“Let me think about it.”
“Of course,” I said, pasting on a grin. It wasn’t a rejection, it was just a “think about it.” And anyway, I had more important things to worry about.
“Right. Shower.” He stepped over, kissing me on the forehead. “I won’t be long. Read a skating magazine or a textbook or something.”
“Thanks.” I laughed.
Across the hall, the bathroom door clicked quietly shut. The minute it did, I got busy unlacing my Doc boots. Off went the socks, the whole lot pushed to the side. Then up I stood and off came my denim dress. Nerves hit me and holy hell, old me would have stopped right there and then. But no. Who would wash John’s back if I didn’t get naked and go in there? Sacrifices must be made. It was time to get brave.
The door creaked ominously as I opened it, the room already filling with steam.
“Edie?” he asked, sounding surprised. Fair enough. My fearlessness kind of impressed me too.
Carefully, I closed the door and locked it. “Hi.”
He pulled back the shower curtain, eyes widening, gaze flitting down my body before returning to my face. “You want to come in?”
“Hygiene is important.”
“It is.”
He moved over, making room for me before drawing me into the small space. Then he kissed me over and over, brushing his lips on the mine, making me crazy with his mouth. Taking it easy and taking his time. The boy made my stomach dip and my head spin. It was out of control, the way he affected me. I slid my hands over his wet skin, up his chest and onto his shoulders. Fingers digging in just a little.
The ugly stress from earlier in the evening was gone at last, replaced by a wholly different feeling.
“Another first,” I said. “Showering with a member of the opposite sex.”
“I like being part of your firsts.”
“Yeah?” I slid my fingers down over his flat belly, getting closer to my target. “I’ve never actually touched your bare penis. Only through your clothes. Do you realize that?”
“No?”
“No.”
Dark, intense eyes stared straight into mine. “Edie, you can touch whatever you want.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. The skin was so incredibly soft. But the flesh beneath had started hardening, thickening in the loose grip of my fingers. A real live dick. Wow.
“You have this little frown of concentration,” he mumbled, lips brushing over my forehead.
“Well, I find this very interesting,” I said.
“You make me sound like a science project.”
“Do I?”
My fingers strayed lower, discovering the even-softer feel of his sac. Stomach muscles tightening, he widened his feet a little, giving me room to play. Honestly, though, it was his actual penis and getting a good reaction from it that had me really curious. I gripped him more firmly, blinking the water out of my eyes to better see the veins standing out. Over and around, my thumb brushed the smooth crown or the head or whatever the hell it was called. Such a fascinating shape, especially with the little tuck-in bit interrupting the flare. Guess my fumbling ministrations didn’t feel too bad, because it wasn’t long before he swore under his breath.
“You okay?” I asked, pushing back my wet hair and giving his cock a small squeeze. “Is this okay?”
John’s breath hitched. “It definitely is.”
“I want to make you come.”
“Okay. Soap up your hand,” he instructed.
I did, then stroked him experimentally, fingers firmer than before. “Like this?”
“Mind if I show you?”
“No.”
“Here.” His hand covered mind, gripping tighter, pulling a little harder. “That’s it. That feels damn good.”
Together we worked him toward release. He grew larger, skin hot and flushed by all the blood beneath. The feel of him in my hand was magnificent. And the way his whole body hardened, muscles tensing, lungs and heart pumping so fast. It was intoxicating. Touching John, getting him off, got me all worked up as well.
“Edie,” he bit out. “Fuck.”
Semen striped my belly, coated our combined hands. He shook, panting, face tipped up to heaven. Then his arms slipped around me, pulling me in tight. There wasn’t an inch of space between us. Honestly, it was a little tough to breathe. But there wouldn’t be a word of complaint from me.
“Thank you,” he said, the words muffled against my wet hair.
“Anytime. That was fun.”
I couldn’t hear him laugh, but his chest vibrated against mine. A minute later he said, “Tell me.”
“Hmm? Tell you what?”
His mouth moved to my neck, making everything low in my belly seize up in ecstasy. To be alone with him, skin to skin. Absolute bliss. Also, giving him pleasure turned me on.
“Say it again,” he said.
“Oh.” Duh. “I love you.”
And the slow smile that spread across his face, it was everything.
“I can’t get the zip up, could you . . .” I said, walking down the stairs. Still trying to wrestle the stupid thing on the back of my dress into submission. It must have caught on something. “John?”
Everything in the living room was eerie silence and shadows, still only the small lamp on the side table glowing. But this much I could see: John stood close to someone, another male. A horribly familiar one. Face covered in darkness, clothes hanging off his body. Also, the other person, he had something shiny in his hand pointed straight at my boyfriend. A gun.
“Baby, go back upstairs,” said John in a voice that was too calm.
I froze.
“Baby,” spat the stranger. “Since when do you call your sluts ‘baby’?”
Oh, shit. Dillon.
My brain crashed, not wanting to make sense of the scene. “What is this?”
“Go back up,” John repeated. “Wait for me in my room.”
“This isn’t even your real home,” said Dillon.
“Get upstairs!”
My whole body jolted at the tone of John’s voice, the volume. And this . . .
Shoving his gun under John’s chin, Dillon snarled, “She’s not going anywhere. Get your ass down here, bitch.”
I made my way down the rest of the stairs, one step at a time. Part of me was screaming in panic, making even putting one foot in front of the other a frantic challenge.
But another part of me was quiet, insulated from the fear. Truth was, I knew what was happening downstairs even before I saw the gunmetal glint in Dillon’s hand. Danger had a smell. A taste. I recognized it in an instant. It was all just as it had been. I was back at the Drop Stop all over again. Beer and blood. Cigarettes and lies.
Except some crazy part of me said that was a lie; that I had never escaped from the Drop Stop. All this time, we had always been here. There had just been me, and John, and a gun with bullets.
I stopped at the bottom of the steps, torn between getting to John’s side and getting away from the violence.
“Introduce me properly, little brother.”
“This doesn’t involve her.”