Pull (Push #2) (8 page)

“Good.” She steps into the door and switches on the light, kicking off her shoes, dropping her work bag and purse on the floor, and walking toward the kitchen. “You want a beer?”

“No thanks.” I follow right behind her. Just before I round the corner into the kitchen myself, I hear the fridge door open. I walk in to see her ass pushed out behind her; she’s bent at the waist and reaching for something. The single bulb inside the fridge lights her face as she turns back to ask me if I’m sure I don’t want anything. She must have caught me looking at her ass because a smile creeps across her face as she stands upright and puts her beer down on the counter.

She steps to the side and closes the fridge door, looking at me with that wicked little grin of hers. My hands instinctively reach out to touch her hips. I can’t help myself. And then her lips are on mine, goading us both on and making my skin tighten. She turns my body to the side so she can lean against the kitchen wall. I press into her, kissing her neck and rubbing my hands against her chest. When I step back to take off my shirt, I see her looking at my arms. Her eyes settle on the blue heron on the front of my right shoulder. She’s smirking at it as she runs the tips of her fingers down the length of my arm, settling them on the sparrow just above my wrist.

I push my body into hers again, my right hand traveling up her thigh and under her skirt. Her body is warm and thick with energy. As she moves her hands across my bare shoulders, I kiss her neck, tasting her sweetness. I lift up her skirt and bend my fingers under the rim of her panties, dragging them down over her hips and thighs until they drop to the floor. Goddamn, this woman is amazing. My fingers travel back up between her legs, and they find her, circling over her and making her sigh. It’s the only sound I need to hear.

“Yes,” she stutters. “Go. Please.” I quicken my pace and feel her rise up onto her toes. A few minutes later she drops over the edge, curling her pelvis hard against my hand, pressing into me.

Her breath is heavy, and she wriggles against me again and asks me for more. I remove my hand, grip her waist, and set her up on the counter, pulling her forward so her ass is just barely on the edge. I grasp her neck and bend her forward to kiss her hard, spreading her mouth with my tongue, spreading her legs with my hips. Her hands are holding the edge of the counter, keeping her steady. She wants me inside her. She’s desperate for it, and so am I. But I’m not going to do it. Not yet.

“Do that again,” I whisper beside her ear. “I want to see you this time.”

Her eyes open and she looks at me. My fingers are inciting her again, spurring her on. She’s wrapped around them. Sending her higher is the biggest fucking turn-on in the world. She lets go of the counter and grabs my arm, the arm whose fingers are inside her. The one with the heron and the sparrow and a hundred other colorful birds. She holds them, steering me, pressing me into her. She’s still looking at me. Her mouth is open, but she’s holding her breath. She’s pulling my arm into her hard, and I have to use my other hand to hold her onto the counter. A moment later, I watch the wave rush over her again and drag her down. My own mouth open, and my breath rapid. Just like hers.

She’s still on the counter, panting and pulsating with electricity. She leans forward, hooks her fingers into the waistband of my jeans and pulls me to her. As we kiss, she undoes my button and zipper and pushes my jeans to the floor.

I hold her legs by my hips as she guides me inside her. This is what I want. To fuck her. To remind her that she is mine and I am hers. She twists her legs around my waist and leans back on the counter, holding onto the edge as I push deeper into her. My hands move to her hips, and I pull her forcefully onto me over and over. Her entire body is bouncing. Singing.

I look down at her and study the way she moves. The way her hips swivel into me. The way her arms grasp the counter. The way her neck tilts back. It makes me feel powerful. I want to remember every second. Just in case.

I lift my eyes to hers, and we watch each other. She’s right there; I can feel it. Emma closes her eyes, and her body flexes and stiffens. I pound into her, holding her hips and exhaling a stuttered breath. I fucking love being inside her. I fucking love this. I fucking love her.

I lean over her, turn her head to the side, and tell her so.

                            -------------------------------------------------------------------

We sleep until nearly noon on Saturday, and while she showers, I make us breakfast. I’m not much of a cook, so the best I can manage is a couple of scrambled eggs with toast and a cup of coffee. Still, she seems grateful for it and eats every bite. I can’t help but wonder if it’s out of courtesy or because it actually doesn’t taste like crap.

After we clean up, I tell Emma I’ll take a quick shower and then we can watch a movie or take a walk or do whatever she wants. On my way back to the bathroom she grabs my arm and gives me a peck on the cheek.

“Can I ask you something?” she says with a touch of trepidation in her voice.

“Sure. Anything.”

“When did you know you loved me?”

I can’t help but smile at her question. I take a deep breath and tell her the truth.

“I’ve loved you since the night you opened that package from Michael, the one with your father’s cut-up dog tags. When you told me all the things he’d done to you, it made me realize how much I truly want to protect you. That’s when I knew I loved you. That’s when I knew you were different.”

“Huh.” She shrugs. “That’s funny. Because that happens to be the very same night I agreed to be protected.”

“Well, how ’bout that?” I tease, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. “Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

“Sure is.”

I feel serious again, and after a pause, I say exactly what’s on my mind. “None of this is going to be easy, you know.”

“Nothing good ever is.” She reaches up onto her toes and kisses me lightly on the lips. She looks up at me with a soft, sweet smile, and I know she can see the worry in my eyes. How could she not? “Now go take your shower.”

As I walk back to the bathroom, the picture of the grown-up me in my head becomes a little bit brighter.

Chapter 14

Matt—Present Day

It’s Saturday afternoon, and there are surprisingly few people here. It’s just me and four other guys. I’m standing in the third aisle from the left, looking at issue #4 of
Uncanny Avengers.
It’s the one after Xavier’s funeral. The one where the X-Men battle Red Skull. It’s not the greatest issue, for sure, but the epilogue was an amazing surprise.

I flip through the pages, and Rogue is there, in all her swelteringly sexy, mutant glory. It’s the green suit, with the belt slung down over one hip, that gets me every time. Well, that and the white streaks in her hair. Not to mention her powers. How cool would it be to be able to absorb other people’s memories with just a touch? To take on their personalities and physical abilities? And having Carol Danvers take over when your own mind is rendered useless would be pretty excellent, too. If I were a comic-book chick, I’d definitely want to be her.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and faint guitar music rings through the denim. I look up at the other customers and pull the phone out of my jeans, making my way toward the exit as I look at the screen.

It’s Emma.

“Hey, Emma,” I say into the phone, just as the door closes behind me.

“Hi, Matt. Sorry to bother you on a Saturday.”

“No problem. What’s up?”

“I only have a minute to talk ’cause David’s in the shower, but I wanted to say thank you and I couldn’t really do it at the office. What you did for us, for
me,
was pretty incredible, and I want you to know that I appreciate it.” Her voice is genuine and sincere, but I can’t help but feel awkward talking to her about this. Especially when David asked me not to.

“I had no idea about all the stuff you were dealing with, but it sounds like everything’s okay now, right?”

“As okay as it can be when it comes to my family.”

She’s the one who brought it up. And I’m curious as hell.

“Your brother sounds like an interesting guy.”

“My brother’s an asshole. He’s been tormenting me for a long time; ever since my stepfather came into our lives, really. They both always got some kind of rise out of being cruel, and now that my stepfather is gone, apparently Ricky decided to step up his game. If David hadn’t done what he did, Ricky would’ve just kept coming back for more. He’s dangerous and unpredictable, to say the least.” Emma doesn’t seem weak or threatened by much in her life, but the tone in her voice tells me she means every word. It’s clear she’s only sharing the essentials, and that’s okay. I’m not sure I need to hear any more.

“It sounds like David did the best he could to protect you. I hope it’s over.”

“Me too. And thanks again. For everything.”

“You bet. I guess I’ll see you on Monday morning, then.”

“Yep. Have a good weekend.”

“You, too.”

We hang up, and I stare at the phone for a second or two, thinking about the fucked-up life Emma must have had. How is she not more dysfunctional? Even though neither one of them shared many details, I can guess what kind of stuff she must have had to deal with from her stepfather and brothers. All of it makes me feel like my strict-as-sin mother and father weren’t so bad after all. It makes me feel lucky. But it also makes me feel sad for Emma. I pity her for having to spend most of her life battling her own family. I’m proud of my friend for saving her from all that. For giving her a chance at a normal life by risking everything he has, including his own life. And I’m proud of myself for having some small part of it all.

David’s no saint, but he’s a good guy, and he and Emma deserve to be happy.

I put my phone in my pocket and open the door to go back into Crazy Dog Comics. I’ve got a pull list as long as my arm. I need to check if they have
Invincible
#17.

Chapter 15

After Kelsey

I’m crouched down on Clawsen’s Bridge, looking at the ripples in the water. Kelsey’s ripples. I feel the weight of God’s judgment lift off of me, as if someone has asked Him to forgive me for doing this horrible thing. As if Kelsey prayed for me, and God heard her. As if—as she was falling—she told Him that I deserve to be forgiven. That He should exonerate me because of my life. Because this was not how things were supposed to be. Because
He
made my life harder than anyone deserves. I feel, for once, like He might have actually listened.

I move my right hand over to my pocket. As I stand, I feel the Leatherman I have inside it. I know I could jump into the water, swim down to her, and cut the ropes binding her hands and feet. I know that I could save her. If I actually wanted to. But I don’t. Not anymore.

My original intent was not to let her die. When I called her and asked her to meet me here, when I bought the rope and the sandbags at Mason’s Hardware, and when I slid the Leatherman into my pocket, I
was
going to save her. I
was
going to do exactly what I told her I would. I
was
going to jump in and cut her free. I really was. I was going to let her show me how much she loves me, then I was going to rescue her. I swear it. The whole thing was meant to make everything right. It was going to make me feel better about Sarah. It was going to fix what I did to her. And it was going to compensate the world for my inability to save my own mother.

But intent does not always equal fruition.

Objectives change. Intentions morph. Plans alter. And never so much as when pleasure is involved. Deep, twisted, heart-pumping pleasure. And the surge of pleasure that comes from having complete control over another human being is the purest, most exhilarating kind of happiness I have ever experienced. It was even more intense than the day I pushed Sarah. A thousand times more intense. Hell, a million times. It was like everything came rushing at me. Desire. Adrenaline. Purpose. Power. It was like some kind of blissful earthquake littered my brain and filled my soul with the most profound and primitive kind of satisfaction. And it changed everything. Pleasure changed everything.

I understand now how pleasure can make a human being do things they never thought they would. How it can take over your brain and make you forget about everything that really matters. How it can shut your eyes and your ears to the rest of the world and make you oblivious to everything but yourself. Pleasure can make you forget about potential punishments and ramifications and all the aftershocks associated with doing something that might be so
wrong
it makes your head spin. Pleasure is the one emotion that crushes all the rest. And this kind, the kind that comes from control, has to be the best pleasure there is. I know it now. And I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to forget.

But, despite the jolt of pleasure still vibrating through my body, I’m going to have to come back down to Earth in a hurry. I’m going to have to think quick because I have to make Kelsey disappear. I walk away from the bridge knowing what I need to do. I have to go to Elizabeth, my dad’s secretary. I told her three days ago that Kelsey was pregnant. Which, of course, she wasn’t. You have to have sex with someone before that can happen and Lord knows Kelsey wasn’t having sex, not with me or anyone else for that matter. I mean, Christ, what nineteen-year-old is with the same partner for an entire year and doesn’t do anything more than kiss?

I never told Kelsey I loved her because I didn’t. In fact, I did nothing but resent her for the past six months. I resented her holier-than-thou attitude, her self-serving chastity, her self-righteous and publically declared desire to rescue-the-bad-boy-from-all-his-demons, and the fact that she
always
put her family above me. If I ever dumped her, I’d never hear the end of it from my father. He’d tell me what a big fucking mistake I’d made, he’d call me a jackass and tell me what a huge loser I am. He’d berate me for giving up the only good thing I’d ever have. And then he’d tell me he always knew it wouldn’t last. He’d tell me he always knew she was too good for me. So I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t break up with her.

But there was no way she was going to break up with me, either. She wanted to save me, after all, and breaking up with me would be against “God’s work.” She was the only person who knew how damaged I am. She knew about my father and his alcoholism. She knew about my mother’s death. She once told me she’d never leave me because she knew her love could save me from all that negativity. What a bunch of sanctimonious bullshit.

But I figured if I ruined her reputation, if I made this whole fucking town see her differently, she’d call it quits and break up with me. And if she didn’t do it by choice, her parents would make her do it. And so, I came up with the pregnancy rumor. I knew what a gossip Elizabeth is, and I knew that if I told her first, and if I poured it on thick, half the town would know about Kelsey’s pretend pregnancy a week later.

And so, that’s it. That’s how I’m going to make Kelsey disappear. The only person who knew she wasn’t really pregnant is at the bottom of the river.

I walk to Elizabeth’s front door with a smirk on my face, feeling the ethereal after-effects of Kelsey’s fall. Contentment. Satisfaction. Control.

Pleasure.

Plus there’s the fact that God already forgives me.