Kissing Lessons Page 20

  With his other hand, he stroked her exposed back, tracing her spine, caressing each and every bump of vertebrae.

  She felt her skin turn to gooseflesh. Air shuddered out of her. He made her feel feminine, small and delicate and precious.

  Suddenly both his hands gripped her waist. She was airborne for the tiniest moment as he launched her onto the bed. She landed with a small yelp. He eased down, leaning over her, propping his elbows on either side of her head.

  She refused to think about her almost-nakedness or how she might look bouncing around on her bed. She’d get too self-conscious if she mulled over that fact.

  His face was so close. She reached for his jaw, reveling in the bristly scratch. He held himself still and she let herself explore his face, mapping out the arch of his eyebrows and the bridge of his nose. Her fingers caressed his well-carved lips.

  They moved against her fingers as he spoke. “The way you look at me . . .” His voice faded.

  “Yes?” she prodded.

  “No one has ever looked at me like that before.”

  “Oh.” She breathed the word, not sure she understood. “How am I looking at you?”

  “Like you’re stuck in the desert and I’m the last drink of water you’re ever going to get.”

  She couldn’t believe he didn’t have a dozen girls looking at him like that. He was Beau Sanders.

  He settled himself between her thighs. One of his hands slipped under her, splaying at the center of her back.

  His head lowered. She shuddered as he pressed a kiss to the top of her breast. Oh. She ran her fingers over his head, through the short silky hair.

  His mouth closed over the nipple, taking her fully into the warmth of his mouth.

  She gasped and surged against him, her eyes wide, staring blindly. She had no idea it could be like this.

  She wasn’t foolish enough to think any boy could make her feel this way. This was Beau. It wouldn’t be the same with anyone else . . . it wouldn’t be so hot or thrilling if she hadn’t known the guy forever and had feelings for him that were more substantial than a crush.

  She clawed at his shirt, pulling the fabric, wanting to feel him, his skin to her skin.

  He sat up, reached behind him, and pulled his shirt over his head. Then he was back. This time they were chest to chest. His hardness to her softness. His mouth met hers. It wasn’t sweet or gentle or easy. He kissed her deep and hard. She kissed him back.

  Her hands swept over his shoulders, gliding down his back. The flesh rippled and undulated under her hands. He pulled away and stared down at her, his blue eyes so deep and penetrating they glowed almost silver in the red haze of her bedroom. His breath crashed on the air as his gaze roamed over her. Her self-consciousness melted away and a thrill coursed through her, knowing he liked what he saw.

  “You trust me?”

  She nodded, a lump forming in her throat.

  A slow smile spread across his lips and he slid down the length of her, taking his time. His hands went to her hips, playing with the edge of her panties.

  She glanced down and grimaced at the sight of her pale gray cotton underwear. Not exactly sex goddess material. He pressed a slow, savoring kiss right below her belly button. Her nerves sparked like they were shot with electricity. His hand drifted lower and she gasped, jumping at the intimate press of his fingers, certain he felt the wild hammering of her pulse.

  She was panting now, embarrassing little whimpers she couldn’t stop.

  “Emmaline, can I touch you?” The rough catch in his voice was the sexiest thing she ever heard.

  She nodded and his hand slipped inside her panties. Sensation bombarded her as his fingers slicked through her. He made a strangled sound as he eased a finger inside.

  Oh goodness.

  She hardly ever heard of this happening. At school, it was usually about the girls doing for the boys—about blowjobs in the back seat of cars. All to satisfy some boy, and then the boys were quick to share all the intimate details of those trysts later so that the girl faced plenty of ridicule and scorn.

  The boys were never scorned. Only the girls. That never struck her as fair. The injustice of it actually made her mad when she thought about it.

  Right now this was all about her. About Beau giving her pleasure.

  Shudders racked her as his fingers stroked in and out of her. He even used the base of his palm, building a delicious pressure that unraveled her. She arched off the bed with a cry.

  He pressed his mouth close to her ear to breath her name, “Emmaline.”

  She held tightly onto his shoulders, clinging to him as an orgasm eddied over her.

  They stayed frozen, moments stretching out between them. His hands slipped out from her panties and he pulled her into a hug, holding her.

  She cuddled close to him, glad for this moment. She didn’t know if it would be like this tomorrow or ever again, so she simply held on to him.

  “Beau?” she whispered, not even sure what she was going to say.

  “Hm, Pigeon?” Everything melted inside her at the nickname. Bones, muscle, sinew. She exhaled, relaxed.

  A soft creak killed her lethargy. Tension rushed in. She knew the sound of her door opening. The hinges had needed greasing for a long time now.

  Her arms tightened around Beau, squeezing. She knew it was probably the opposite reaction she should be having. She should be shoving him off her and grabbing some clothes. She should be hiding Beau.

  She should be learning how to disappear—or better yet, how to make Beau disappear.

  Instead, she peered over Beau’s shoulder, hoping it wouldn’t be that bad.

  Except it was bad. She couldn’t breathe. Her airways constricted to the point of pain.

  It wasn’t Mom. It was Nolan . . . and he was staring right at Emmaline. At Emmaline and Beau. In bed together.

  Lesson #29

  Not every surprise is fun.

  x Nolan x

  Ever since Nolan left Hayden’s, his every step felt like it was attached to an anchor, threatening to pull him down.

  He assumed his sister was asleep. The lack of light creeping out from beneath her door pointed to that. But just in case she was watching Netflix on her laptop in the dark, as she often did, he decided to pop in and see how her night went. It couldn’t be worse than his night. Maybe she could distract him with a good story—or whatever new show she was marathoning.

  He shook his head. The night had started out great with Hayden. Even with her ultimatum. Yeah, she had warned him they would only have a physical relationship, but he hadn’t really thought that through. It sounded easy when she said they would only have a fling. Most guys would love that. Apparently, he wasn’t most guys.

  Now he understood that he could not disengage the emotional from the physical. Not when it came to her. There was something about him . . . something about her. Something he couldn’t walk away from. He wanted more from her. More than a hookup.

  Where had tonight gone all wrong? Even as he asked himself the question, he knew when it fell apart.

  It went wrong the moment her mom showed up. Then it went even more downhill when he had opened his mouth and started giving his opinion like he knew what he was talking about. Like he knew what it was like to be in her shoes and live her life.

  Nolan knew hardship. He’d lost his dad. He lived with that gaping hole inside him every day. But he never for one moment lived under a roof where he did not feel safe and loved. That was her burden, and who was he to judge how she managed it? She had made it this far without him.

  He knew she didn’t need him, but he wanted her to want him.

  At least Nolan had his family. He could always count on them.

  He eased open Emmaline’s door slowly, just in case she was asleep.

  The room was mostly dark. She had left her lava lamp burning, casting the room in a reddish light. Mom was always on her about turning it off at night so that she didn’t burn the house down.

&nbs
p; He took a step inside the room, assuming she’d fallen asleep and intending to turn off the lamp for her. They would talk tomorrow. Maybe they could hang out.

  That’s when a movement on the bed caught his eye. He stopped and frowned. The shapes were all wrong. Too many. Not just one body.

  Two bodies.

  Two people . . . but that didn’t make sense. He didn’t think she was having a sleepover. Beau had dropped her home alone. Sanjana was sleeping at Hayden’s house.

  He squinted, narrowing his eyes through the gloom, focusing on a face.

  A face that wasn’t Emmaline’s.

  Beau’s face. Staring right back at him.

  It didn’t compute. What was Beau doing here? On his sister’s bed? In his sister’s bed? With his sister?

  He was slow to process what his eyes were seeing. It was too incredible.

  Impossible.

  “What . . . the . . . ?”

  Nolan never saw it coming. Never suspected Beau would do something like this.

  His gaze drifted from Beau’s face to his sister. She looked horrified. It was that expression . . . it told him everything. One look at her face confirmed it.

  Beau was screwing around with his sister and he’d caught them in the act.

  That knowledge rolled over and over in his mind. There was no justification for it. No excuse.

  Beau stood up, shirtless . . . and the sight of that—with his sister in the background, scrambling for her clothes on her bed—ignited him.

  He charged forward. No longer the composed one. Not the cool-headed one. Not anymore. He snapped.

  Beau held up a hand. “Nolan, man, let me explain . . . It’s not what—”

  “It’s not what I think?” He waved at his sister. “You’re not in bed with my sister right now? ’Cause that’s what it looks like.”

  Beau grimaced. “Okay. I know it looks bad.”

  Nolan barked a single laugh. “You forget who you’re talking to. I know you. I know what you do to girls . . . how you use them.”

  Beau flinched. “I wouldn’t—”

  Nolan was in front of Beau in three strides, unable to let the lie even drop on the air. He shoved him hard in the chest. Beau staggered.

  “But you did, Beau. You went there. You just couldn’t help yourself. You could bang any number of girls out there, but you had to go after my sister.”

  “Nolan!” Emmaline lifted her voice. “Stop! It’s not like that.”

  Nolan laughed harshly. Ugly anger sizzled through him. “Really, Emmaline? I thought you were smarter than that. You think you’re the one for him? Beau has never had a girlfriend. There’s a reason for that. The guy doesn’t commit. He’s all about getting laid.”

  Emmaline’s face burned red. “It’s not like that. Beau and I are . . .” Her gaze slid to Beau and the uncertainty surfaced. It was written all over her face. She blinked several times, as though she had something in her eyes.

  Seeing her doubt only angered him more. What kind of lies and promises had Beau told her? She shouldn’t look that way.

  Nolan wanted to think Beau would never use Emmaline like he did other girls, but then five minutes ago he would have sworn Beau would have never climbed into bed with her in the first place.

  Nolan didn’t know anything anymore.

  He was in deep over a girl who didn’t want anything to do with him. He didn’t know his own best friend. He didn’t know his own sister. He didn’t even know himself. Not his own heart.

  “Get out of my house.” He grabbed Beau by the shirt and flung him in the direction of the bedroom door, ready to haul him out if need be. Ready to vent all his anger, all his disappointment, on him.

  His sister hopped up from the bed, wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt, and the sight only added to his foul temper.

  “You don’t get to do that, Nolan!” She planted her fists on her hips. “This is my home, too. You’re not the only one who lives here!”

  Beau shook his head. “I’ll just go.”

  “Yeah. Great idea,” Nolan said bitterly. “Go. Leave. Don’t ever come back. Don’t ever think you will be welcome here again.”

  “Nolan!” That horrified look was back on Emmaline’s face.

  He shook his head. He wouldn’t be swayed by it. It didn’t affect him. Everything he felt ran too deep. This was a betrayal he would never forgive.

  Beau’s face was all grim acceptance. He was smart enough to not even attempt to defend himself. His actions were indefensible.

  Beau moved slowly toward the door, stopping for a moment and turning to look back at Emmaline. “I’m sorry—”

  “You don’t get to speak to her. Not even to apologize.” He grabbed Beau and pushed him toward the door again.

  “Stop it!” Emmaline cried, latching onto his arm.

  Beau’s face contorted and he twisted around and knocked Nolan’s hands off him, severing the contact.

  From there, everything just spun out, happening too quickly to track.

  Nolan didn’t know who moved next, or who pushed who, but suddenly Emmaline was on the floor and he and Beau were locked together, struggling, grunting, flailing around the room like a pair of gladiators hungry for a kill.

  They collided into the dresser, knocking over several of his sister’s knickknacks. He managed to land a punch in Beau’s side before they twisted around and banged into the wall. One of Emmaline’s shelves collapsed, raining books over them.

  Beau took advantage of the distraction and sent his fist crashing into Nolan’s face.

  Nolan returned the favor with a shout, releasing all his anger on his former best friend and plowing his fist into his face with a satisfying whack.

  He was dimly aware of Emmaline screaming, and the arrival of his mother, shouting and wedging herself between them.

  Then they were apart. He took another swipe for Beau.

  “Enough!” his mother shouted.

  He stilled, his chest rising and falling with hard breaths. Blood trickled hotly down his face and he wiped the back of his hand against it.

  Beau stared back at him, wild-eyed, the skin around his left eye quickly reddening and swelling.

  He heard crying. Nolan’s gaze shot around the room, taking in his mother’s shocked expression.

  And there was Emmaline—sobbing, sliding down the wall until she was a crumpled ball on the carpet. She tucked her legs inside her oversized shirt and sat there, rocking back and forth as tears ravaged her face.

  “I think you should leave, Beau,” Mom commanded. One look at her face told Nolan she had correctly assessed the situation. She had grasped the basic gist of what happened. Once you got an eyeful of Emmaline it wasn’t hard to figure out.

  Nodding, Beau turned and left.

  Lesson #30

  Know where you stand with someone before you hook up. It will save you drama later.

  x Hayden x

  Hayden couldn’t shake her sense of regret. It felt as dark and bottomless as an abyss, sucking her down inside its unknown depths.

  She let it pull her under, escaping through sleep. Regret couldn’t follow her there. She knew it was unhealthy. Problems had to be faced. Eventually. She knew she couldn’t sleep forever, but for the time being, staying holed up in her room the rest of the weekend was her form of self-care. Curled up on her bed, the door locked, a barrier between her and the world outside, was the height of comfort.

  She didn’t usually do regret. Regret was for people who didn’t know their own minds. Neither one of those things was her.

  At least that was what she had always told herself. She’d believed she was too strong for that.

  She was not like her mother, who complained incessantly, about how much life had wronged her, how life dumped on her every time something bad happened, which was all the time.

  Hayden had always known herself. Known what she wanted in life. Known what she did not want. That was her gift: self-awareness. As soon as she graduated from high scho
ol, she would be out of her house, out of this town. She would be gone and never look back.

  She fumbled for her phone in the gloom of her room and called in sick for work, something she never did. But the last thing she wanted to do was serve frozen yogurt to the after-church crowd. That wouldn’t be good for her soul at all. All those happy families dressed in their Sunday best, coming in on a spiritual high, had a way of making her feel . . . less. It always succeeded in reminding her of what she wasn’t. What she didn’t have in her life.

  Nolan had that kind of life. Even if he’d lost his father, he had that kind of sit-around-a-pot-roast-and-talk-about-your-day family.

  She snorted.

  And then she wondered if maybe she wasn’t a little bit judgy. She had condemned Nolan for being judgmental of her when she was guilty of the same thing. Ironic, huh?

  She had been hard on him, accusing him of forming opinions of her based on gossip and stereotypes, but when he had glimpsed into the reality of her life with Mom, she didn’t want him looking inside. She didn’t want him seeing.

  He had peeked into her world, stood outside her ugly home with his arms outstretched, offering to help her, offering to be there for her like a true friend. She had so few of those.

  Friends expected things. They wanted to be allowed inside, and she was not okay with opening the door.

  He’d made her uncomfortable. He wanted things from her. Things no one had ever wanted.

  He wanted inside.

  Life was so much easier when she was dealing with guys who didn’t want anything from her—who didn’t want anything real. Who never knocked on her door. She knew where she stood with them. Where they stood. So yeah, she used them, engaging with them only on a superficial level and never for any significant length of time. Random hookups. She called the shots. She stayed in control.

  Truthfully, life was easier when she kept everyone on the outside. It had never been hard keeping people at arm’s length before, but now she suddenly had Emmaline and Sanjana in her face every time she turned around. They’d wiggled their way into her world right alongside Nolan.

  She felt her control slipping. She wanted things to go back to before. To life without people, without friends, without guys who wanted more than a quick make-out sesh.