The Bourbon Thief(52)

Oh, but not Tamara. Not his Tamara. She’d somehow made marriage her teenage rebellion. What other rebellions did his rotten girl have in her?

Levi went up on his hands again. He thrust into her harder than he should, but she took him. In the dark he could see the outline of her body, her breasts moving with each thrust, her head back and her hands clutching at his arms, clinging to him, panting and moaning with each thrust. She wanted this as much as he did. More maybe, since she’d never had it before, and because she was seventeen, and when he’d been that age, he would have died without sex and considered it the gift of life when a girl gave it to him. So he gave it to Tamara because she needed it, and even though there were a thousand good reasons they shouldn’t be doing this, none were good enough to stop them.

Knowing he couldn’t last much longer, Levi braced himself on one arm and touched her where they joined. He wanted to feel it while it happened, feel it on his fingers, feel how soft she was against his hardness. He found her clitoris swollen and throbbing, and he stroked it as he rode her, focusing all his attention on the one goal of making her come during her first time. He had to. His self-respect depended on it. The more he rubbed her, the tighter she contracted around him and the harder she breathed and the more she whimpered and moaned and writhed. Her fingers gripped the sheets so hard he thought they’d tear and her hips rose so high off the bed she almost lifted him with her.

They were there. Together. Everything stopped, frozen, tense, taut as an equilibrist’s high wire. And they balanced there on the edge, holding on, not blinking, not seeing, too tight to breathe as they pushed, pushed and pushed into each other until the pressure became unbearable, utterly, utterly unbearable...

...and then it was everything all at once. Tamara cried out. Her head fell back. Her inner muscles fluttered and shuddered all around him as he came, pouring into her as they crashed against each other, out of control, erupting with a thousand little explosions along every nerve in their bodies.

Then it was over. Nothing left but the aftershocks, the catching of breaths, the separation and inevitable contemplation of what the hell just happened.

Levi wrapped Tamara in his arms and rolled them together so he lay on his back and she lay on him, her head on his chest, her legs on his legs. It was real now. They were husband and wife. She’d lost her virginity to him. And he’d lost something, too, although he wasn’t sure what it was, only that he wouldn’t be getting it back. He doubted he’d miss it.

“So that’s what it’s supposed to be,” Tamara said, and he felt her chest moving against his in laughter. Sweat dripped off her forehead onto his shoulder and his semen dripped out of her and onto his thighs.

It was an odd thing to say, but he’d heard odder after sex. Levi stroked her hair, stroked her back, held her close.

“That’s what it’s supposed to be.” He tried to sound as mature as his years, and he thought he pulled it off. He’d never had sex that felt like that before, like they were the same person, same body and blood. It scared him. He didn’t like it and yet he wanted more. Having sex with Tamara was like getting high and sobering up all in the same moment. He shivered in the night air like a man with the DTs and pretended the night air caused it.

“Are you scared?” she asked. She must have felt him shaking.

“Terrified. You’re an animal. Hold me.”

Tamara laughed, a human sound, normal. He took a deep shuddering breath and willed his heart to settle down, but it wouldn’t obey. He felt like he’d awoken from a night terror—drenched in sweat, blood racing, and fear, wild irrational fear. As a boy he’d had night terrors, but he hadn’t had one in years, and never while awake. No matter how much he told himself it was fine, he was fine, on and on his heart ran as if it wanted to flee his own body.

“I shouldn’t have come in you,” he said, finding the source of his fear. “I wanted to stop but couldn’t. You’re on the pill, right?”

Tamara rolled over onto her side away from him.

“No.”





18

As soon as she said it, Tamara knew she’d said the wrong thing. She should have lied, but she couldn’t do it, not after what he’d done to her. Not after he’d made her feel like that.

“No?” Levi repeated. “No? You let me fuck you and—”

“We’re married. We’re supposed to do this.”

“You’re seventeen years old, and I don’t want a baby with you.”

She felt the bed shift and she turned over in time to see Levi yanking his jeans on.

“What do you mean you don’t want a baby with me?”

“I don’t want kids. Kids trap you.”

“I’m not trying to trap you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you aren’t on the pill?”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“You didn’t think it mattered? Didn’t matter? This isn’t a real marriage, Tamara. You remember that? You remember why we’re doing this? I help you get the company from your mother. I get my horse farm. You remember that conversation?”

“Not a real marriage?” She pulled the blanket up to her neck as Levi struck a match and lit the lantern. She wished he hadn’t done that. Now she could see his face and she’d never seen him this angry. “We—”