Storm Watch(19)

She had on a pink bra with a little red heart nestled between her breasts. A pink bra with a little heart that stole his. Ah, man. “Lizzy.”

She bent her head, and the tip of her nose grazed his jaw. She inhaled deeply, as if she loved the scent of him, as if she couldn’t get enough, and his hands tightened on her. Everything tightened.

“You smell good,” she whispered so softly he could barely hear her. “How is it you smell so good?”

“I don’t know, but we—” Another arch of those hips, and God. He turned his face into her, burying it in her hair, closing his eyes, his hands running up and down her slim spine. Then they slid lower, feeling the curve of her ass through the rain gear and the sweats, and he forgot that they weren’t doing this—instead he wished like hell that they were back at his place, in his bed.

She pressed her lips to his throat, dragged them slowly upward, heading toward his ear, and his eyes actually rolled in the back of his head. “Okay, that’s—”

She nibbled on his earlobe and he sucked in a hard breath. Going to turn me on and upside down and inside out. He dropped his head to her shoulder and gulped for air like a man going under, and while he was at it, he gave in to the temptation and squeezed her sweet ass. “I can’t remember what I was going to say. Hell, I can hardly remember my name.”

She laughed. “I have a confession.”

Oh, Christ, no. Not a confession.

“In high school…” She cleared her husky throat. “You didn’t know this, but I had a big-time crush on you.”

He lifted his head and met her gaze, and realized she expected a response. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” she repeated. “You knew?”

“A little.”

“Oh.” Her smile froze, faltered. Her hips stopped their deliciously slow assault on his senses.

“Lizzy—”

She climbed over him to get back to her seat. “We should go.”

“Did you want me to lie?”

“No.” She closed her eyes. “No. Look, it was a long time ago. I had a helpless, hopeless crush on you and hid it by being rude.”

“You were never rude.”

“No? And apparently I didn’t hide it, either.” She put her hood back up, hiding. “Come on. Before it gets worse.”

He was pretty sure she didn’t mean the storm. “It was a weird time,” he said.

“Really, Jason? Were you socially awkward and gawky and geeky? Oh, wait, that was me. You were beautiful and perfect and popular.”

“And you were smart, so damn smart. No, dammit, listen.” He took her shoulders so she’d look into his eyes. “You were different—”

She snorted her opinion of that and pushed away his hands. “Different. You mean, I had a good personality.”

“You did.” He laughed when she growled at him. “And I mean you were good different. Amazing different.”

“Oh, come on. You only talked to me because I did your work for you.”

“Do you have any idea how cool I thought that was, that you were willing to help me and not want anything from me at all? You didn’t care what anyone else thought. You didn’t add up your worth by who you were sleeping with—”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone. Not in high school, which I suppose you also knew.”

Not completely stupid, he kept his mouth shut.

“Oh, my God. You said I kissed fine!”

“Actually, I said you kissed like heaven.” He still remembered that day; the hot bleachers, the oak tree…the sun shining down on her hair, her eyes wide on his as he’d lowered his mouth to hers. He remembered thinking, Damn Paul was an idiot, don’t you be, don’t screw it up for her. And then their lips had touched and he’d been unable to think at all.

After a glorious few tongue-tangling moments under that hot sun, she’d stepped back, licked her lips and politely thanked him.

Then asked him to show her the rest.

“What?” he’d asked stupidly.

“The rest,” she’d repeated in a low whisper. “Show me the rest, more of…this.”

More? When it’d already been so much deeper than anything he’d experienced? He wasn’t equipped for it, and for the first time in his life, he’d walked away from a girl. Just run off. So dumb, and so unintentionally cruel. He’d hated himself for not trying to explain it to her, for letting her think he didn’t want her. Later he’d tried, but she’d refused to talk about it, telling him that if he brought it up again, she’d kung fu him in the family jewels. He’d believed her. “I can’t tell you how many times I wished I hadn’t walked away that day—”