Текст книги "Lux"

Автор книги: Courtney Cole

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter Nineteen

Time swirls and twirls and twists as it goes.

It’s tenuous, it’s sharp, it’s complex.

Adair DuBray does rent the Carriage House, and he’s elusive, and he’s mysterious and every day, I want to know him more.

Every day, I feel more like I know him already.

Every night, I dream about him, growing closer and closer to him.

A month passes, and one night, we stand at my favorite place, the blue tidal pools, and stare at the stars.

Dare points upward.

“That’s Orion’s belt. And that over there…. That’s Andromeda. I don’t think we can see Perseus tonight.” He pauses and stares down at me. “Do you know their myth?”

His voice is calm and soothing and as I listen to him, I let myself drift away from my current problems and toward him, toward his dark eyes and full lips and long hands.

I nod, remembering what I’d learned about Andromeda last year in Astrology. “Yes. Andromeda’s mother insulted Poseidon, and she was condemned to die by a sea monster, but Perseus saved her and then married her.”

He nods, pleased by my answer. “Yes. And now they linger in the skies to remind young lovers everywhere of the merits of undying love.”

I snort. “Yeah. And then they had a corny movie made for them that managed to butcher several different Greek myths at once.”

Dare’s lip twitches. “Perhaps. But maybe we can overlook that due to the underlying message of eternal love.” His expression is droll and I can’t decide if he’s being serious or just trying to be ironic or something, because the irony is lost on you.

“That’s bullshit, you know,” I tell him, rolling the metaphorical dice. “Undying love, I mean. Nothing is undying. People fall out of love or their chemistry dies or maybe they even die themselves. Any way you look at it, love always dies eventually.”

I should know. I’m Funeral Home Girl. I see it all the time.

Dare looks down at me incredulously. “If you truly believe that, then you believe that death controls us, or maybe even circumstance. That’s depressing, Calla. We control ourselves.”

He seems truly bothered and I stare at him, at once nervous that I’ve disappointed him and certain that I’m right.

I am the one surrounded by it all the time, after all…by death and bad circumstances. I am the one whose mother just died and I know that the world continues to turn like nothing ever happened.

“I don’t necessarily believe that death controls us,” I amend carefully. “But you can’t argue that it wins in the long run. Every time. Because we all die, Dare. So death wins, not love.”

He snorts. “Tell that to Perseus and Andromeda. They’re immortal in the sky.”

I snort right back. “They’re also not real.”

Dare stares at me, willing me to see his point of view and I’m suddenly confused about how we started out talking about love and are now talking about death. Leave it to me to work that into conversation.

“I’m sorry,” I offer. “I guess it’s a hazard of living where I do. Death is always present.”

“Death is big,” Dare acknowledges. “But there are things bigger than that. If there aren’t, then this is all for nothing. Life is worth nothing. Putting yourself out there, and taking chances and all that. All of that stuff is bollocks if it can just disappear in the end.”

I shrug and look away. “I’m sorry. I just believe in the right here and right now. That’s what we know and that’s what we can count on. And I don’t like to think about the end.”

Dare looks back at the sky, but he’s still pensive. “You seem rather pessimistic today, Calla-Lily.”

I swallow hard, because I do sound like a shrew. A jaded, ugly, bitter person.

“My mom died a few weeks ago,” I tell him and the words scrape my heart. “It’s still hard to talk about.”

He pauses and nods, as though everything makes sense now, as though he’s sorry because everyone always is. “Ah. I see. I’m sorry. I know how that feels. My mom is gone too.”

I shake my head and look away because my eyes are watering and it’s embarrassing. Because God. Am I ever going to be able to think about it without crying?

“It’s ok. You didn’t know,” I answer. “And you’re right. I’m probably jaded. Being surrounded by death all the time… well, I guess it’s made me ugly.”

Dare studies me, hard, his eyes glittering in the light of the driftwood fire which reflects purple flames into his black bottomless depths.

“You’re not ugly,” he tells me, his voice oh-so-beautiful. “Not by a long, long shot.”

His words make me lose my train of thought. Because of the way he’s looking at me right now… like I’m beautiful, like he knows me, when I’m really just Calla and he doesn’t.

“I’m sorry I’m so emotional tonight,” I tell him. “I’m not usually like this. It’s just… there’s a lot going on.”

“I see that,” he answers quietly. “Is there anything I can do?”

You can call me Calla-Lily again. Because it seems intimate and familiar, and it makes me feel good. But I shake my head. “I wish. But no.”

He smiles. “Ok. Can I walk you back up to the house at least?”

My heart leaps for a second, but the idea of facing Finn right now isn’t one I enjoy. So I shake my head.

“I’m not really ready to go back yet,” I tell him regretfully. Because it’s the truth.

He shrugs. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

My heart thunders in my ears as I pretend that I’m not thrilled with that.

“Have you heard the myth of the Gemini?” he asks. “Castor and Pollux were twins, and when Castor died, Pollux was so devastated that he asked Zeus if he could share his immortality with his brother. Zeus turned them into stars, and now they live forever as a constellation. We can’t see it right now, so you’ll have to trust me.”

“Are you telling me this because I’m a twin?” I ask, my eyebrow lifted. He shrugs.

“Not really. I can tell just by looking at you and your brother that you’d do anything for each other. I’d expect nothing less out of you than to become a star for him.”

He smiles and I shake my head because he has no idea what I might’ve done for my brother, and actually, as each day passes, I have no idea what I might have done for him. I might have dreamed it all up, imagined it, and now it’s not relevant.

We fall into silence and sit in the sand, so close that I can feel the warmth emanating from his body, so close that whenever he moves, his shoulder brushes mine. I shouldn’t get so much pleasure from that, from the accidental touches, from his warmth.

But I do.

We sit in such a way for an hour.

In silence.

Staring at the ocean and the sky and the stars.

No one has ever felt comfortable like this to me before, with silence that isn’t awkward. No one but Finn. Until now.

“Did you know that the Italian serial killer Leonarda Cianciulli was famous for turning her victims into tea cakes and serving them to guests?” I ask absently, still staring out at the water.

Dare doesn’t miss a beat. “No. Because that’s an odd thing to know.”

I feel the laughter bubbling up in me, threatening to erupt.

“I agree. It is.” It’s something my brother shared with me yesterday.

Dare smiles. “I’ll be sure to work that in at the next party I attend.”

I can’t help but smile now. “I’m sure it’ll go over well.”

He chuckles. “Well, it’s a conversation starter, for sure.”

I don’t move because I sort of want to stay here forever, even though the dampness of the sand has leached into my jeans and now my butt is wet.

But even though I don’t want this to end, the darkness is so black now that it swallows us up. It’s getting late.

I sigh.

“I’ve got to go back.”

“Okay,” Dare answers, his voice low in the night, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think I detected regret in it. Maybe he wants to stay here longer, too.

He helps me to my feet, and then keeps his hand on my elbow as we walk over the driftwood and through the tidal pools and up the trail. It’s that thing that real men do, the guiding a woman across the room thing. It’s gentlemanly and chivalrous and my ovaries might explode from it because it’s intimate and familiar and sexy.

When we get to the house, he removes his hand and I immediately feel the absence of his warmth.

He looks down at me, a thousand things in his eyes that I can’t define but want to.

“Good night, Calla. I hope you feel better now.”

“I do,” I murmur.

And as I pad up the stairs, I realize that I actually do.

For the first time in weeks.

I dream about him again, and he’s so familiar and warm, his dark eyes sparkling as he looks into mine. “You’re better than I deserve,” he tells me, and that startles me, because I think it’s quite the opposite. I tell him so and he smiles knowingly, as though I’m wrong and I’ll realize it. When I wake up, I still feel warm.

As the weeks go by, I feel better and better, even if my brother seems to feel worse.

Each day he sinks deeper, and I grow more and more helpless because I don’t know how to reach him.

“Come with Dare and I to see the Iredale,” I plead with him one rainy morning. Finn looks out the window, finally lifting his nose from his journal.

“No thanks,” he says woodenly. “I’m not into being a third wheel.”

“You aren’t,” I tell him, but he won’t listen and I go with Dare alone.

“The Iredale ran aground in 1906,” I explain to him as we walk down the beach, to where the remains of the old wreck rise out of the mist. Its weathered bones look at once ghostly and impressive, skeletal and freaky. “No one died, thank goodness. They waited for weeks for the weather to clear enough to tow her back out to sea, but she got so entrenched in the sand, that they couldn’t. She’s been in this spot ever since.”

We’re standing in front of her now, her masts and ribs poking out from the sand and arching toward the sky. Dare reaches out and runs a hand along one of her ribs, calm and reverent.

I swallow hard.

“It’s a rite of passage around here,” I tell him. “To skip school and come out here with your friends.”

Except I never had any friends, other than Finn.

“So you and Finn came here a lot?” Dare asks, as though he read my mind, and his question isn’t condescending, he’s just curious.

I nod. “Yeah. We like to stop and get coffee and come sit. It’s a good way to kill the time.”

“So show me,” Dare says quietly, taking my hand and pulling me inside the sparse shell. We sit on the damp sand, and stare through the corpse of the ship toward the ocean, where the waves rise and fall and the seagulls fly in loops.

“This must’ve been a good place to grow up,” Dare muses as he takes in the horizon.

I nod. “Yeah. I can’t complain. Fresh air, open water… I guess it could only have been better if I didn’t live in a funeral home.”

I laugh at that, but Dare looks at me sharply.

“Was it really hard?” he asks, half concerned, half curious.

I pause. Because was it? Was it the fact that I lived in a funeral home that made my life hard, or the fact that my brother was crazy and so we were ostracized?

I shrug. “I don’t know. I think it was everything combined.”

Dare nods, accepting that, because sometimes that’s how life is. A puzzle made up of a million pieces, and when one piece doesn’t exactly fit, it throws the rest of them off.

“Have you ever thought of moving away?” he asks after a few minutes. “I mean, especially now, I think maybe getting a break from…death might be healthy.”

I swallow hard because obviously, over the years, that’s been a recurring fantasy of mine. To live somewhere else, far from a funeral home. But there’s Finn, and so of course I would have never left here before. And now there’s college and my brother wants to go alone.

“I’m going away to college in the Fall,” I remind him, not mentioning anything else.

“Ah, that’s right,” he says, leaning back in the sand, his back pressed against a splintered rib. “Do you feel up to it? After everything, I mean.”

After your mom died, he means.

“I have to be up to it,” I tell him. “Life doesn’t stop because someone dies. That’s something that living in a funeral home has taught me.” And having my mother die and the world kept turning.

He nods again. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. But sometimes, we wish it could. I mean, I know I did. It didn’t seem fair that my mom was just gone, and everyone kept acting like nothing had changed. The stores kept their doors open and selling trivial things, airplanes kept flying, boats kept sailing… it was like I was the only one who cared that the world lost an amazing person.” His vulnerability is showing, and it touches me deep down, in a place I didn’t know I had.

I turn to him, willing to share something, too. It’s only fair. You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.

“I was mad at old people for a while,” I admit sheepishly. “I know it’s stupid, but whenever I would see an elderly person out and about with their walker and oxygen tank, I was furious that Death didn’t decide to take them instead of my mom.”

Dare smiles, a grin that lights up the beach.

“I see the reasoning behind that,” he tells me. “It’s not stupid. Your mom was too young. And they say anger is one of the stages of grief.”

“But not anger at random old people,” I point out with a barky laugh.

Dare laughs with me and it feels really good, because he’s not laughing at me, he’s laughing with me, and there’s a difference.

“This feels good,” I admit finally, playing with the sand in front of me. Dare glances at me.

“I think you need to get off that mountain more,” he decides. “For real. Being secluded in a funeral home? That’s not healthy, Calla.”

I suddenly feel defensive. “I’m not secluded,” I point out. “I have Finn and my dad. And now you’re there, too.”

Dare blinks. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“And we’re not in the funeral home right now,” I also point out. We take a pause and gaze out at the vast, endless ocean because the huge grayness of it is inspiring at the same time that it makes me feel small.

“You’re right,” Dare concedes. “We’re not.” He pulls his finger through the sand, drawing a line, then intersecting it with another. “We should do this more often.”

Those last words impale me and I freeze.

Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

“You want to come to the beach more often?” I ask hesitantly. Dare smiles.

“No, I’m saying we should get out more often. Together.”

That’s what I thought he was saying.

My heart pounds and I nod. “Sure. That’d be fine. Do you care if Finn comes sometimes, too?” Because I feel too guilty to leave him behind all the time.

Dare nods. “Of course not. I want to spend time with you, however you want to give it to me.”

Dare grins at me, that freaking Dare Me grin, and I know I’m a goner. I’m falling for him, more every day, and there’s nothing I can do about it. In fact, there’s nothing I want to do about it. Because it’s amazing.

The Iredale is only a shell of a ship, so the wind whips at us and Dare shoves his hair out of his face. As he does, his ring shimmers with the muted light of the sun. A sudden feeling of déjà vu overwhelms me, as though I’ve watched his ring glint in the sun before, and we’ve been here in this ship, together.

We’ve been here before in this exact place and time.

It’s not possible

It’s not possible

But it is.

It has to be.

Because I feel it.

That’s all I can think as I stare at him, as I watch his ring shimmering in the light, as I watch him shake his hair in the wind.

Dare drops his hand and the feeling fades, yet the remains of it linger like the wispy fingers of a memory or a dream.

I stare at him uncertainly, because the feeling was so overpowering, and because I know what he’s going to say next. I know it.

Are you ok?

I wait hesitantly to see.

Dare draws back and stares at me. “Are you ok?”

I nod, because Oh my God, I was right. I try to breathe, and try to remind myself that God, it’s just déjà vu, Calla. It happens. But it’s been happening a lot, to me and to Finn.

And it felt so real. I shake my head, to shake the oddness away. I can’t slip away from reality, I can’t be like Finn. God.

Dare’s hand covers my own, and we stare out at the ocean for several minutes more.

His hand is warm and strong, and I relish it, and I push away all disturbing thoughts because honestly nothing matters right now but this.

I relish the way Dare rests his hand against my back as we walk down the beach toward his bike. And I relish the way I fold against him as we ride back home. I relish it all because it’s amazing. No matter what else is going on, this is amazing.

I feel like I’m floating as I slide off the bike and stand in front of him.

We pause, like neither of us wants to call an end to this day.

Finally, Dare smiles, a slow grin, a real grin that crinkles the corners of his dark Dare Me eyes. He reaches up and tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear, and I swear to God I have to force myself to not lean into that hand.

“I’ll see you soon, Calla-Lily,” he promises huskily. I nod, and watch him turn and walk away.

God, he looks good walking away.

He pauses, and turns, and I think he must’ve read my thoughts.

“Calla?”

“Yes?”

“Do you believe in fate?’

I smile, because what a silly question. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I do.”

I’m filled with warmth and I float up to my room.

Chapter Twenty

When I wake the following morning, the first thing I notice is piano music.

Since I know there isn’t a funeral today, this is very odd. My mother was the only one who knew how to play in our family.

I crawl out of bed and pad down the stairs, inching into the chapel, not sure what I expect to see. But nothing I expect prepares me for what it is.

Dare sits at the piano in the front, the sunshine pouring in from the windows above and reflecting off of his dark hair, like he’s been chosen by God Himself. His eyes closed in concentration, he plays as if the music flows through him like blood or air, like he has to play to live.

I lean against the door, watching his hands span the keys, urging the music from them, with all the grace of an accomplished pianist. I don’t recognize the song, but it’s beautiful and haunting and sad.

It’s just right for this place.

And even though Dare is wearing dark jeans and a snug black shirt and that trendy silver ring on his middle finger, he’s right for this place too.

Because he’s playing the piano as it should be played.

With reverence.

Here in this chapel, it’s only right to revere our surroundings, the quiet peacefulness of a room used to honor the dead.

I close my eyes for a minute, unable to stop myself from imagining what it would be like if his hands worshipped my body in the same way as they worship the keys. My dreams have been like foreplay, because every night, he touches me. He claims my body as his own, and every night, I enjoy it. Right now, I recall those dreams, and my cheeks flush as I picture his fingers trailing over my hip, up my abdomen, pausing at my breasts. My lips tingle from wanting his kiss. My breath hitches, my tongue darts out, licking at my lips, my face slightly feverish.

It’s only now that I realize the music has stopped.

I open my eyes and find Dare turned toward me, watching me. There is amusement in his eyes, like he knows exactly what I’d been daydreaming.

If ever there was a time to wish the floor would open up and swallow me, it is now.

“Hi,” he offers. “I hope I didn’t wake you. Your dad said I could come in and grab some orange juice. I saw the piano and…well, I intruded. I’m sorry.”

His accent makes everything ok. And the fact that he plays the piano. More than ok, in fact, it might make him the sexiest man alive.

“You’re not an intrusion,” I tell him. Or if he is, he’s a welcome one. “You play beautifully.”

He shrugs. “It was one of my step-father’s rules. Everyone in his family had to learn to play because that’s what refined people do.” He looks bored with the sentiment and closes the lid to the keys.

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you? Refined, I mean.”

He smiles. “I’m a bit of a rogue, I’m afraid.”

I’m not. Afraid, that is.

“Your dad said to tell you that he had to run into town,” he offers as he gets up and lithely moves toward me. I can’t help but draw a parallel… between Dare and a graceful jungle cat. Long, lithe, slender, strong. He and I are connected by an invisible band, and he flexes that band as he strides down the aisle of the chapel before he stops in front of me like a panther.

Am I his prey?

God, I hope so.

In the light, his eyes are golden, and I find I can’t look away.

“Thanks,” I tell him. “I bet my brother went with him.” I don’t mention that my brother slept in my bed last night, because that would seem weird. Like always, I have to hide certain things for appearances’ sake.

“I don’t know about that,” Dare answers. “I haven’t seen Finn today.”

“He must’ve,” I murmur. In fact, my father probably took Finn in to his Group. I’m free to focus on what is standing in front of me.

Dare DuBray.

His smile gleams.

“I have another question to ask you,” he tells me, with a certain smug look settling on his lips. I raise an eyebrow.

“What, already? You just asked one days ago.”

He chuckles. “Yep. But not here. I want to ask it somewhere else.”

I wait.

And wait.

“And that is…where?” I finally ask.

He smiles. “Out on the water.”

I pause. “On the water? Like, on our boat?”

He nods. “Is that ok?”

Of course it is.

“It’s just a little boat,” I warn him. “Nothing fancy.”

“That’s perfect,” he answers. “Because I’m nothing fancy, either.”

Au contraire. But of course I don’t say that. And it’s a good thing I slept in my clothes because this way, we can go straight there without pause. But of course I don’t say that either.

Instead, I simply lead the way outdoors and to the beach, not hesitating in the rain.

“We can still go,” I tell him. “It’s just a little rain, the waves aren’t bad.”

“I’m not worried,” he grins. “I’m used to rain.”

“That’s right,” I answer as I motion for him to climb aboard. “I forgot.”

He steps across and I untie the boat from the dock, before I toss the rope to him. I leap before the boat can float away, and land unceremoniously beside him.

He lounges against the hull as I steer through the bay, and suddenly, the rain stops as suddenly as it started. The clouds part, the sun shines down upon us and I lift my face to the warmth.

I live for times like these, when my grief pauses long enough for me to enjoy something.

And I have to admit, I’ve been enjoying more and more moments since Dare came to my mountain.

“You make me feel guilty,” I tell him quietly, opening my eyes. He’s sprawled out, his legs propped up on a seat. He glances at me, his forehead furrowed.

“Why in the world is that, Calla-lily?”

The name makes me smile.

“Because you make me forget that I’m sad,” I say simply.

Softness wavers in Dare’s eyes for a minute before they turn back into obsidian. “That shouldn’t make you feel guilty,” he tells me. “In fact, that makes me happy. I don’t like the idea of you being sad. Come sit by me.”

He opens his arms and I sit on the seat next to him, leaning against his hard chest and into his beating heart. His arms close around me and for the first time in my life, I’m lounging in a guy’s embrace. And not just any guy. Dare DuBray, who I’m guessing could have any girl he wants.

And right now, in this moment, he wants me.

It’s unfathomable.

It’s the perfect temperature as we drift in the sun, as the warmth saturates my shirt and soaks into my skin. I drag one hand over the side, letting it float on the surface of the water as I listen to Dare’s heart.

It’s strong and loud against my ear.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The rhythmic sound reminds me of the day he was punching the shed.

I pause, then freeze, my fingers on his chest.

What day was that?

I focus and focus, trying to recall the memory through foggy haze, but all I get is an image of Dare punching at the woodshed like a machete, or a machine.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, staring down at me.

“I…” I don’t know what to say.

“Sometimes, I have memories that don’t seem real,” I finally admit, not caring how it makes me look.

He stares at me for the longest time, his gaze so deep and penetrating. “How do you know they aren’t real?” he finally answers.

I cackle a hyena-like laugh. “Because they can’t be. If you could see my memories, you’d understand why.”

“I’m in your memories, right?” Dare asks, and each word is sharp.

“Yeah,” I answer. “Usually.”

He starts to answer, but I interrupt him, because he has taken off his shirt and his skin is getting a bit red.

“You’re going to get skin cancer,” I stare at him.

“I’m not,” he answers. I don’t argue because I like his bare chest, and the way the muscles ripple across his shoulders as he moves. I pause on my way to the helm, long enough to run my fingers over the letters of his tattoo. His skin is hot beneath my fingertips, and the friction makes me grit my teeth.

“I’m going to show you someplace new,” I tell him, guiding the boat out of the bay and toward a small rock pier down the beach. It only takes ten minutes to get there, and I urge the boat aground so that we can step out onto land.

I hold my hand out to Dare and he takes it, climbing down next to me. We walk all the way out to the tip of the land finger, where the fingernail would be.

Dare sits, and I sit next to him, our feet splayed out in front of us on the rocks.

We’re surrounded by nothing but the air and water, we’re utterly alone out here, with no one to overhear or watch us like we’re fish in a bowl.

The salty breeze blows Dare’s hair around his face and I turn to him.

“I’m ready to use another question,” I tell him. He grins.

“So soon? It’s only been days since the last one.”

I ignore that. “Why are you such a gentleman?”

Meaning, why are you so resolute to keep your distance until I figure my shit out?

He shifts his weight and crosses his feet at the ankles. “So you’ve noticed.”

His tone is wry. I roll my eyes.

“Seriously. Why are you trying to force me into doing something for my own good that I don’t want to do? All for the sake of being a gentleman? Maybe being a gentleman is overrated and archaic.”

He scoffs at that, shielding his eyes from the sun with long fingers of one hand. I stare at his silver ring glinting in the light.

“It’s not, trust me.” The way he says that is so knowing, so strange.

I raise an eyebrow and he sighs.

“My step-father, while refined and rich, was not a gentleman behind closed doors. From the time I was very small, I decided that I would always be the opposite of him. I used to read my mother’s journals, because that’s all I had left of her, and she always spoke of wanting me to be a gentleman when I grew up. She spoke of those traits with such…reverence that I knew that’s what I wanted to be.” He pauses. “Are you going to make fun of me now?”

He stares at me, his jaw so sculpted, his eyes so guarded. I find all I want to do is reach out and stroke the coarseness of his stubble with my hand. “No,” I tell him. “Not at all. Why did you have to read your mother’s journals?”

“Because she died when I was small.”

God, he has made that hidden part of me ache, the maternal place, the place that wants to protect him from everything, even if that means from me.

“What did your step-father do?”

My question is quiet in its simplicity and Dare sighs again.

“You’re really burning through your questions today.”

I nod, but I don’t back down.

“My stepfather was unfortunately, very much like his mother. A very calculating, controlling person. He had to have everything his way exactly and those people who didn’t comply were punished severely.”

I swallow hard at the closed look on Dare’s beautiful face.

“How severely?”

He turns to look at me, his black eyes staring into my soul.

“Severely.”

My heart twinges at the vulnerable pain in Dare’s eyes. He thinks he’s concealing it, but he’s not. “And being the rogue that you are, I’m guessing you were punished a lot.”

He nods and looks out at the sea and I pick up his hand, spinning his ring round and round.

“And no one interfered? Not your grandmother?”

He looks at me now, stricken. “She wouldn’t interfere. She never approved of me. She thinks I deserved everything I got and then some.”

The feel of this conversation is dark and ominous and scary. I examine his face, the planes and angles, and grip his hand harder. “Well, now that your mom is gone, you’re done with your step-father’s family. Thank goodness. You’re here in America and they can’t hurt you anymore.”

He sighs, a ragged sound, his slender fingers weaving around my own. “Can’t they?”

I start to answer and he interrupts. “You’ve burned through most of your questions, Cal. It seems to me like you’ve only got a couple left.”

I nod, because he’s right. “I’ve only got one more to ask today, and then I’ll save my last one for later.”

Nerves cause my heart to pound, adrenaline to rush, rush, rush through my veins as I look at him, the Adonis sitting next to me. Do it. Do it. Everything about him touches me… his voice, his story, his vulnerability that he tries so hard to hide. All of it. I want him. All of him.

“You’ve been such a gentleman,” I start, before I lose my nerve. “And it’s sexy as hell, I’ll admit. You’re sexy. And beautiful. And I want to be close to you, Dare. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

Dare swallows. I see his throat move, I see him grip his leg with long fingers.

“And?” he asks hesitantly. “What is your question?”

He swallows again.

“Be with me,” I urge him. “Today. Right now. Out here where it’s only the two of us. Please.”

Dare closes his eyes, and his face is bathed by the sun.

“That’s not a question,” he states softly. But his hands are gripping his legs so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

I move over, close, close, closer. Until my thigh is pressed against his, and I unclasp his fingers from his thighs. Leaning over our intertwined hands, I kiss his neck, beginning at the base, slowly and softly working my way up to his ear.

“Will you be with me? Today?” I whisper in his ear. With my last raspy word, I release his hand and slide mine along his inner thigh. I feel him harden beneath my fingers, pulsing through his jeans.

He closes his eyes and I tighten my fingers, increasing my grip.

“Don’t,” he whispers. His voice husky and so sexy.

“That’s not an answer,” I tell him, stroking him through the denim. A surge of feminine power shoots through me, lifting me up, propelling me onward, until my own hormones explode and cloud my thoughts.