The Darkest Part(10)

I know about it because I found her there after she ran away when she was seven. Her parents had a big fight, and she told me and Tyler that she was going to live at Nickelodeon. I followed her, scared that she’d get lost in the plantation, staying a safe distance behind so she wouldn’t see me.

She did, though. And we ate cookies and drew together under the tree for hours until night came, and then I convinced her to go back home, telling her that Nickelodeon had monsters. Probably mean, but hey, I was ten. I was kind of a little shit back then.

I bang my head against the steering wheel, keep it there, and close my eyes. I should leave. Back out and turn around right now. Sam will be hurt, but she’s fourteen. She’ll recover. She’ll curse me and call me out for the ass that I am . . . but it’s the right thing to do.

I’m still a shit, though. A selfish one. I see her vivid eyes in my mind, feel the softness of her skin as I accidently brush her arm, and I want to go to her. I want her. I want it all. All of her.

The rain pours down, the sky opening up and releasing bolder-size raindrops, like it’s trying to stop my pursuit, send a message. Jerking my keys out, I stuff them in my pocket and stare ahead.

I open the door and run.

Rain is coming down in sheets, battering me as the wind sends it sideways. I yank the back of my shirt over my head by the collar, trying to guard against falling pinecones. Wind tears at my bare stomach. I pull my shirt straight and tuck the front into my jeans to shield my skin.

There’s no way she’s out here in this. She wouldn’t be . . . not for me. But when I turn the corner of the trail, I catch sight of a white T-shirt. And then Sam, her back flush against the black bark of the tree.

Her head is lowered as she stares at the ground. My breath catches in my throat. The rain continues to beat the crap out of me, obscuring my vision, but I don’t blink as I take in her drenched body. Her white T-shirt. Fuck. I’m so fucked.

As if she can hear my thoughts, she looks up. A hesitant smile slides across her beautiful face, and like the lightning striking above, electrifying the air, my heart kick starts. I’m breathing again.

My feet race across the root-covered path, and when I reach her, I swallow hard. Rain water drips down her face, rolling over her full lips, and her black hair is slicked back. Like she just got out of the shower. I try to keep my gaze from drifting lower, but dammit. Her white shirt clings to her body, teasingly revealing the fact she’s either not wearing a bra, or she’s wearing a really thin one.

I’m instantly sporting a semi. I give myself a mental punch to the gut, clearing my thoughts. I don’t know how to start this. My mouth is dry, and if I had any words in my empty head before, they’re long gone. Maybe I misread her paint—

Her arm snakes around my neck, pulling my shirt off my head, and I realize—like a dumbass—I’m still holding it above me. Her other hand goes to my stomach, and I suck in a sharp breath at the feel of her warm skin through the material. Her body presses against me, and it’s so delicate, fragile. She’s shaking. I want to hold her tight. Feel every bit of her.

“What are we doing?” she asks, releasing a small, timid laugh.

I swallow again. “I don’t know . . . but whatever it is, I don’t want to stop.”

Heat blazes in her eyes, desire. And I try to remind myself that this is Sam. My next door neighbor, and the girl I’ve known since she was in diapers. But she’s far more mature than her years; she sees things clearer than anyone I’ve ever met—is more sultry than any woman I’ve ever seen.

Shutting down my brain, I brush a wet lock of hair from her cheek. She gasps at my touch and bites down on her lip, and it’s my undoing. Gripping her soaking shirt, I pull her to me and press my lips to hers.

It’s soft and questioning, us trying to figure out our beat. It’s nervous and unsure, but as her mouth parts to welcome me in, I dip my tongue inside the hollow of her mouth, taste the sweetness of her. When she matches me, her tongue sliding over mine, mingling, heat scorches the back of my throat. My pulse quickens as a tremor rocks me.

She shivers in my arms, whether from the cold or the kiss, I’m not sure. But all I want to do is make her shiver more. And then warm her. I bend at the knees and grasp her thighs, lifting her into my arms. Something primal is taking over—driving out any hesitation. She latches her arms around my neck, locking her legs around my waist.

I’m moving us forward or backward . . . I don’t know. But I feel the tree bark against my knuckles at some point, and I press Sam against it, her body molding to mine. Our kiss becomes crushing and hungry, and I’m suddenly desperate, scared for it to end.