Back Where We Belong (A Second Chances New Adult Romance) (3 page)

I feel so miserable until that
moment when Luke says, “Hey, Madison,” and kisses me in the parking lot of the
Shack. That changes everything. I know he likes me then, or maybe he feels
sorry for me. But whatever, I kiss him back. I can feel my heart thud as he
holds me tight. I want to lose myself in that kiss and never come back to
earth.

I'm not stupid. I know all the
girls he's been with are more experienced than me. That isn't difficult. I have
no experience! I don't want to lose him, but I'm scared. Scared of losing him
and scared of what I'll have to do to keep him.

“I'll take you back to Sandy
Cove,” he says. “We can walk along the beach there if you like.”

“Okay.”

I wonder what a walk along the
beach entails. It's midnight. We're not going to be building sandcastles.

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

“You're shivering a bit. This car
has a heater. It might even work.”

He adjusts the controls and warm
air blasts out. “Polar to tropical at the touch of a button.”

I laugh. “Every modern
convenience.”

“And even air conditioning,” he
says, and winks, winding down his window and then winding it back up.

We're almost there. I wish the
drive was longer. I feel safe with Luke in a moving car, but we're at the beach
in no time at all and getting out. He puts his arm around me and draws me to
him. He kisses me gently, just a touch of his lips on mine, twice,
butterfly-light kisses.

“You look like you're worried I'm
about to eat you up,” he says. “I can just take you home if you like.”

I don't want him to take me home.
“Let's walk on the beach. It's a nice night.”

A nice night? Is that all I can
say? Crap.

He holds my hand and we walk
along the sand. I feel the cool grains between my toes where my sandals kick up
the sand. The waves are slow, lapping the beach then receding in an endless
rhythm.

“Do you like living here?” I ask.

“I like living by the sea. But
there are four kids between five and seventeen, plus me and Mom and Dad at
home. We're living on top of each other all the time. In summer there’s not
even any school. It's like a zoo at times.”

“It does sound like chaos. But
it's better than when there's just you.”

“You're an only child then?”

“Yes, I'm not sure if they only
wanted one or couldn't have any more children. I think I put them off having
any more. I expect I got in the way of Dad's work and Mom's social life.”

“You're looking sad again. We
can't have that. I like it better when you laugh.” He squeezes my hand.

“Race you to that rock” He points
to a dark jagged mass jutting out from the sea onto the beach about three
hundred yards away. “Ready? One...two...three.”

He takes off, and I run after
him. We tumble onto the cold sand when we reach the rock, out of breath and
laughing.

“That's better.” He looks at me
in that intense way he has and he kisses me, his lips soft at first and then
more insistent, his hands holding me, pressing me so close to him that I'm sure
he'll feel my heart thud against his chest through our clothes. I can't help
responding to the feeling of his lips on mine, the gentle probing of his
tongue, his hard body, and I open my mouth to him and kiss him right back, the
sound of the waves in the soft night air providing the perfect backdrop for
that kiss.

“Much better,” he says gently,
kissing my nose when we finally part, a little breathless.

We lean against the rock. There's
no one on the beach. It's like our own private space. The sky is pitch black. A
few stars are out, but there's no moon.

“What do you want to do with your
life?” he asks.

“I don't know yet. I'll see after
college. Something in business, I guess.”

“Isn't there anything you'd
really like to do?”

I think for a moment. Does he
mean I should want to be a doctor or a lawyer or something specific like that?
I don't have the grades for anything like that. My mother would have loved it
though if I had.

“There's nothing really. When I
was fourteen, I wanted to paint. My art teacher used to tell me I had a gift.
But Mom said I could dabble with art stuff in my spare time. She wanted me to
go to college and wouldn't hear of anything else. So art school was out.”

I almost forgot about that.
Everyone I know is going to college and so am I.

“You should paint here, while
you're on vacation,” he says. “There are some awesome views, or I'll model for
you.” He puts his hand behind his head and strikes a pose. I laugh.

“Seriously though,” he says, “if
that's what you want to do, why not?”

He has a point. I have no paints
or anything here, but I could get a sketch pad and draw.

“What about you?” He's looking at
my mouth again and it's making me nervous.

“I have serious ambitions,” he
says.

I wonder if he means with me
right there on the beach for a moment from the way he's looking at me, and my
heart starts thudding again. But I don't say it's time to go home or anything.
I don't want to go home.

“With your uncle?” I remember
he's going to Chicago.

“That's just a start. I'm going
to make a million before I'm thirty, no, more than that, a billion.”

“And how will you do that?” I'm
sure he's joking.

“Hard work. Going for it.
Believing I can,” he says with such intensity, I almost believe him as much as
he seems to believe it himself. But I was just in his car. That's some ambition
for a guy with those wheels.

“When you make it, I might have
some art for you to buy.”

“Sold,” he says, and kisses me
again so there's no more talking, no more thinking, no more doing anything but
losing myself in him.

I know Madison doesn't believe me
when I say I'm going to make it. I can't blame her. Because who else would
believe it either? I even got in with the wrong crowd and fucked up school when
I was fifteen and had to repeat the tenth grade. But it makes me want to show
Madison she's wrong. I want to show everyone they are wrong about me.

I haven't just been wasting my
time waiting tables and screwing women. I've been making plans. I've been
reading. Yes, actual books. Not the kind you get in school. Business books.
Books about those who made it the hard way and came out successful in the end,
and I know anything those guys can do, I can do, too, if I work hard and create
the breaks for myself, just like the guys in those books.

But I don't want to think about
that right now because I'm sitting on the beach after midnight with Madison,
and I'm kissing her and she's responding, but not in the way that chicks
normally react by grabbing my cock and moaning. I can tell just by the way her
lips match the pressure from mine, the way they open, inviting me in.

I can't help my hands roaming
over her body. They seem to have a mind of their own, my hands. They don't care
I might frighten her off.

I want to touch her...everywhere.
I have my hands inside her t-shirt at the back. I can feel her skin, warm and
smooth, the elastic fastening of her bra across her back, the little bumps of
her spine. She doesn't pull my hands away or anything. I can feel her tense a
little against me, but she doesn't stop me.

She makes a little noise as I kiss
her, not quite a moan, but I take it as encouragement and undo her bra. She
gasps a little, but she carries on kissing me as my hands find their way to her
breasts, soft and inviting, small yet somehow exactly right on her. Her nipples
are hard protruding little peaks that I want to suck.

I was scared to walk along the
beach with Luke. I was worried what he would expect me to do. Now I'm with him
and he has his hands on me, inside my t-shirt, touching my breasts, and I'm
more scared of myself than I am of him because I want to let him do so much
more and we're out here on the beach. It's late, but anyone could come by. I
know that, but I don't stop him. I don't stop him when he pushes up my t-shirt
and takes one of my nipples in his hot mouth and sucks.

I don't want him to stop. I want
to stay here forever by the ocean on the hard sand, lying against this rock,
and let him take me in his mouth like that, his tongue worrying my nipples,
pinching them between his lips, biting them gently.

I know I should stop him. I
should be quiet in case anyone is out there approaching our part of the beach,
even though it's late, but I can't help it. I hear moaning and I know it's me
and I think I hear Luke whisper “beautiful” as he works me with his mouth, but
I can't be sure. I'm not sure of anything anymore.

He unfastens the top button of my
jeans and his hand is in my panties. I know I'm wet. I know he can tell how
turned on I am. I'm ashamed, but I don't stop him. I want his fingers there on
me, feeling my soft wet folds. And I'm touching him, inside his t-shirt,
feeling his hard body beneath my fingers, the smattering of hair on his chest,
the ripples of his stomach muscles. Oh god, as he explores me I want to reach
down and touch his cock. I feel him through his jeans. He's hard.

“Madison, you're going to kill
me.” He pulls away.

What have I done? Did I go too
far? He thinks I'm a slut. I want to cry, but he holds me and pulls down my
t-shirt and kisses my hair. And I don't think it's that at all, but something
is not right.

“Not here,” he says. “Soon. But not
here.”

What the fuck am I doing? She
would have let me take her right there on the beach. I know she would, and I
stopped it? Because I thought she might regret it later? What? Am I fucking
crazy? Madison is really screwing with my head. Or I'm getting screwy in the
head. Probably both.

She looks hurt at first. I have
to reassure her. I do want her. I want her a lot. Just not there on the beach,
and it occurs to me, it's not just because she might regret it. It's because I
want the first time with her to be special. And I've been there with too many
other girls. Not that beach, but other beaches. It's never that great. I know
that. The sand gets fucking everywhere. Girls think it's romantic, but it's
not. Not in the end. It's fucking uncomfortable.

So I hold her and kiss her gently
and take her home. It's not far to walk along the beach, but it takes a while
because I have to keep stopping to kiss her, and the way she responds makes me
want to kick myself for not taking things further because I swear my cock is
going to burst, or my balls, or both by the time we arrive at her house.

“How are we going to get you back
inside?” I wonder if she's thought about that.

“Like this,” she says, her eyes
twinkling, and she takes a key out of her pocket.

I laugh and promise to call her
the next day. And I mean it, I will call. I never say that to other girls. I
don't make promises if I don't know I'm going to keep them. With other girls, I
might call them, I might not, depending on my mood. But I know I'm going to
call Madison.

She goes in and I'm left standing
there, wondering what happened to me, knowing I can't wait to see her again.
I've got a screw loose for fucking sure.

I know guys always say they'll
call and then they don't, but somehow I believe Luke. I don't doubt he'll call.
And he does. Just like he said he would. He's wrangled the day off and we're
going on a picnic.

I don't even have to clear it with
my parents. Dad has had to go back to the city for some work crisis or other.
Typical! Even when he's supposed to be on vacation.

I heard Mom raging about it this
morning when I was in bed still half asleep, thoughts of Luke and his kisses
running through my head, making me smile even with the screaming match going on
downstairs. The sheets are gritty with sand where I fell into bed last night.

Mom has gone out now as well. I
heard the door slam after her. She didn't say where she was going or when she'd
be back. As if I care.

Luke picks me up at eleven. I'm
starting to really like his car. He's right. Mrs. Murgatroyd has got oodles of
personality along with the rust.

“Nice dress.” He smiles and
kisses me on the cheek.

I don't wear dresses very often,
but I like this one. It's soft blue, cotton with little thin straps and buttons
all down the front. I'm already imagining Luke undoing those buttons. When I've
worn it before I've never had a thing like that on my mind. It's just been a
dress. And I've never worried about the kind of panties I would wear under it
or cared that the straps were so thin it was better without a bra. I just wore
it. Now it will be the dress that Luke liked, maybe the one Luke took off. I
don't know. The thought excites me, makes me shift a little on the front seat
of his car.

He takes my hand and squeezes it.
“I thought we'd go out to Butterfly Ridge.”

“I like it there.”

“You been there much before?”

“Once.”

“There are a few different
trails. I'm going to show you the one I like best.”

I hope I'll be okay in my sandals
whatever he has in mind.

“I wouldn't have guessed you were
into hiking,” I say.

“Oh I like a good hike.” He
grins. “But I usually go alone. Sometimes I need to get away when things are
crazy at home, you know.”

“Tell me about it,” I say. “They
had another row this morning because Dad had to go back to the city for some
reason or other. Mom was livid.”

He squeezes my hand again. I
decide I'm going to forget Mom and Dad and their stupid rows. I don't know why
I brought it up anyway. It's such a lovely day and I don't want to spoil it.

“You want some music?” he asks.

“Yeah, alright.”

“You might have to sing then.
This top-of-the-range vehicle only has a radio and the local station is crap.”

I laugh. “I think we'll do without
the music then. I'm tone deaf. You would have to cover your ears.”

“Oh no, I thought you were going
to serenade me at least, in payment for the great picnic I brought.”

“Afraid not.”

“Oh well, a smile and a kiss will
do,” he says, and we laugh.

It's not far to Butterfly Ridge.
We're there in twenty minutes. He gets the cooler out of the trunk and a picnic
rug. There are a few marked paths, but he takes my hand and leads me into the
forest after about fifteen minutes following one of the well-worn trails.

There aren't many people about.
It's hot and I'm thirsty. Maybe it's not such a good day for a walk—it's more
like the perfect day for lying on the beach with a cool drink. My sandals are
okay for the path but I stumble a few times in the forest and Luke takes my
hand. It's cooler in there but after about ten minutes or so we come to a
clearing in the trees by a little stream.

“My favorite place,” he says.
“I've never been here with anyone else.”

“It's beautiful,” I say, because
it is.

I help him lay the picnic rug out
on the ground under the shade of the biggest tree.

“It's a copper beech,” he says.
“I had one of those tree spotting books when I was a kid. And animal spotting.
I can tell the difference between a hedgehog and a skunk at fifty paces.”

We laugh and sit down side by
side on the blanket under the copper beech. He puts his arm around me and I
lean against him.

“You want some water?” He reaches
into the cooler and hands me a bottle.

We're both thirsty.

He kisses me and I feel his lips,
cool from the water. I've been waiting for this—being alone with him, the
intoxicating scent of him, his soft lips, his kiss, his hard body against mine.
Is he going to say “Not now, not here” again? I don't want him to say that. I
don't want him to say anything like that.

There's no breeze where we are
sitting, but the leaves rustle gently above us as he lays me down on the picnic
rug and undoes the buttons on the bodice of my dress slowly one by one, looking
into my eyes as if challenging me to stop him. I'm not going to. I want his
hands on me. He pulls the dress open exposing me to the soft summer air.

“Beautiful,” he says, as clearly
as anything this time, so I know what he's said, and he bends his head and
takes my nipple into his mouth.

As I feel him licking, sucking,
biting gently, I'm arching my back to his lips, as if offering myself to him. I
am shameless. I can't help it. I want his mouth on me. I want more.

Sometimes he stops to kiss me on
the lips, searching deep kisses, until I can hardly bear to release his mouth,
kisses that leave me aching with need. Sometimes he pauses in kissing my mouth
or my breasts to undo another button until the dress is fully open at the
front. He plants light kisses on my stomach, kisses that leave me breathless,
and he kisses every inch in a line down my body until he's at my panties,
burying his nose in them. I gasp. I know I am wet. Then he pulls them off, and
I am lying naked on my dress under the copper beech. I don’t know where to
look. I know I’m blushing. He can’t take his eyes off me. I want to grab my
dress and put it back on to protect myself from his gaze but I don’t.

“I wanted to see you lying there
like that,” he says. “Before we came here. I wanted to see you here exactly
like this.”

He looks down at me and traces a
finger from my lips down my body right down to the cleft between my legs,
teasing me there until I am writhing beneath his fingers and I can't help a
moan escaping my lips. Then I feel his mouth on me there, licking, sucking,
pinching with his lips. Seeing his dark head working between my thighs, hearing
my own heavy breathing makes me feel so wanton. I look at the canopy of leaves
and the blue sky beyond and I can hardly believe I am doing this, that Luke is
kissing me there, sucking me there. And then I can't think at all as he takes
me over the edge and beyond, my limbs shuddering beneath him.

He lifts me up and out of the
straps of my dress then and pulls me to him so I'm kneeling one leg on either
side of his. He holds me round the waist and kisses me deeply, and I taste
myself on him. It's strange, salty. I feel so vulnerable, naked on top of him
while he is dressed, sitting with my legs splayed completely open to him where
he sucked me and made me come. But he looks into my eyes and holds my gaze, and
I feel powerful too. I reach for the buttons on his shirt and undo them and
take it off and then I pull his white t-shirt over his head too. Pressed
against him, I feel the hard planes of his chest against my bare body, warm and
almost reassuring, calming the turmoil in my head for a second. Then I reach
for the button on his jeans, brushing past his hard length, and he gives a
sharp intake of breath.

“Careful,” he says, “or you will
be the end of me.” But he smiles as if confident he can handle anything I do.

He lays me down again on the rug
beside my abandoned dress and takes off the rest of his clothes. I've never
been with a naked man. I want to reach out and touch him, his hard body, his
cock, but I don't dare. I'm so sensitive right now. It's as if I feel every
fiber of the rough picnic rug against my back. I grasp the soft blue cloth of
my dress in my fingers, like an anchor to something familiar.

I know this is it. I want it, yet
I fear it. Anticipation sends shivers down my spine.

I can feel the heat of his body
before he pulls me to him on the rug. He kisses me, our hands everywhere,
grasping as if hungry for flesh. I feel his hard length against me. How will it
feel to have him inside me?

He stops for a moment, fishes for
a foil packet from his abandoned jeans and tears it open with his teeth.

My heart lurches as fear and
excitement pool in my belly. My insides clench.