For always, p.16
For Always, page 16
Kate laughed, her body shaking hard enough to jostle me. “Please, Jason. Let’s not pretend that you don’t find me unbearable at times or that you won’t always see me as Beau’s bratty sister.”
I wouldn’t. I most certainly wouldn’t, and I was completely serious when I said, “You’re not unbearable, Kate. I want to bear you. I like bearing you.”
Standing in the wind alone was a strange sensation as the breeze of Kate’s indifference to this dalliance brushed over me.
“I thought we were beyond the childhood stuff. You understood I wasn’t making fun of you at prom or intending to make you feel like a fool.
“I just panicked in a stupid attempt at self-preservation. Dickish, yes, but I didn’t mean it. You weren’t just Beau’s little sister, and I wasn’t just messing with you.”
Kate hummed, squeezing the hand around her waist and stepping away to continue admiring the light displays.
“We’re good, Jason.”
“We’re great,” I corrected, trotting on her heels like a lovesick puppy. “You can’t make up this chemistry.”
It’d always been there, resting between us with unsettled air and uncomfortable attempts to make sense of it. The teasing wasn’t because Kate was a brat. I mean, she was, but something else pulled me to her. It would have been easy enough to ignore Kate over the years.
Sort of. She’d often throw herself in the middle of Beau and me, flopping around like a fish out of water, trying to suck the oxygen out of the room. But maybe that was because Kate didn’t understand what it meant, either.
Kate’s lips curled into a sensual smile. “Jason Clovely. Do you have a crush on me?” Her eyes flashed with amusement, and her voice lilted with delight. “Do you want to be boyfriend and girlfriend? To hold hands down the hallway and kiss next to my locker?”
“Kate.” I wasn’t sure if it was a warning or an admission of guilt. “You’re teasing me in a very emotionally vulnerable moment.” Dropping my chin to my chest, I gave her a pointed look.
She bit her lip, her smile widening. “Do you want to go steady?”
I couldn’t blame her for her flippant response to me. I set the tone for it years ago, and probably this trip home, too.
I gave a lazy lift of one shoulder, my toe sweeping across the pavement. “Maybe.”
Kate grinned, wasting no time wrapping her arms around me and snuggling against my chest. As if that were any less confusing about this entire situation.
“Kiss me in front of the lights,” she whispered, her voice sweet as molasses as she lifted her face to look at me.
I did, taking my time. The time I had and the time she’d give me. Even if I wasn’t sure it was enough.
When Kate and I returned, Beau was frosting cookies with Mr. and Mama Dalton in the kitchen. He gave a half-wave and grunted a hello before muttering profanities about sprinkles sticking to his frosting-sticky fingers.
Kate nudged him with her elbow, reaching for a shaker of silver dragees and depositing nearly half the bottle on a freshly frosted snowman.
“How is Fallon doing?”
Mama Dalton looked up, her mouth open. “You were with Fallon Campbell?”
Beau glared at Kate and mumbled, “I was just catching up with an old friend. What were you doing, Kate?”
Kate, ever the pro, didn’t take the bait. She nodded toward me. “Helped that ding-dong get groceries. You guys eat like a roving pack of hippos.”
I leaned against the counter, watching the Daltons lick their fingers, touch cookies, dip knives in frosting, and lick along the dull tips as if germs didn’t exist.
“A bloat,” I corrected.
Kate stopped mid-lick, her eyes squinting. “What?”
“It’s not a pack of hippos. It’s a bloat,” I said, reaching for a gingerbread man. “A group of hippos is a bloat. We’re a pair, anyway.”
Beau bristled. “I’m bulking up for a role. I need the calories. Besides, Kate’s the one who drinks like a gossiping pack of bored housewives.”
Kate continued licking her fingers. “I believe that’s a gaggle, Beau. A gaggle of bored housewives.”
I shook my head, laughing, as Mama Dalton muttered, “You did drink all that wine.”
Kate ignored her mother. “What role are you going for this time?”
She finished frosting a star in a deep red with green candy wreaths sprinkled over it. With messy frosting and an unnecessary heap of sprinkles, it resembled a four-year-old’s work. My heart nearly split from the endearment of it.
Beau set his frosting knife down and wiped his hands on his jeans before bringing them up to announce, “I want to be Thor’s double.”
Mama Dalton clapped her hands excitedly and hustled more cookies over to be frosted. Mr. Dalton pinched his lips together and said nothing.
Kate wasn’t as quiet. “Ha! You think you’ll ever double for a Hemsworth?” She eyed him skeptically. “You need a lot more bulk.”
“That’s not what Fallon said,” Beau mumbled.
“Gross.” Kate gagged as Mr. Dalton stood up and cleared his throat.
“Son, live your best life.”
Beau pointed to his eyebrows. “You’re telling me that Chris and I aren’t a dead match?”
No one said a word; the only sound in the kitchen came from the living room stereo, a mix of Christmas favorites. Three seconds later, everyone burst into laughter just as The Little Drummer Boy ended.
My chest warmed with affection, my entire body radiating appreciation for the Daltons. This was nice. Feeling like part of a family.
We finished the cookies, taking them to eat in the living room while Mama Dalton dragged out several photo albums and insisted we revisit family memories and appreciate one another.
“We,” Mama Dalton said, her eyes not leaving mine. “You’re family, too.”
Kate made a sound in her throat, something akin to affection, but tried to brush it off as a burp. Beau treated the entire activity as a challenge to find as many embarrassing photos of Kate as he could until Mama Dalton grew tired of the bickering and told us to put on a movie.
The arguing didn’t improve when Mr. Dalton picked Die Hard.
Kate and I stood atop our hill, fighting tooth and nail and willing to die up there because Die Hard was for sure a Christmas movie. Beau and Mr. Dalton were fools.
Mama Dalton rubbed her temples, declaring herself Switzerland when we demanded she break the tie.
Beau went to bed first. Mr. and Mama Dalton soon after. Kate and I sat in the living room, lights off, with the glow of the tree and the fire dancing over our faces as we stared at one another. Her thumb traced over the back of my knuckle.
“I would go steady with you,” I said softly, letting my gaze drift to the slide of her thumb. “Hold your hand in the hallway and kiss you next to your locker.”
Kate smiled, her head dropping against the couch as she exhaled slowly. “Not too embarrassed to be seen with an underclassman?”
“Not even a little.”
It was a nice fantasy to imagine a past where I accepted my crush on Kate growing up, or she acknowledged hers. But we both knew the reality wouldn’t have landed the same.
I wasn’t ready for Kate when I was eighteen, nor was she ready for me.
Admiring her on that couch in the glow of the fire and tree lights, my heart swelling with affection for the woman she’d become… I worried she still didn’t feel ready. Maybe I’d hurt Kate in those too-tender years for her to trust me not to do it again.
Maybe Kate was right that there wasn’t a place for us outside this fantasy.
But maybe in this living room, in this house, in this town, in this week... we were giving ourselves the gift of extending disbelief.
I brushed the thought aside, falling into the fool’s paradise that the other side of tomorrow, Christmas, and New Year’s didn’t exist. Instead, I kissed her, long and slow, hungry and desirous. I kissed her until she broke away, laughing as she pressed her hand to my chest. Her palm rested over my wildly racing heart, and she muttered about starting things I couldn’t finish.
We said goodnight, Kate unplugging the tree lights as I waited at the foot of the stairs. I took her hand, walked her to her room, and kissed her again. This time briefly, before she disappeared behind her closed door.
My forehead dropped against the frame, my staggered breaths reminding me that space was good. I was falling for Kate harder than she was falling for me. Even though my heart would take a beating at the end of it, I trusted that Kate would do it kindly. I trusted Kate. God, that was wild.
Nine months ago, I’d have sworn trust wouldn’t come again. Not in an intimate relationship. Hell. Ten years ago, I’d have sworn Kate would stab me in my sleep if given the chance.
I crawled into bed, that shitty air mattress on Beau’s floor that would need to be refilled in the night, and even still, I’d wake up sunk in the middle.
Rubbing my eyes, I stared blankly at the shadows across the ceiling. Beau’s heavy snores told me he was asleep.
My barreling thoughts told me I wouldn’t get much sleep of my own.
Twenty
Kate
The sinking of my mattress woke me from a restless sleep. I knew immediately it was Jason.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” I mumbled, rolling over to face him. It didn’t take long to adjust to the darkness once I blinked open my eyes.
The bed was warm with me burrowed beneath the quilt, but Jason’s skin was heated even though he only wore sweatpants and had traveled down the cold hallway to get there.
He pulled the blankets back, letting himself into the bed. There was hardly room for him, but I didn’t mind the proximity.
One panel on my curtains was open, letting in the pale radiance of the moon. Jason gazed at me, his face serious as his body pressed closer.
“Where should I be? If not here?”
I opened my mouth to give a sharp quip about an air mattress, but Jason’s hand slipped beneath the covers, cupping between my thighs as he rubbed me.
“Where do you want me to be? If not here?”
My heart danced, fluttering in rhythm with his steady hand as I released a soft sigh and let my body sink against him.
Hooking a leg over his hip, I gave him better access. Jason continued stroking, a slow building of arousal pleading for his hand to dip beneath my clothes and take more of me, but he didn’t.
“It’s snowing,” he whispered, our eyes locked.
My jaw slackened with the tender caresses of his palm, and I could only whimper a response. When he looked at me like that, I felt it in the marrow of my bones. His touch could melt my clothes, skin, muscles, and sinew and burrow into the deepest part of me.
My breathing picked up, my hips rocking forward as I ached beneath his hand. I wanted him. Desperately.
“It’s so beautiful outside. The clouds mute the black sky, and a full moon is peeking through. The sparkle of the snow on the ground as it piles up. I wanted to tell you.” His chin tipped upward as he watched me buck against his hand. “Do you want to see?”
No.
“Yes,” I whispered, not wanting him to stop touching me but knowing it was what he wanted me to say.
Jason slowly withdrew, letting his palm drag along my thigh as I untangled myself and followed him to the window.
My bedroom was small, the bed against the opposite wall to the window because the glass was single pane in this old house, and any gust or breeze found its way inside. But my body was hot, blazing, and ardent with need.
I stood at the window, admiring the snow accumulation in the backyard and the falling fat drops. If I stepped outside, it would be silent, the powder muffling all sound. It was my favorite part about the snow. I hated the cold. I hated the dampness when it melted. I fucking hated snow pants and snowball fights.
But I loved the peace.
Jason stood behind me, so close that his body crowded mine, and his fast exhales fanned the crown of my head. He reached around to take my hands, pressing my palms flat against the cold glass and leaning forward to whisper in my ear.
“Do you still think I shouldn’t be here?”
His touch ran along the back of my hands, tracing my forearms and over my shoulders. He smoothed a path along my back and down my ribs, sliding over my waist and hips before sinking lower.
My skin heated beneath his touch, tingling and warm with desire and longing.
Jason’s hands slipped between my pants’ waistband and my hips’ soft flesh, pushing the fabric down slowly. Lifting one foot, I used my toe to nudge my pants to the floor, kicking them away.
The soft cotton of Jason’s sweats brushed my backside. His erection pressed against me, solid and steeled, but his voice stayed tender.
“Do you still think I shouldn’t be here?”
I gasped, his hand cupping me again and his fingers sliding between the lips of my pussy. My chin dropped to my chest with a moan, my ass pressing harder against him as he brought his other arm to wrap around my hips and pin me.
The room was so silent that I could hear his fingers slicking in my arousal when he pushed one inside me, then a second. He pumped his fingers before pulling out and sliding farther back until they rested over my asshole.
“Or maybe you think I should be here?” He slowly pressed a finger inside, and my body reflexively tightened. “Relax for me, Kate,” he whispered.
It was a strange sensation, being touched there when it wasn’t something I’d commonly done, but I let him feel me. All of me. When I eased enough to allow myself to move on his hand, he chuckled, nipping at my neck and biting the soft skin near my collarbone.
My fingers flexed against the glass, the tips sliding in the condensation along the window as the heat of my body met the cold from outside.
“Not tonight,” he murmured against my nape, his tongue tracing the tightening muscle in my neck. “I want it when I don’t have to cover your mouth and keep you quiet. I want to hear you lose it when I fill you everywhere I desire. Then again.”
I pressed my forehead to the window for a cool reprieve, my hips swaying and lust-drunk and wanting him to touch me. More of me. Inside of me. Over me. It didn’t matter. I just wanted him to do something.
Instead, he kept his fingers still, his breath spreading along my skin like a fire that could burn anything in its path. And I wanted it to. I liked the searing touch, white-hot pleasure, and incineration of his attention.
“Please.” I wasn’t sure if I said it or simply mouthed the word, but Jason understood it all the same, his body attuned to mine and his need matching the ache that radiated in every atom between us.
His mouth kissed along my neck and shoulders, his hands sliding to grip my hips as he steadied himself and dropped to his knees. I wasted no time pulling off my t-shirt and getting naked for him.
“Hands up,” he mumbled against the flesh of my cheek, biting before pushing my legs apart. “Hands up, and spread for me. That’s good. Just like that.”
He was nearly purring, his hands sliding to caress and palm my ass before he tugged on my hips to bring me closer to him.
Bent against the window, I was angled and open to him. I glanced over my shoulder, Jason on the back of his heels as he kneeled and stared at me.
Admiring. He was admiring me. My face flamed hot, and I pressed my cheek against the glass to keep from staring at him. I wasn’t used to something so intimate. Men had seen me, seen plenty of me, but I couldn’t recall a time when one stared because that itself proved pleasurable.
Jason sighed. “You have such a pretty cunt, Kate. The prettiest. Maybe if I’m lucky, you’ll let me take a picture and keep it, so I’ll have it forever. Would that be okay?”
“Yes,” I whispered, my breath fogging the window as it released quickly.
He hummed his approval, gliding his palms along the back of my legs, rising from the ankles until he reached the tops of my thighs.
“I’ll take your panties. I’ll take your picture. I’ll take what you’ll give me.”
His lips pressed soft kisses against the back of my thighs, one hand spreading me before his mouth heated my core. Nudging along the slit of my pussy, his tongue licked a slow pass, and he groaned. He licked again, another slow pass. And again, until he gripped the outside of my thighs and said, “But tonight, I won’t be taking. I’ll be giving.”
Then he devoured me, the generous man he was. He kneeled behind me, servicing me, worshiping me with his tongue, lips, teeth, and groans of pleasure.
He swirled and lavished and sucked and fucked, the satin heat of his mouth working my body until I was a wet, trembling mess and desperate to shatter. His fingers curled over the flesh of my hips, keeping me steady as I rocked and swayed and bit my lip to keep from crying out.
Jason didn’t stop, even after my core tightened, my toes curling into the carpet as I lifted onto the balls of my feet, and every muscle flexed with the tension of my climax.
“Shit. Shit, Jason.”
His tongue stroked gently as I quivered beneath him, my hands sliding down the windowpane and leaving a trail of sweat and steam in its wake. I gripped against the wood frame, my breath unable to steady.
Jason said nothing, sliding off his sweats and his body shadowing mine as he stood. He dropped his hips low, his cock notching against me. Groaning, he eased into me from behind, forcing me to rise onto the tips of my toes to take him.
“Fuck,” he murmured. “Kate.”
One arm wrapped around my chest, his hand lazily palming my breast as his fingers plucked at my nipple. The other hand held my hip while he jutted into me, keeping me stable as he struck deep. I pushed against the window for leverage, drawing him deeper, and he groaned his encouragement.
“You feel so good,” he breathed, a light sweat slicked between the skin of his chest and the skin of my back. “So good. Don’t make me stop. Please.” He groaned, a painful dulcet to the melody skipping through my heart. “Let me have you.”
I moaned, knowing it was loud. I was loud, too loud, but not caring. “Yes,” I panted, my breath ragged and my lungs empty. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get a full breath. Whether his words, his cock, that moment...
