Split(90)

Things are light between us, no talks about Gage or my past, not a mention of the murders. Thunder crackles overhead and we get the first few drops of rain as we hit the creek.

We hold hands as we maneuver the rustic-log bridge, and what started as drizzle quickly turns to a downpour. Her laughter permeates the air along with the powerful scent of pine and rain as we race to the front door.

Buddy barks at us from his spot beneath the porch, and Shy gives him a quick rub before pulling me to the door. She grins up at me, breathing heavy, her black hair wet and beads of rain on her eyelashes. “That came out of nowhere.”

I open the door for her to go inside, but she stands for a few silent seconds before making a move to cross the threshold.

“If this is uncomfortable . . .” I rub the back of my neck, hating the words I’m about to say. “You don’t have to stay.”

She steps to me and pushes up on her tiptoes to press her lips against mine. Salt from her skin mixes with the cool rain and I lick my lips to absorb every drop.

Her eyes track from my lips to my neck, then dip to my chest. “You’re drenched.”

“So are you,” I whisper, and don’t know why, but it’s like the volume has been turned down on everything but my pounding heart.

She dips her hands beneath my T-shirt and I lift my arms as she slides it up my body and over my head. Her gaze moves across my shoulders, my chest, and lower until her hands hook into my jeans. She fumbles with my belt but manages to get it open along with my button fly. I’m so hard, so ready for her that my erection strains the fabric of my boxers.

Her jaw falls open and her chest rises and falls erratically as she stares openly between my legs. Unable to control my need for her, I cup her jaw, tilting her head up, and crash my mouth to hers. I suck at her lips that taste of rainwater and only leave me thirsty for more. There’s no gentle teasing, no silent requests for entrance. Our tongues lash violently together as if we’d finally let go of all restraint. I walk her back, moving deeper into the house while pulling at her sweater, pushing it up over her breasts while she struggles to free her arms, only then breaking the kiss long enough to pull it from her head.

My eyes burn to stare, to study her in nothing but jeans and a bra, but the competition of her mouth is too much. Later. I’ll take time to worship every swell and dip of her body, learning her sounds and committing them to memory, but not now.

I pull at the straps of her bra, wanting the thing off but not having the slightest clue how to do it. She giggles against my lips at my clumsy attempt and I push her back against the wall in the hallway. “I wish I was better at this.” My forehead presses to hers while she easily releases the clasp and it falls to the floor.

She hooks the elastic of my boxers with her fingers and brings my hips to hers. The heat of her bare chest hits mine. “You’re better than you think.”

The sensation of her warmth against me makes the urge to explode impossible to ignore. I’m shivering with excitement, raw desire, and a hint of nerves. I bend, cup her bottom, and easily lift her into my arms. Her legs wrap tightly around my waist and her heat grinds against my erection.

“Mmm . . . you feel so good.”

Her tongue licks along my neck, the wet slide against my scar making me jerk behind my boxers.

I carry her into my room with uncoordinated steps and gently lay her down on the bed. There’s a brief moment of insecurity, of what she might think of my stark room, the bare twin mattress with cheap sheets and sleeping bag blanket, but all that fear quickly evaporates when her hand grips me over the cotton of my boxers.

“Is this . . . really happening?” I pant against her neck, and she slides her hand beneath the elastic and wraps her fist around me. “Oh . . .” I moan, and she bows on the bed in a way that makes me lose my breath.

“Yes, but only if you want it to.”

I reach down and cup her between her legs like she taught me earlier, running my fingers roughly over her until she’s groaning in frustration.

“I want to feel you.” She releases me to pop the button of her jeans and I hop off the bed to remove her boots, socks, and finally her jeans and panties until she’s completely bared to me.

The visual hits me like an erotic assault and I step back in admiration. I record the moment to memory, hammering it into my head while swearing to myself that if Gage robs me of this with her, I’ll never forgive him.

She props herself up on her elbows and my gaze follows the weight of her breasts, and the dark pebbled nipples that beg for my mouth. “Lucas?”

My eyes dart to hers and she relaxes a little. Maybe she’s just as nervous about Gage stealing this as I am.

“I don’t have a condom.” Never really had any need for one before now.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to have sex.”

My jaw drops open and I slam it shut, hoping she doesn’t notice.

She laughs and holds her hand out. “Okay, maybe we do.”

I can’t trust my body with Shyann’s unless I know I can keep her safe. If I were able to communicate with Gage, I could ask him if he has a stash hidden somewhere— Oh!

“Wait!” I hold up a hand and race to the bathroom, searching through drawers until—aha! A single square of foil.

Thank you, Gage!

Back in the room, I find Shy lying on her side, her black hair scattered around my pillow, and the feminine swells of her form calling for mine.