Текст книги "Fall Into Forever"

Автор книги: Beth Hyland

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

I slide my hands along his muscular back. “Yes, Jon, I’m one hundred percent sure.”

The warm, broad tip of him rubs my inner thigh, getting closer and closer. And then it’s there. Right at the center of me. He hesitates a moment longer, even in the dark room, I can feel his blue eyes searching mine. I know he’s giving me a chance to change my mind. But I don’t. I can’t. I need him to quell the ache inside me. Rolling his hips, he slowly enters me.

I bite my lip to keep from crying out, not wanting him to think something’s wrong. He’s heavy and thick, but it doesn’t hurt. Not quite.

Once he’s all the way in, he stills himself and props up on his elbows, his face inches from mine. “Are you okay?” His brow is furrowed as he gauges my reaction.

I’m touched by his concern. I have no doubt that if I wanted him to stop, he’d stop. “Um, yeah. I’m… You’re…” God, I can’t even think straight. “It’s perfect.”

He kisses my neck, right under my earlobe. Goosebumps skitter along my arms and legs. “Good, because you feel awesome to me, too.”

With long, smooth strokes, he begins to move inside me. Almost instantly, an intensely wicked pressure builds in my lower belly, turning every nerve ending into molten lava. I cling to him, my nails digging into his back. His tempo increases as if he knows exactly the effect his body is having on mine.

“Are you close?” he asks, not breaking his rhythm.

How could I not be? “I…I think so. Why?”

“Because I am, but I want to make sure you go first.”

Me? First? And before I can think of anything further or utter another word, my inner muscles tighten around him. Without warning, the pressure explodes, shooting into every corner of my body. “Oh my God, Jon!”

His mouth is on mine, devouring me. With every thrust, every kiss, Jon Priestly consumes me. My body. My soul.

“Ivy!” he groans, his muscles straining. He shudders. I feel him pulse inside me.

When he finally collapses on top of me, a thin layer of sweat covers both of us.

“Wow,” he says breathlessly. “That was incredible.”

And that’s when I know that I have consumed him, too.

I stroke his back, feeling every hard muscle. “Same. I can honestly say that I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Mmmm. Good.” His voice rumbles through his chest and into mine. He lifts his head and tenderly kisses my bruised lips. “Because we’re going to do it again in the morning.”

chapter fifteen

If darkness is really not darkness at all,

but rather, the absence of light,

then my flaws are not really flaws at all,

but rather, the absence of you.

~ Christopher Poindexter

Jon

Ivy is still sleeping, her hair spread out in soft waves over my pillow, when I enter the room. I set the two plates of waffles on the desk, stroll to the window, and open the blinds. Cool February sunlight streams through the single-paned glass, frosty with condensation.

Last night with her was nothing short of amazing. There wasn’t that awkward getting-to know-each-other stage, where you’re trying to figure out what the other person likes. Is this right or too much? Does this hurt or are you okay?

No matter how I touched her, she responded like a finely tuned instrument under my hands. Just thinking about it now is enough to make me hard all over again. I can feel the front of my sweats tenting outward.

She stirs under the covers.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I say, leaning over her.

One green eye opens. Then the other. Keeping the sheets over her chest, she pushes herself to a sitting position and looks around, confused. Her hair is sticking up and she’s got sheet marks on the side of her face.

God, she’s gorgeous.

When her gaze lands on me, her cheeks redden. I’m guessing she’s remembering what we did last night. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven.”

“Eleven? That late?” Her voice, raspy and low, is so damn sexy.

Let’s see if I can make her blush again. “Must’ve been all the awesome sex we had last night.”

Yep. It worked. Two bright spots of color appear on her cheeks. She’s trying not to smile, but she’s not doing a very good job. “Do you see my T-shirt?”

I look around but don’t see it. I grab one of my old PSU football jerseys and hand it to her instead. “It’s clean.”

“Thanks.” She pulls it over her head and gets up. It hangs to mid-thigh as she walks across the hardwood floor toward the bathroom.

“Don’t be in there too long or the food will get cold.”

“I’ll be out in a sec.”

When she comes out a few minutes later, her hair is piled into a messy bun on top of her head. Even without a stitch of makeup, she’s beautiful.

She tugs the hem of my jersey as she crosses the room. “So you played football?”

“Yeah, my freshman year.”

She sits next to me on the bed, and I hand her a plate. “So why aren’t you still on the team?”

“I was a decent player in high school, but college turned out to be totally different. They wanted me to stay on the practice squad, but I decided it wasn’t worth sacrificing my grades for.”

“Is that when you started working for the campus radio station?”

“Yeah. I’ve always loved music, so it was a good fit.”

She nods thoughtfully, then takes a bite. “Um, these are even better than the Waffle Stop. You made them? They don’t look like they’re from the freezer.”

“Waffles of Insane Greatness.”

She laughs. “What?”

“That’s the name of the recipe. Got it from one of my mom’s old boyfriends, who found it online. That’s about the only thing he was good for, too.”

She takes another bite. “So, have you heard if they’ve caught the guy who attacked Maddy?”

“Not yet. When I was downstairs, I called the radio station to see if they had any news. So far, the police don’t have any leads.”

“I should probably let Cassidy know what’s going on before she hears it from someone else.” She sets down her plate, grabs her phone from the nightstand, and types out a text. “As soon as she sees this, she’ll probably—” The phone vibrates. “—call.”

Ivy answers and proceeds to tell her roommate what happened in the dorm. At something Cassidy says, Ivy’s gaze flickers to mine. She turns away slightly, but not before I see her cheeks redden again. “Um, Jon’s.” She pauses, bites the inside of her lip. “Yes.” Another pause. Then a little laugh. “Good.” She picks at a loose thread on my football jersey. “I know. Okay, I will.” And then finally, “Talk to you later. I’ll call you if I hear anything.”

“What did she say?” I ask after she hangs up.

“She’s freaked out, of course. But she’s happy I’m here with you.”

“She is?” Guilt gnaws at my stomach. I failed to return Ivy’s calls and texts until she stopped trying to get in touch with me. If that’s not the definition of an asshole, I don’t know what is. “I’ve acted pretty shitty these past few weeks. I just want you to know that it’s not you or anything you did, it’s—”

“Jon, please. I don’t want to hear it. What’s done is done. Can we just pretend it didn’t happen? At least for a few more hours? I’m liking the way things are right now.”

Maybe she’s willing to pretend it didn’t happen, but I can’t.

“I should’ve called or texted. It’s just that…I was scared things were moving too fast. And I’m not—you’d be—” I notice something gray and fuzzy sticking out of her pillowcase. “What’s that?”

She glances down and quickly shoves it back inside. “Nothing.”

“Looks like something to me. What is it?”

She’s chewing on her lip again. “I’d really rather not say.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll laugh. Or it’ll tick you off.”

That doesn’t make sense. Maybe it’s funny, but why would it make me angry? “I highly doubt it. Come on. Show me. I promise I won’t laugh. Well, I might laugh, but I won’t be mad.”

Sheepishly, she reaches into the pillowcase and pulls out a ratty stuffed animal that has clearly seen better days.

“Did that used to be a…bear?”

She shakes her head. “A lemur.”

“That’s a lemur?”

“Yes. Without any stuffing, it’s hard to tell what he is.”

“I can see that.” I study her face. “Why would you think it would piss me off? I mean, I think it’s cute that you still sleep with a stuffed animal.”

“You do?” Her eyes widen.

“Of course.” Moving the plates aside, I grab her around the waist and pull her close. She smells like soap, toothpaste, and maple syrup. “Why in the hell would that make me mad?”

She shrugs. “I just knew someone once who was irritated by it. Said it was stupid and childish. So I got into the habit of stuffing it inside my pillowcase whenever he was around.”

He? “And that’s why you stuffed it in there now, because you thought I’d react the same way.” The air around us suddenly grows quiet. Who in her life would care if she slept with a stuffed animal or not? And then it occurs to me that I know exactly who, even if I don’t know his name. “Is this the same person who hurt you?”

Her eyes flash up to mine. She looks wary. “Hurt? What do you mean?”

“I can tell something has happened to you. Sometimes you get panicky, like you’re expecting a certain reaction from me.”

“I do?”

“Yes. Especially when you feel trapped.”

She blinks rapidly, refusing to meet my gaze.

“Ivy, talk to me.”

Still no answer.

“Did someone abuse you? Threaten you? Make you feel unsafe?”

At first I think she’s still not going to answer, until…

“Yes,” she whispers.

My protective instincts kick into overdrive and I pull her closer. “Tell me what happened.”

She buries her face in my shoulder but says nothing.

“Ivy, please. I want to know why you’re so scared.”

She places her hand on my chest, right above my heart. It beats a few times before she says anything. “He was popular in high school. I guess you could say we both were. When we started going out our senior year, everyone said we were the perfect couple. Star football player and cheerleader. Homecoming king and queen.” She pauses. “It’s pathetic, I know, but that was my life.”

“It’s not pathetic, Ivy. I had a screwed-up high school experience, and that’s putting it mildly. I’m glad yours was normal.”

“Normal is deceiving, though. What looks perfect and normal on the outside can be very dysfunctional on the inside. In my home town, lots of people stick around and marry their high school sweethearts, have kids, and live happily ever after.”

“And he thought you were destined for the same thing?” I recall the conversation we had about fate and destiny. She seemed pissed off about it at the time.

She nods. “But when we got to college and I got a glimpse of a bigger, wider world, I began to see Chase for what he was. A selfish, cruel person. I decided I didn’t want to live the rest of my life with someone like that.”

“So you broke up with him?”

“I tried to. Several times.”

“What do you mean, you tried to? You either do or you don’t, right?”

Her laugh is bitter and harsh. “You didn’t know Chase. He was used to getting his way. And when he didn’t, things got ugly. Fast. The trouble was, no one else saw that side of him. Only me. He’d be charming and funny when we were out in public, but behind closed doors things were much different.”

“What did he do to you, Ivy?” My tone is ice cold.

“I…I don’t want to talk about specifics. I can’t.”

Can’t or won’t? “Did you ever tell anyone what was going on?”

“A few times, but I’d get told I was blowing things out of proportion. He’s a good guy, they’d say.”

“Did you tell your parents?”

“No, not really. I tried once, but they wouldn’t listen.”

What about the boyfriend who died? The one you loved? Where does he fit in? I want to ask her these questions, but I don’t know how to bring it up. Either that, or I’m afraid of her answer.

“The guy sounds like a total asshole.” I squeeze her tighter and kiss the top of her head.

“One of the times I tried to break up with him, he barricaded me in his apartment for a whole weekend. Without my phone or computer. I had no way of contacting anyone. He finally let me go and told me it was just a joke.”

“A joke? Locking you up in his apartment was a fucking joke?” I feel like punching my hand through a wall right now.

“When I threatened to go to his dad, the Lincoln Falls chief of police, Chase just laughed. He said if I told his dad, he wouldn’t believe me anyway, and my mom could get fired.”

“How is that possible? I don’t get it.”

“Lincoln Falls is really small. Everyone knows everyone and/or is related. His dad is the police chief and his aunt is my mom’s supervisor. I don’t know if that would’ve happened or not, but I couldn’t take the chance. Money was really tight in our house. Is really tight. We couldn’t afford for my mom to lose her job. And then he said something I’ll never forget. He told me that no one would ever believe me anyway, because he was one of the golden boys. The darling of Lincoln Falls. He could do no wrong. Everyone loved him and would believe his word over mine.”

“That’s crazy. How is that even possible?”

She shrugs. “It’s a small town and my family has only lived there for a few years. They still consider us outsiders. His family, though, goes way back. His great-grandfather was the first mayor. So, yeah, they’ll believe a Marquette over anyone else.”

I can’t take it any longer. I move her off my lap, stand, and start aimlessly pacing the room. Who the fuck does this guy think he is? I know it happened a few years ago, but I have the urge to jump on my bike, hunt him down, and kick his ass. “So what did you do?”

“I stuck it out until I could figure out what I could do.” She rubs her forehead and grimaces.

“Are you okay?”

“I usually get migraines when I think about this stuff, but it’s not as bad as it usually is.”

“What can I get you? Aspirin? An ice pack?”

She gives me a weak smile. “Thanks, but I actually take something stronger.”

I point to her bag. “Where? Is it in there?” I make a move in that direction, but she puts a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.

“It’s a prescription. But I don’t have any left.”

“Then I’ll go to your room and get them. Just tell me where—”

“What I mean is, I’m all out.”

“Can you get a refill? I can go down and—”

She cups my face in her hand, strokes her thumb over my temple. “Thank you for trying to take care of me.” Then she sighs. “But I don’t have any refills left, either. That’s the problem. I need to see a doctor up here to get more.”

“Then let’s go. The Student Health Center is open on Saturdays and they take walk-in appointments.”

“Jon…I…” She hesitates, blinks.

I search her expression, looking for what’s wrong. “What?” She doesn’t answer. “Ivy, tell me.”

She looks down at her hands. “I need to go to the Student Counseling Center, not the health center.”

“Okay, that’s cool. I don’t know if they’ve got Saturday hours. Do you?” I pull my phone from my pocket.

“Jon. No.” There’s an insistence in her voice that makes me look up from the screen. “We’re talking a shrink here,” she says, biting her lip. “A doctor for crazy people.”

“You’re not crazy, Ivy. You get migraines. Besides, I’m pretty sure any doc can prescribe migraine meds. You don’t need to go to the SCC for that.”

“But they’ll want to know my medical history. And when they do…” Her voice trails off.

“Ivy? What happened? Tell me.”

She bites the inside of her lip. “Jon, I…I haven’t told you everything. You know that accident where I almost died?”

I nod.

A single tear runs down her face. “The last thing I remember was walking home from class that day. Not the party or the fight with Chase or getting into his car. But everyone who was there said that—”

“Wait. Chase the asshole, controlling boyfriend? He was in the accident with you?” So she wasn’t in love with him after all. My mind races back to why I made that assumption. It was Tate. Goddamnit. Why the hell did I ever listen to him?

“Yes,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “The most pivotal event in my life and I can’t remember what happened, just tiny bits and pieces before and after the accident. The doctors call it retrograde amnesia with islands of memory. Except that I feel things a person in my shoes shouldn’t feel. Wrong things. Horrible things.”

“What are you talking about, Ivy?” I try to take her in my arms, but she pushes me away. “Are you feeling guilty because the guy was a jerk and now he’s dead?”

“Yes, I guess that’s part of it. And then there was my breakdown. My mom likes to call it an incident, because that sounds better. It happened out in public. I…I lost it.”

I sit next to her on the bed, but she refuses to look at me. I put the tips of my fingers under her chin and lift her head. “You’re not crazy, Ivy. And you’re not fucked up, either. When you’ve been through a lot, like you have, things can build up inside. It becomes a perfect storm of emotions, where everything converges at once.”

She sniffs and gives me a small smile. “Another movie reference?”

I hadn’t thought about it, but yeah. “What if I went with you? You really need to talk to a professional about all this. It’s too much of a burden to carry around yourself.”

She frowns. “Come with me? To my appointment?”

“Not into your appointment, but to the SCC with you. I could wait in the waiting room. Would you go then?”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Have you…ever been to counseling?”

“Yeah.” If telling her about my experience will help her decide to go get help, then it’s worth it. “After my mom died, I went to a dark place. Started hanging out with a bad crowd. Drinking and smoking weed. That’s when…when I got into some trouble.”

I tell her about the Saturday night fight club. Selling weed. Breaking into Mr. Hoffman’s house.

I put my head in my hands. Of all the shit I’ve done, I feel the worst about the break-in. With the other stuff, I was doing the shit to myself, not some innocent person. We were high and I got talked into looking for a few easy-to-sell electronics. The guys I was with ended up trashing the place. I tried to stop them, but it was one of me and three of them.

Feeling her hand on my back, I look up. She gives me an encouraging smile.

“And then what happened?”

“I…uh…got sent to juvie. Through some miracle that probably had something to do with Stella, they agreed to defer my sentence and expunge my record when I turned eighteen if I went to counseling and stayed out of trouble.”

I suddenly feel like a phony, spouting off this shit like I’m some kind of expert. The truth is, if they hadn’t made me go into counseling, I’d never have done it on my own.

“And did it help?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. I ended up making the football team my senior year after missing the year before, and I managed to get decent grades.”

The front door slams downstairs and then there’s the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. A moment later, someone is pounding on my bedroom door.

I get up and unlock the door. It’s James.

“Dude, I’ve been texting you. Are you getting the beer for tonight or am I?”

Tonight? Shit. That’s right. There’s another party. I glance over at Ivy. I doubt either one of us will be in a partying mood tonight.

“I don’t think we’re going, bro. In fact…” I pull him out into the hall and close the door.

“What’s up?” James asks.

“I haven’t talked about this with Ivy yet, but can we stay at your family’s beach house tonight? After what happened last night, it would be good for her to get away.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “I’ll get you the key. Just make sure to wash the sheets in the morning.”

It takes us a little over an hour to get to the beach house that James’s parents bought as a vacation property when he started at PSU.

On the way down, we stop at Subway and pick up some sandwiches for later. The weather is pretty decent, so as soon as we arrive, we drop off our stuff and head for the beach. The house is on a bluff overlooking the water, so we zigzag down several flights of steps, which dump us right onto the sandy beach.

We spend a couple of hours just walking, picking up broken shells and rocks that Ivy says are pretty. My pockets are filled with her finds.

“I still don’t feel like I know you, Jon,” she says, as she examines a small, mustard-colored stone.

“What are you talking about? We just bared our deepest, darkest secrets to each other.”

“Yeah, but do I know your birthday? Your favorite color? Your favorite kind of animal? No.”

I laugh. She does have a point. “November 13. Navy blue. Ocelot.”

She makes a funny face. “Ocelot?”

“Yeah, they’re these really cool small leopards. Plus, I like the name. Say it three times really fast.”

“Ocelot, ocelot, ocelot,” she says, laughing.

“See what I mean? Ever since I did a report on them in the third grade, I’ve liked them.” I grab a stick and start writing our names in the sand. “Except for your birthday—January 14—I don’t know those things about you, either. Unless a lemur is your favorite animal,” I add, remembering her stuffed animal.

“It’s one of them,” she says. “I also love meerkats. I’ve watched every episode of Meerkat Manor.”

I nod. “Flower was cool.”

She knocks me in the shoulder. “Get out. You watched it, too?”

“I can’t say that I’ve watched every episode, but, yeah, sometimes. And your favorite color?”

“I switch off between teal and purple.”

Given what she was wearing the first night I met her, I should’ve known.

Once we get back to the house, we have a fancy dinner of Subway sandwiches and Diet Coke. It’s too cold and windy to be out on the deck, so I grab my guitar and sit on the couch. Ivy stretches out on the other end, with her head on the armrest and her toes—in matching socks this time—tucked under my leg. As I pick at a few random chords, she props a book on her chest—a collection of poems—and starts reading.

It feels good to just hang with her. Doing nothing. Saying nothing. Just being in each other’s company.

“Can you play me something?”

I look over and her book is laying facedown on her chest.

I start playing one of my father’s lesser-known hits. I can play all his songs, but this one is my favorite. I stop when I realize what I’m doing.

“Nice,” she says, smiling. “Is that something you wrote?”

I’m glad she doesn’t recognize it. “No.”

I change chords and a different melody fills the room. This time, it’s a song I wrote. Or I should say, am writing. I’ve never been able to get the ending right. And I’ve never played it for anyone before. Ivy is the first.

They say you’ll always like the music you listened to in high school because it takes you back to a time when things were simpler. When everything was new. First kiss. First love. First time you have sex. You’re standing on the edge of your whole life with the world stretched out before you. Everything and anything is possible.

For me, that time wasn’t simple. I don’t have fond memories that I relive when one of those songs comes on the radio. It’s when a lot of bad things happened. Plus, my father had a top ten hit at the time that everyone was listening to. I couldn’t get away from it. Hell, the marching band even played it at halftime once. I lost my shit during the second half and ended up getting kicked out of the game.

So I started writing my own music. Not to take after my father, but to get him out of my head. This song calms me, takes me away from all that.

The air around me stirs. I open my eyes, not realizing I had closed them. Ivy is sitting on the floor at my feet, her chin tilted upward, listening. I put my palm against the strings and the sound fades away.

She frowns. “Don’t stop, Jon. It’s…it’s beautiful. I want to hear the rest.”

I’ll tell you what’s beautiful. The girl in front of me. I exhale a long, slow breath, hoping I’m not in the middle of a dream right now.

“Tell me you wrote that one, because—”

“How did you know?” I ask, curious. She wasn’t nearly as confident when she asked the same thing about my father’s song.

She shrugged. “I don’t really know. It…it sounds like you, I guess.”

The initial chord sequence came to me while I was living in the basement of my foster family’s home. I’d sit down there for hours, often stoned, and play it over and over. Ivy’s right. It is a part of me.

“Mmmm.” She closes her eyes. “Keep playing.”

So I do, starting from the beginning. After the third chorus, when I get to the part I usually struggle with, the song changes slightly. For some reason, I reverse the chord sequence.

I stop, replay that part. It’s…it’s perfect. I can’t believe it didn’t come to me until now. I play it again, start to finish. Holy shit. That one little change has made all the difference.

Suddenly, I’m staring down into her warm green eyes, and she’s staring up at me. Something shifts between us. An awareness. A shared secret.

Without saying a word, she moves closer. With the song still echoing in the air, she removes the guitar from my grasp and sets it on the floor beside the couch. Her eyes are dark with need, echoing my desire. She hooks her thumbs under the waistband of my sweats, so I lift my hips and she slides them down. My erection springs free.

“Jesus, Ivy.” I can’t get inside her fast enough. I start to pull her up on my lap, but she stops me with a hand on my chest.

“Not yet,” she says and pushes me back in my seat. She frees my feet from the sweats and tosses them behind her. Which leaves me sitting on the couch, naked from the waist down, my cock jutting out at her. “I admit I had that in mind, but seeing you like this—” The tip of her tongue darts out. “—makes me want to do something else first.”

Holy fuck.

I’m pretty sure I just got harder.

“Is that okay with you?” she asks, a smile tugging at the corner of her luscious mouth.

“Of course.” She could ask me to do anything right now and I’d gladly do it.

She positions herself between my knees, leans forward and takes me into her mouth.

I groan loudly, grabbing the armrest to keep from holding onto her hair. Instinctively, I know that could make her panic. And believe me, stopping is the last thing I want her to do right now.

What is it about Ivy that hits all the right notes with me? She makes me laugh, makes me feel good about myself, and I’m not just saying that because she has my dick in her mouth right now. She has this amazing ability to drive away the darkness that has always been a part of my life.

At this rate, I’m not going to last much longer, and as much as I want her to continue, I want her to experience this, too.

Wordlessly, I lift her to her feet. She lets out a surprised laugh when I scoop her into my arms, carry her to the bedroom, and set her on the mattress. My mouth crashes over hers as we strip off our clothes. Without breaking our kiss, I grab the box of condoms I brought. Goddamn it. You think they’d know people don’t want to spend much time trying to figure out how the box works. I wrench myself away from her, rip it open, and little foil packages go flying.

“Fuck!”

She laughs.

I tear one open with my teeth and quickly roll it on. Her hair spreads over the pillow, her lips slightly swollen and parted. I fall on top of her, my mouth finding hers again as I guide myself like an arrow. There. The tip slides in, right between her folds, and I stop.

“Baby, you ready?” I ask against her lips. “After what this naughty mouth of yours just did, I’m about to explode.”

“Yes,” she whispers, kissing me back.

That’s all I need to hear.

With my weight braced on my forearms, I flex my hips and push into her. She hisses in a breath. I still myself briefly, allowing her a chance to get used to me being inside her. She’s so hot. So damn tight. I’m not going to last long.

“Fuck me, Jon.”

Oh shit. My mouth crashes over hers and I thrust into her. Once. Twice. Three times.

“God, Ivy,” I groan into her hair. “I hope you’re close.”

She cries out my name and arches her back, allowing me to slide a fraction deeper. Her inner muscles tighten around me. Guess that’s my answer.

I’m…I’m there, too.

I need this.

I need Ivy.

She’s mine.

My release rushes over me with a force so strong that, I swear, my heart stopped beating for a second. I hold her tighter, wishing this could go on forever.

“Yes,” she whispers softly in my ear. “I need you, too.”