“Well now.” I trail my hands down his chest, all the way to the waistband of his shorts and savor when he shudders. I surprise us both by saying, “For scientific purposes, I’d like to test out that theory.”
When we kiss, it starts out maddeningly slow, all anticipation and want. His tongue teases mine and then disappears; mine follows in response. Kissing Kellan is like falling into a black hole, because there’s no way to resist his gravitational pull. I’m overheating thanks to his hands, grazing me so lightly that I want to scream, and his mouth, which is warm and inviting. It’s painful, these aches he’s causing. He’s a black hole I’m glad to lose myself in. I’m squirmy, and needy, and he continues his slow torture of me until I break. I force my mouth hard against his, my body against his, but any relief I thought I’d get is a joke, because now I’m worse off than before.
When we finally pull apart, we’ve stolen each other’s breath. He and I stare at each other in bewilderment.
Because there’s no turning back now, and I think we both know it.
It’s late at night, but neither of us is tired as we sit in his bed, eating ice cream to combat sticky heat. I poke at him with my plastic spoon. “This must be normal for you.” A raised eyebrow prompts me to clarify, “Staying up at night.”
He leans back against the headboard. “Pretty much.”
“Maybe you’re part vampire,” I say, and he chuckles.
“Maybe you’re an old lady. You go to bed at, what? Eight o’clock at night?”
Outraged, I flick a spoonful of ice cream at him. It lands on the base of his neck; clearly, he didn’t expect this from me. He swipes at the glob with a finger and stares accusingly at me.
My sides hurt from laughing. “You shouldn’t mess with me, mister.”
He slowly sucks the ice cream off, watching me the whole time. I envy that finger. “More proof. You aim like an old lady, too. Even in the cave, when you were pissed as all hell, you couldn’t hit me straight on.”
I gasp and ready my spoon for a second assault. He laughs and grabs it away from me. We sword fight with our utensils until I surrender and climb into his lap. I like how I can feel just how turned on he is by me, like even more how he groans when I press against him. “Your neck is still sticky.”
His eyes are dark and hooded. “Can’t have that,” he murmurs.
When I’m done licking the ice cream off his neck, I’ve left behind a mark. I’ve never, ever done that before. I’ve always thought they’re tacky and gross. But right now, it feels oddly comforting to see one on his skin. Like it shows he’s mine.
We’re lounging on the front porch, eating grapefruits for breakfast when Kellan’s eyes go distant. I know why, so I sit quietly and sugar the pink, juicy flesh until it’s sweet and irresistible.
After several minutes he tells me, “Things are progressing in Africa.”
We haven’t talked about Jonah once since coming to Costa Rica. Not a single mention of his name. And, it’s been done solely for self-preservation, at least on my end, because talking about Jonah is pretty much the same thing as admitting that I deserve far more than a scarlet A.
Which I do. There’s no doubt about that. I just don’t want to think about it yet. Because, for all my desperate rationalizations of how, sooner or later, this would’ve happened anyway since Kellan and I are Connected, the fact is, I’m still cheating on Jonah. And it kills me, it really does, but I feel so helpless right now to resist the Connection with Kellan.
It’s a piss poor excuse, but the only one I can hold onto.
I wouldn’t wish this situation on my worst enemy. People think Connections are so wonderful, so desirable. It’s such a joke. If they only knew what a slave you become to that which you can’t control, people would never want such a thing. They’d run screaming in the opposite direction.
I finish slurping a slice that tastes exactly like bitter guilt before I murmur, “Oh?”
“They’re moving to a third site today. Less cell reception there than where he’s at now. He’s been quiet, even with me. I think he’s not wanting to expose either of us to his misery right now.” Kellan isn’t looking at me, but that’s okay. I’m having a hard time looking at him right now, too. “He hopes you understand why he hasn’t been sending messages.”
An ache for Jonah strikes me fast and hard. Other than the time I was trapped in a cave, we haven’t gone this long without at least talking to one another in a long time. I miss him. I genuinely, seriously miss him.
Want him.
I’m a seriously awful person.
I force myself to sound as conversational as Kellan. We ought to be on a stage. “Are they at least able to drive to the new location?”
He shakes his head. “Mostly hiking. I guess the bugs are horrible.”
“But, I bought him bug spray!”
Kellan laughs ruefully. “He’s being eaten alive, so I’m hazarding to guess he forgot to put it in his bag.”
Sadness washes over me, for how Jonah’s suffering, doing who knows what in the middle of nowhere, and here I am, with his brother.