Losing Me, Finding You(31)

Snatches of voices come to me then, the sound of a door opening and the creak of wood. My eyes snap open and my head drops back. There's somebody on the balcony above us.

“Austin,” I whisper, but he cuts me off by pressing his mouth to mine, drowning me in the experience. My second time having sex is even better than my first, not as painful, twice as pleasurable. The sweaty, warm grinding that's going on down below is making me shudder, making me wish I'd tried it a whole lot sooner. I'm so wet, moist and slick, ready for Austin's violent thrusts. Pull my hair again, I think, wishing he'd wrap it in his fist and jerk me back, hold me hostage while he ravaged me between the thighs.

Oh yes, I think. So much better than Crandle Rogers.

I lock my ankles around his waist, thanking God above for giving me long, lean calves that can actually manage (barely) to make it around Austin's muscular midsection. I grab the upper edge of Austin's jeans and slide my fingers under, feeling hot, sweaty flesh and contracting muscles. Kidnap me and take me away. Throw me across the back of your bike and show me what it feels like to have the wind in your face and the sun on your skin, day in and day out. If it's anything at all like this then it must be heaven on earth.

I gather my thoughts carefully and mimic a move I've read about but never had the chance to try, putting my hand between us, so I can rub my clit with my fingers. The pleasure that hits me is indescribable, taking the slippery, sliding rush of agony between my thighs and turning it on its head, making me bite back a scream and forcing me to let go.

I fall back, caught only by Austin's arms as I orgasm right there on a stranger's well kept patio set.

Panting, Austin and I separate, and he slides out of me with a groan, picking off his condom and flicking it into a nearby dumpster without a word. I watch him as he zips up his pants and puts his hands on his hips, shaking his head like he doesn't know what to think.

“What am I gonna do with you, sugar?” he asks me, but I don't respond. Instead, I stand up and adjust my panties, surprised at the amount of moistness that gets on my fingers. Is that all mine?

“I've gotta go.” My voice comes out in a whisper that barely cuts across the noise of the afternoon. Austin turns to look at me, running a hand through his sandy hair.

“To your weddin'?” he asks in his mysterious Southern accent, one that sounds like it's made up from bits and pieces of different states, different counties, different towns. It's real pretty though, a voice that could lull you to sleep at night and wake you up bright and early in the morning. I love it.

“Pardon me?” I ask, wishing I had my purse, so I could clutch it to my chest like a shield. I feel naked standing there in my strapless dress with my underwear soaking wet and my body pulsing with heat and fire. Austin rubs his stubbly chin for a moment.

“You said you had to get back to a wedding.”

“My cousin's,” I say softly, not wanting him to think that I'm getting married. I'm not that kind of girl. I should be, but I'm not. Apparently, I'm the kind of girl who f*cks bikers. “They're going to be worried,” I say as I start to move past Austin, both anxious and hopeful that he's going to reach out and grab me, throw me over the fence and screw me again. “I've got to go.”

He doesn't stop me.

I hear Austin growl as I move past him, but I don't stop. I run and I don't stop running, but I have no idea what it is that I'm running away from.



Chapter 25

When I get back to the church, I sneak into the building through the side entrance and hide behind an overly large vase of faux flowers. Jodie's allergic to the real things. Quiet murmurs and whispers travel over to me, making me wonder what's going. The crowd is still here, dressed in their modest skirts and blouses, their dark suit jackets and khaki pants, but it doesn't seem like anything's happened yet. Oh God, I pray. I hope they're not waiting for me. I start to sidle down the aisle towards the back when I spot Christy sitting in the middle row with her cell phone clutched in one hand and the other clamped across her mouth.

I tiptoe out from behind the flowers and pretend I don't notice the way everyone's eyes are catching on me. Do I look different? I wonder, remembering absently that my hair is a wild mess and my body is jumping with energy, humming a tune I've never heard and making me wish I had nothing better to do than lay beneath Austin for the rest of the afternoon.

I sit down next to Christy and ignore the rush of conversation that's just followed me in here. I'm not used to being stared at like this. In fact, oftentimes I think the entire congregation forgets I exist.

Christy's blue eyes snap up to mine and freeze there.

“Are you okay?” I ask her, noticing the slight swell of tears. I try to reach out, so I can touch Christy's hand, but she pulls away like I'm diseased, like she can't bear the thought of my skin on hers.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” she asks, and I cock my head to the side. Is there? Of course there is. But I can't. Not yet. I have to figure out where you stand first. Besides, if I'm right then I think you're keeping something from me, too. That makes us even.

“No, why?” I ask her as she narrows her eyes and leans in close, keeping my attention on her and away from the glares and the pointed fingers. What the heck is going on?

“Last chance, Amy,” she says, sniffling and scooting even further away from me. “No secrets, no lies.” I shake my head.