Summer's Road (15 page)

“I’m sorry about that, because Matt matters to me.”

The breath ripped from my lungs, cutting like razors. I gazed heavenward, jaw clamped. Was I too late? A hollow, vacant misery, worse than anything I’d ever imagined, filled my soul. Pummeled my brain. Seized my heart. Moments passed. Several, elongated moments. I tried to swallow and couldn’t.

“Did you—“ I ground my teeth “—make love to him?” I summoned the courage to look at her and took a step closer, searching her gaze, seeking any kind of hope. I swore, hand to God, if she said yes, I didn’t know what I’d do.

“No.” One word, spoken on a breathy whisper.

The stalled oxygen left my lungs in a whoosh. “Why?”

She shook her head, a plea in her eyes. Any other time the helplessness in those blue depths would have stopped me cold, have me caving to comfort her and erase any horrible thing she’d encountered. But this...this moment was too important.

I crossed the room. Grabbed her by the arms. Pulled her to me. “Why?”

Her chin tilted until she met my gaze. And there. There was what I’d been waiting to see for too damn long. “He didn’t make me feel like this. Like you do.”

I shook, and no amount of effort would get it to cease. My arms felt like lead weights. “And that’s why the others don’t matter to me. They weren’t you.”

Her cheeks were dry, but her eyes welled, the tears expertly willed back by pure skill only she could manage. Huge, twilight blue eyes widened when I slid my hands up her arms, her shoulders, to cup her face. She expelled a shaky breath, gaze darting to my mouth and back again. Closer than a whisper away, I wouldn’t need to go far to seal the gap. And she wasn’t moving, backing away, or screaming like a banshee in the other direction. It was too much to hope for.

My gaze dropped to her mouth. That beautiful, pink, pouting mouth. It was my undoing.

“Summer?”

“Yeah?”

Screw doubt. “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. It was the furthest conceivable thing from nothing. When I closed the space between us, seared my mouth to hers, I nearly doubled over and whimpered.

CHAPTER NINE

Ten Years Ago—Age Eighteen

L
ess than a month into the first semester of college and it was possible I might have to drop out. I watched the leaves just beginning to change from my bedroom window. A beautiful death in yellow and orange and red. Some were starting to fall already, as if a prelude to the news we’d received today.

He had cancer. My dear, sweet Daddy. Daddy who had never done anything wrong in his entire life except smoke those damn cigarettes. He’d quit, for me, two years ago, but it hadn’t been soon enough. The habit had caught up with him. The coughing and shortness of breath wasn’t just a cold. It was cancer. The doctors claimed they could try aggressive treatments and removing the mass on his lung, but they gave us no false hope or promises. It was looking grim. Stage 4 was bad.

After we’d gotten home from the doctor’s office, still in a measurable amount of shock, Daddy had sat me down at the kitchen table. “All of the papers for the house are in the safe upstairs. It’s paid off, but there’s a tax bill. I have life insurance—”

I shook my head violently. “No, Daddy. You heard the doctors. They can try treatment.” I was
not
going to listen to him get his things in order and prepare to die. I...I couldn’t do it. Tears clogged my throat and I pressed my lips together to hold in a sob. The pressure in my chest was unbearable.

Patting my hand, he swallowed. “They said no guarantees, darling.” I shook my head again, but his grip was as firm as his voice. “I’m going to fight, but we need to discuss matters. I’m transferring the bills into your name. I’ll pay them, but afterwards, the life insurance should get you through for a long while. There’s a will, too, in the safe. You’ll be fine.”

I would not. I would not be fine without him. Me and him against the world. Without him it would all be too much. He talked like he was already dead.

Be strong. He needs you now, just like all those years you needed him and he was there.

Focusing on the here and now, I turned from my bedroom window to my friends, who’d arrived after Daddy had gone to bed. They had come without question, a pillar of support. They hadn’t said much after I’d dropped the news. Silence hung heavier than a shroud.

Poor Ian stared at the wall, shock and grief twisting his handsome face. A haze of numb was threatening to consume his dark eyes. Dee cried openly in a chair, her usual humor absent, Rick holding her hand. Rick was trying to crawl inside my head, read my mind, if his worried expression was any indication. He always worried about me, like a good friend. He knew things about me that weren’t there to the naked eye, emotions under the surface. Through the years, I’d tried to hide my weaknesses so he could rest easy, but I couldn’t today. I didn’t have the energy. Once Ian snapped out of it, he wouldn’t leave my side, and his concern for me would be all-consuming. That’s just the kind of guy he was. Selfless. Caring. Passionate.

I had the best friends. So close, for so many years. We had all agreed to go to UNC together so we wouldn’t be apart. It seemed silly now—college, dreams, living.

Tears burned my eyes, and I wanted to give up. I just...I needed...Ian.

I crossed the room to my bed and curled up against Ian’s side. His warm body and scent cocooned me in safety. He’d hold me up, be strong for me until I remembered how. The reassurance and security with him was immeasurable, brought more tears to my eyes. I had been doing that a lot lately, crawling in bed with him for comfort. He didn’t seem to mind.

His strong, solid arm slid around my back and held me to him. He kissed my temple, letting his lips linger. “You got this, Summer. And I got you.”

Present—Ian

S
ummer’s hands drove into my hair and seized the strands the moment my mouth came down on hers. Trying to command the kiss, her lips parted for me, ravishing my mouth, scalding me inside out. I didn’t answer the fierce need at first, too afraid to move, more afraid not to. With a guttural groan, I gave her my all, feeding every bit of emotion into the kiss.

I about died where I stood. Everything else faded away—the sound of the ocean tide drifting in from the partially open window, the lingering scent of sea salt, the low lamplight through the shadows. It all floated into oblivion. I had Summer in my arms and nothing else mattered.

Her lilac scent wove around me, through me, as my heartbeat thundered in my ears. My objective to take it slow, to satisfy her every wish, every whim, flew out the window and into the night. Gone forever, like my heart had been when I’d stopped denying the need for her. Every intention I had envisioned to make this memorable and savor her, so she couldn’t overlook or disregard me again, was lost to the necessity of her skin against mine. Frantic, I needed her closer and feared it would never be close enough.

I fisted my hands in the back of her shirt, held on for dear life. She grabbed the material of mine and molded herself to me, working to slide it up my chest and over my head. Sweet Christ. I drew away long enough to return the favor and came right back to her mouth, tossing the tee aside. She uttered a cry of surprise that echoed through my head. She swayed against me, her breath expelling in ragged pants from her mouth into mine. Need turned our kiss from exploration to desperation.

I skimmed my hands over her ribs, fingertips brushing the soft under swell of her breasts. So damn soft. How stupid I’d been to think I knew her body, knew what it would be like to touch her. No fantasy could have measured up to this. To her. Greedy, I wanted it all. I fumbled to remove my jeans, the split-second of separation from her unbearable. Kicking my pants and briefs aside, I brought her right back, flush against me.

Part of me warned we should slow down. We’d barely transgressed from the friendship we’d always known. Summer had so much going on in her head right now, and the last thing I wanted was to later regret ruining this perfect moment. But, selfishly, I needed her like I needed nothing else. We’d passed turning back the second she’d walked through the door tonight.

A moan tore from her throat. A feral, untamed sound that vibrated my chest. Her deft, warm fingers traced the ridges in my abs, slid up my chest, and had my eyes rolling into the back of my skull. Her mouth ate at mine, tongues clashing, teeth nipping.

Liquid fire flowed through my veins. My hands were everywhere at once, needing to feel every inch of her. Across the delicate curve of her spine, urging her closer. On her ass, kneading. In her hair, tangled. Over her breasts, cupping and molding. Her short, blunt fingernails dug into my lower back, staking claim. Marking me. One of her very long legs slid up mine, higher and higher, until it wrapped around my waist, cradling my shaft against the damp heat of her. Her panties were drenched as she ground against me.

Stars, fireworks...something exploded behind my lids.

“Holy hell.” I could stand it no more. My legs couldn’t hold me up much longer.

I bent, hauled her other leg over my hip so she straddled me, and backed us to the bed. Falling with her, I settled my weight over her and kissed her like a man dying. I very well might have been. I cupped the small, perfect firmness of her breasts in my hands, growling when her nipples pebbled in my palms.

She explored my body with her hands, her lips a brand as she kissed wherever she could reach. My jaw, my neck, my shoulders. Though her movements were hesitant, almost unsure, my hair stood erect at her touch, my body taut with need. Lower, her fingers moved, and my stomach concaved as she descended. Down, down to...

“Christ, sweetheart.”

She grinned against my lips, the little minx, her fingers tightening around my shaft. When her thumb circled the crown, slid over my slit—Heaven, that—I grabbed her wrists and pinned her hands on the bed by her head.

“Behave.”

“No,” she breathed.

Always with the arguments. I ran my tongue over her collarbone and traced a path to one breast, drawing the peak of her nipple into my mouth. She hissed through her teeth and it was my turn to grin. I did the same with her other breast, watching as her cheeks flushed and her lips parted. So beautiful. She arched toward me, head rolled back to expose her long neck. She wiggled her arms to be set free and I let go. There were so many other places to explore.

I kissed my way over her flat belly to the damp curls between her legs. Hands on her thighs, I spread them and stopped just to look at her. The breath caught in my airway. “So damn beautiful.” I flicked my gaze up to hers, catching the nervous hint in her eyes. She bit her lip, a wrinkle between her brows, and I had to wonder why she was embarrassed. Had none of her other partners been thorough? “
Beautiful
,” I reiterated.

And I set about showing her just how much I believed it. Licking a path from her opening to her clit, I reveled in her breathy gasp, in the way her hips lifted, silently seeking more. I loved how receptive she was, even though she was obviously nervous. She tasted sweet, like honey and musk. I could spend an eternity right here, making her moan, and I’d never complain. Sliding one finger into her heat, I marveled at her tightness. She hadn’t had many lovers, but I hadn’t expected her to be this tight. I curled my finger inside her and pressed my tongue flat over her swollen bundle of nerves. A sharp cry ripped from her throat as she bucked under me, fingers clutching the sheet at her hips.

My quiet, reserved best friend—the woman who could bank her feelings as if she had none—was ready to explode. Because of me. Pride swelled inside my chest and something tender grew around it.

Gently, I added a second finger and increased the pressure on her clit. She came undone in seconds. Her walls gripped my fingers, giving me an idea of just how damn good she’ll feel around my shaft when I was buried inside her. She bowed off the bed, a strangled moan on her lips, and trembled through her climax. I eased her down slowly, in complete awe and captivated by her response. Beautiful didn’t begin to cover it.

I left the bed long enough to grab a condom from my wallet and roll it down my throbbing length. I returned to her before her eyes could clear of the sleepy, wanton haze. Nestled between her thighs, I struggled to focus as her legs wrapped around my hips, already welcoming me.

Our heartbeats pounded in a frantic rhythm, and I was unable to distinguish hers from mine. The emotion in the knowledge she was here with me was enough to drown me.

I fought to ignore to the part of myself that said I might lose her, the part that kept me from just this for all these years. I kissed her thoroughly, telling her the story of us from my side. How long I’d wanted her. How beautiful, inside and out, I thought she was. That I’d give up everything I had to keep her with me always. I’d had the sinking suspicion throughout our friendship that if I ever had the chance to be with her this way, it would end me. Ruin me, break me, and build me right back again in a different image. Her image. That talented and artistic flair she used to view the world through a unique set of eyes, finding only the potential. I’d been right, too, because I was utterly, devastatingly hers to mold as she wished.

“Summer.” I looked down at her, at her soft, caramel hair spread over the pillow. Her long pale lashes shadowed her cheeks and her lips were swollen from my kiss. Her fair skin was flushed pink and warm. “Summer, look at me.” Her eyes, clouded with passion, with desire, slowly focused on me. I don’t know why, but I suddenly needed the reassurance she knew it was me with her, that she saw
me
.

As if she understood my distress, she smiled—a sweet, endearing curve of her lips that came from so deep it resonated in her eyes. She cupped my jaw, brushing her thumb over my lower lip. “I’m here, Ian. Right here.” She was an entirely different person like this. Open, at ease, without the dark she usually carried around.