quizzed on science terms—she’d learned early not to let herself stay awake at night worrying about their Friday mornings in Biology or their Saturdays sitting down to a college entrance exam. She liked them, of course, and wanted them to succeed, but she didn’t
care
about them.

Not liked she cared for London.

She’d miss her eye rolls, her snarky, under-breath comments, her sudden insights into classics of literature. When the girl had declared yesterday morning that
A Tale of Two Cities
was the best book
ever
, with an expression on her face that said she might have shed a tear or two over poor Sydney Carton, pride had swelled.

Hanging the dishcloth over the handle of one of the mammoth ovens, Shay blew out a breath and told herself that there was no reason to regret that pride or the warm feelings she had for the teenager. Nothing bad would come from them, right?

When London went away to school, Shay could keep up with her. Emails. Facebook messages.

Surely there was nothing ominous or tragic about letting a child a little way into your heart.

It was just...out of character. And that made her feel uneasy.

As a distraction, she let herself onto the deck. The lights out there had been extinguished and she breathed in the cool dark, the fragrance of pine and clean breezes in the air. It was the mountain scent, a heady elixir that had sustained generations of Walkers. She wondered if she’d wither without it.

Closing her eyes, she shoved that thought away. Take in the peace, she told herself, and listen to the night. In the distance, lake waves slithered against the silt, rocking the boat so the ropes holding it down creaked like crickets. Skitters and scurries betrayed the nocturnal critters going about their business in the trees surrounding the house. She was so attuned to the natural world that the soft clap of a quiet step on the deck behind her sounded like a gunshot.

She started and whirled, only to see Jace moving toward her. He’d changed from the slacks and shirt he’d worn earlier. In jeans and a T-shirt, he came to rest at the rail beside her, and stared into the darkness.

“Nice evening,” he murmured.

She’d thought so, before he’d arrived and scuttled her peaceful moment. “I should go—”

He cursed, ducked, cursed again as a handful of dark shapes flew close to their heads. “What the hell? Night vultures?”

She couldn’t help but snicker. “No.”

“Seriously.” His head tilted back to examine the sky. “What were those?”

“Bats.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m not kidding.” Glancing around, she saw a trio break from a nearby tree. “Bats,” she said, pointing to them.

Jace let out a low whistle. “And we’re without Vampira for the night.”

Smiling, she nudged him with her elbow. “No Vampira anymore.”

“You’re right. Thanks for that. She looks great.”

“She’s a great kid.”

As that comment settled between them, a previous one struck her...too late. Much too late.
We’re without Vampira for the night.

London was gone. Shay and Jace were alone.

Maybe the same thought occurred to him, too, because he suddenly stilled and that now-familiar tension began humming in the air. She slid a glance sideways, noting his gaze was fixed on the lake.

“Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?” he asked, his voice quiet.

The compliment shouldn’t have sent a warm thrill coursing through her, the slightly rough edge to his voice shouldn’t have felt like the stroke of a man’s palm down her naked back. She tried suppressing a shiver as the muscles low in her belly tightened.

“Thank you,” she said, and sounded breathless.

“Shay.” He still didn’t look at her as he let out a long breath. “This is going to be up to you.”

She didn’t need to ask what he meant by
this
. The possibility of another night together pulsed in air that was suddenly as thick as the blood coursing through her veins. Her limbs felt heavy, her body drugged by the desire that expanded with every inhale.

She glanced at him again, not sure how she felt about his latest declaration. “I made all the moves at the Deerpoint Inn.”

His head turned, and he smiled at her, forcing her to grip the rail so her weakening knees wouldn’t fail her. “I won’t fight you off this time,” he offered.

Oh, God.

Another night sounded so tempting, she thought, as the cool air raised goose bumps on her heated skin. She felt electrified, every cell zinging, every nerve on alert, her whole body primed to once again feel the touch of her secret lover.

It was only supposed to have been that once, a birthday treat. But why not? Why not a second time? Especially when she was considering a tremendous life change that would be anything but an indulgence.

Jace turned to her now, and his hand cupped her cheek, his workingman’s palm wide and slightly scratchy against her burning flesh. Just that simple caress was enough to abolish all counterarguments. Still, she wasn’t quite ready to surrender. “You said this was up to me,” she whispered. “No fair touching.”

His thumb gave her a tantalizing stroke. “I think I’ve pointed out the flaws in my character before.” But his hand moved away.

She snatched it in hers, pulled it back, nestled her face against him and closed her eyes. Breathing in, she tried slowing her heartbeat, but it clacked against her ribs, a runaway train that she couldn’t control. What she wanted, how fast she wanted him, was unseemly, she thought. Nothing like the sexual appetite of the pre-Jace Shay Walker, who strolled the straight and narrow so that people wouldn’t be reminded of her scandal-ridden beginnings.

His other hand sifted through her hair and her scalp prickled, another part of her coming alive thanks to his touch. “God, I want to do everything to you,” he said, the dark promise in his voice sending another erotic charge down her spine. She shuffled closer, her body pressing against his so that the heavy jut of his arousal surged against her belly. Between her legs she felt swollen and achy. He nudged her again and her breath hitched, her orgasm hovering only a quiver away.

“But slow,” he murmured as if reading her mind. A wicked smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “So slow you’ll despise me before I let you come.”

He was teasing, she knew, but she wanted that, too, she thought. That sounded safe.

Please. Make me despise him before this is through.

* * *

J
ACE
SLID
HIS
hands down Shay’s slender back to cup her bottom. He fit her more snugly against him, then bent his head to take her mouth. She tasted hot and sweet and as his fingers tightened on her soft flesh, he ground his mouth on hers, ravenous for her.

Which made him instantly ease up.

She was delicate, slender, and he was a big man. It was his nature to want to use his physicality, but he’d promised to go slow, and the way to do that was not to hold too tight. Not to possess, just pet.

He drew his lips away from her mouth, taking a feather’s path to the hollow behind her ear. His tongue dabbed there and then he nipped the small lobe, her shudder his reward.

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, but he ignored the urgent clasp to take another meandering route down her neck. Every instinct urged to bite, suck, mark—God, primitive stuff!—but he merely skated his lips against the tender skin, feeling it move beneath his mouth as breath stuttered in her throat.