With This Heart(80)

[page]CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO





BECK



I couldn’t believe she was finally back. The awkward, beautiful, unathletic girl that stole my heart when I was trying to steal hers. She looked so innocent perched up on my kitchen counter. I couldn’t keep my distance from her. On some level I thought I should play it cool, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. She’d kicked my ass last year when she told me to leave. I’d fought with her about it for a week, and when she brought it up again the day before I was scheduled to leave, I couldn’t handle it. There’s only so much a guy’s ego can handle, and she crushed mine under her tiny frame as if I was wearing my heart on my sleeve.

Who knows, maybe I was.

I can’t help it around her .

Her jade green eyes swam with desire as my hands drifted up over her slim stomach. I tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it onto the kitchen floor behind me. The sexy moan she didn’t think I could hear told me how much she approved of each action.

“ Abby…”

I stood back and stared at her for a moment, taking in her breasts hidden beneath a pink bra. I bent low and scooped her golden hair behind her shoulders so that I’d have better access to her chest. Her beautifully imperfect scar sat just where it had the last time I’d had a chance to be with her. I traced my fingers and lips along her collarbone, down the center of her ribcage, and around her scar in a testament to her innocent sexiness. That was the thing about Abby. She had no f*cking clue what she did to me. She thought her Keds and girl-next-door style kept her safe, but in reality it just begged me to tease her more.

It drove me wild to see a side of her that no one else had the chance to witness.

“ I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured as my lips pressed against the small swell of her breast, just beneath her scar. Her words could undo me like no one else’s. To know that she was here, healthy, and happy…I shoved the thought away and pulled her close to me. My hands wrapped around her hair as I forced her lips to mine. There were too many layers left between us. She was clinging to my shirt as my hands unclasped her bra. I needed her here and now. Our movements were urgent and hurried. Nails on skin, hands tugging off clothing. She was breathing hard and I could see her chest rising and falling in a quick rhythm.

With one hand I pulled my shirt off as my other wrapped around her as soon as the shirt was gone. She was so small in my arms, but she felt exactly like I’d remembered.

“ Beck, not on the counter,” she murmured, her lips dancing across my ear when she moved her mouth. “I feel like a knife is going to stab me in the butt or something.” Her sentence started out lusty, but by the end I couldn’t help but laugh. We both fell into hysterics and I lifted her up and away from any sharp utensils.

“ Your choice: the bed or the futon.” Our lips were pressed together and I could feel her smile against my mouth.

“ You would have a futon.”


My head tilted back far enough that I could look down at her.

Her smile was still there, just like mine had been since I saw that sign on the table in the union    . I’d resigned myself to the fact that we were over. I thought she saw me as a summer fling, a guy to take her mind off the sadness surrounding those few weeks.

“ How about against the wall?” she asked, pulling me out of my reverie. Her words were quiet and unsure, adding to her allure.

My feet started shuffling us backwards. “Like we almost did that first time?” I asked. I pressed her back against the wall and angled her so that our bodies met perfectly with her legs straddled around me. She was warmth, the type of warmth you had to earn. The type of warmth that sears your skin so that for as long as you live, your body remembers what it was like to be close to her, to be buried inside of her.

“ Or the time in Marfa,” she mentioned, her jade green eyes clouding over with lust. I peeled my eyes down her pearly white skin. She was so soft and flushed with arousal, it was hard to decide if the appeal of making love to her against the wall was better than taking our time on my bed. Maybe we’d do that afterward.

“ Tell me you love me, Abby,” I demanded, kissing under her chin and down her neck. She arched away from the wall, pressing her skin against my lips for more. My mouth pressed against the chain of her locket and I smiled at the memory of the flea market.

“ Beck,” she began to answer, but I pulled one of my hands away from her hip to open the locket. I wanted to see if she’d replaced the old couple inside. The tiny hinge was hard to open, but she didn’t rush me. The rising and falling of her chest pressed against my hand as I pulled the tinted metal open.

My body stilled.

Tucked inside were two pieces of paper; one on either side. The first had my name, written small and in cursive. The other held a small outline of Texas with tiny hearts over specific areas. She’d drawn a thin red line to connect the hearts. It was hard to see when it was drawn so small, but I tugged it closer to my face and then grinned when I realized what I was looking at.

Each heart was drawn over a city we’d visited a year ago.

She’d mapped out our trip and kept it in the locket over her heart.

Her hand wrapped around my fingers, tightening my hold on the tarnished locket. “I love you with this heart.” She tipped her head forward and pressed a kiss to my lips. Then she moved her hand and pointed to her scar, to the beating heart that lay beneath, “and with this heart .”