Crossing the Line (9 page)

“Cabin. Now,” he muttered against her lips. “Can’t do the things I need to do to you here.”

A little shimmy and her shoes clattered against the cobblestone. She knelt to collect them, then grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.”

Hanna’s dress made running impossible. They did their best—a semi-trot that would’ve made an old man’s jogging look like an Olympian sprint. Hanna’s giggle carried on the fresh air of a beautiful summer evening. Didn’t matter how slow they moved, they might as well have been flying. That’s what she did to him. Made him light. Made the simple stuff amazing.

Yeah, getting her naked could wait a few more minutes. “This way,” he said, dragging her off the path. “Shortcut.” Total bullshit. They cut behind another of the cabins, wove around a small garden. Down a narrower path that didn’t have a signpost. He’d planned to show her his find tomorrow morning, but waiting had never really been his thing.
Now
always seemed like the best time. Especially with her.

“Um, I don’t think this is a shortcut to our room…”

“Worried we’re gonna get lost?”

“Not even a little.”

Zero bullshit in that answer. She’d hopped on the back of his bike more times than he could count, often not knowing where they were headed, always trusting him to find their way. He slowed to a normal walking pace, lifted her hand to his lips. Brushed his beard over her soft skin. That always made her smile, even when things weren’t in down-and-dirty mode. This little detour should have the same effect.

A couple more minutes of walking took them to the end of the path—and their destination. He let go of her hand, then hung back to watch.

“Oh, Derrick…this is so pretty.” She swept the trailing boughs of the huge, weeping willow tree aside and stepped beneath its canopy.

Lucky thing the sun hadn’t gone down yet. The tree itself was something to see—had to be one of the biggest of its kind he’d seen up close—but it was the combination of light and leaves that made it amazing. Something he’d known she’d love the second he saw it.

“It reminded me of that picture on the mantel at your grandparents’ house.”

She spun around, her eyes wide and locked with his. “The one with me sitting in the crook of their old wishing tree when I was twelve?”

“Yeah.”

“They haven’t had that picture on display since they moved to the seniors’ complex, and that was three years ago.”

“Don’t need to see it,” he tapped his temple, “have it stored up here.” Along with her dreamy expression anytime she’d talked about her childhood visits to her grandparents’ former estate. How much she’d loved sitting under that tree, listening to frogs and birds, watching the sun bounce off the small stream that ran alongside. Like something from a storybook.

She crooked a finger at him. “Get over here.”

A command he was happy to obey. He followed her under, though “inside” might’ve been a better description. Stepping beneath the tree felt like entering a private little world. The sun’s rays pushed through the swaying branches. The grass beneath her bare feet could’ve been an intricately designed carpet, covered with abstract patterns in multiple shades of green. Ovals of light danced over her skin, hair and dress. The place had already had a magical quality. Hanna standing in the middle of it, her face glowing as she took it in, pretty much rendered him speechless. A damn mighty feat.

“You’re amazing. When did you find this place?”

“Went for a walk while you were getting ready for dinner. It was that or join you in the shower.”

“I wouldn’t have objected to having you wash my back, you know.”

He grunted. “Yeah, because
that’s
what would’ve happened.”

A couple of steps and she stood in front of him, palms flat on his chest. “I wouldn’t have objected to anything.”

“I know.” Fuck, did he ever. So did his damn cock, which currently felt thicker than the willow tree’s massive trunk. “That’s why I went for the walk.”

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek to his chest. “Since you found this beautiful spot, I guess I won’t complain.”

For a few minutes he just held her. Closed his eyes and listened to the cicadas and tree frogs doing their thing. Tried to imagine what it must’ve been like to grow up the way she did, with freedom and places to daydream. People who’d be waiting with open arms and an encouraging smile when she went home. She and Jeremy had that in common.

Not that Jer’s mom hadn’t tried to give Derrick a taste of that life. Linda Cruz had done more for him than anybody—starting with the call to social services when he’d shown up in her third-grade classroom with bruises his ratty clothes didn’t cover. His previous teachers had obviously chosen to turn a blind eye, because they sure as shit couldn’t have missed the endless marks he’d sported on a regular basis.

When going through proper channels failed, Mrs. Cruz had taken the less official road. She’d brought him to her house under the guise of free tutoring, introduced him to her son of the same age—Jeremy—then turned him loose in her home and yard. To play. To be a kid. Several times a week for the better part of the school year, ’til his dad demanded his child laborer and resident punching bag be home more often. But man, it’d been good while it lasted.

“You’re so quiet.”

“Ten years together and I can still shock you.” He held her tight, chuckling at her attempt to dig those dangerous elbows into his kidneys once again. “I was thinking. Even us dirt-under-the-fingernails types do that sometimes.”

“Don’t do that…”

Yeah, stupid comment. One she, of all people, didn’t deserve. He kissed the top of her head. Rubbed his beard over it, knowing he’d mess her smoothly pulled-back hair and not giving a rat’s ass, because neither would she. “When you hung out at your grandparents’ place as a kid, under that willow, what did you wish for?”

“Hmm…depends on my age at the time. Could’ve been wishing unicorns were real or wishing that Bruce McGinnis would ask me to be his girlfriend.”

He found her hand and wove their fingers together so they could walk side by side. “I know how the first part worked out. Sorry about the unicorns.”

“Hey, they could be real. I just haven’t seen one yet.”

So fucking sweet. Good thing he hadn’t met her when they were younger. He’d been a little shithead more often than not back then—she’d have hated him and he wouldn’t have all this.

“I want you to say it.”

He led her to the edge of the grass, smiling when she let go so she could tiptoe into the shallow brook that ran alongside. “Say what, baby?”

“That you believe unicorns could be real.”

Under other circumstances, he would’ve laughed his ass off—solely to get her to attack him—then fucked her until she’d forgotten the reason for her attack. But she looked so damn beautiful standing there, ankle-deep in the clear, sparkling water, dressed for sin but with eyes full of innocence. As if she truly believed horses with a single, pointy horn in the middle of their face existed somewhere.

Only one way he could answer. “Unicorns could be real.” Damn, that smile. For him. Because she loved
him
. That right there was proof that anything was possible. “What about Bruce—did he ever make his move?”

“Yes.”

Well, look at that. Cheeks so red, they almost matched her dress. “There’s a story there.”

“Nothing exciting.”

“Something smells like bullshit…” With a quick flick of his thumb he’d shucked his shoes. He didn’t bother to roll the bottoms of his jeans, just waded in after her. “And I think it’s your story.”

Oh, she tried to deke around him and back onto dry ground. Didn’t succeed though. He caught her around the waist and scooped her up, kicking and giggling, full of playful squirming. Until he faked dropping her into the water.

“Don’t.” She clamped her arms behind his neck when he mock-fumbled a second time. “You wouldn’t…”

She had to know that he would. In fact, suggesting that he
wouldn’t
douse her only made him want to do it more. A fact that was most certainly written all over his face right now.

“Derrick, please don’t…remember it’s my birthday weekend.”

“The ring, hair clip and a threesome aren’t enough? I think your birthday card has run out of gimmes, baby. The only way you walk away from this in a dry dress is by telling me the thing you don’t want to tell me about old Brucie.”

She shook her head. Shrieked and held on for dear life when he pretended to launch her downstream. “All right, I’ll tell, but set me down on the grass first.”

“Nice try.” Not losing control of this situation, no chance.

“Bully.”

“Just the way you like me.” Nails dug into his trapezius and the heat between them shot up about fifty degrees. “Isn’t that right?”

Now she nodded, licking her lips greedily as she did so. “I had a crush on Bruce since the sixth grade, but he was two years older and didn’t know I existed.”

“Until…?”

“Until I was in tenth grade. He noticed me at a dance and uh, invited me to cut out and go back to his house. We weren’t alone but it wasn’t a party, either. Just a couple of his buddies and their steady girlfriends. Me, a handful of seniors and a case of illegally acquired beer. My mother would have died if she’d found out.”

No shit on that one. He could totally picture the scenario. Had a pretty good idea how this story ended too. And it had his blood fucking boiling. “Don’t tell me he took advantage of you.”

“No, nothing like that.” She must have sensed the sharp change to his mood, because she stroked his face and looked into his eyes as she spoke. “They were all very nice. Nobody pressured me to do anything, drinking or otherwise.”

He nodded. Let her touch and words sooth the protective rage that’d roared to the surface at the thought of what could have happened.

“So…” One pretty, dark eyebrow rose. “I guess I’m off the hook for telling the rest of the story.”

Boom—with that challenge, she’d defused him. Pulled him back to the playfulness this moment deserved.

He grinned and shook his head. “Nice try. Let me guess, you hadn’t had alcohol before that night.”

“God no. I was fifteen.”

The innocence, Jesus. Beer was old hat by the time he’d hit tenth grade. He’d moved on to cheap vodka and assorted small-time drugs, paid for by hocking shit he stole from naïve princesses like Hanna. “What happened—you got drunk and gave it up?”

“Not quite.”

“This I gotta hear.”

“I had one beer, which I hated.”

He grinned wider. She still wrinkled her cute nose at the stuff. “And?”

“Everybody hung out in the living room and talked for a while. Then all the other couples disappeared behind various closed doors. I’d had a crush on Bruce for years, so I said yes when he asked if I wanted to go to his room. We got on the bed and started making out. He rolled onto his back so I was on top. We still had our clothes on and we were kissing like crazy. It was…”

The color of her cheeks told him he had to hear the rest of this story. “Yeah?”

“A lot more fun than I’d imagined.”

Oh yeah, he remembered those days. Classic teenage stuff. “Good old dry-humping.”

The blush that’d started to fade flared to a fresh shade of deep pink. “Yes, until I, um…”

“What? Did you puke on him or something?”

“Worse.” She pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “I had an orgasm.”

His hoot carried across the quiet summer evening. “Nicely done, Bruce. He must’ve felt like a fucking king, making you come. Took years for me to unlock the mystery that is the female orgasm, and to be honest, I never tried at that age. Didn’t even cross my mind.”

“I don’t know how he felt, I jumped off the bed and ran out.”

“Oh man, poor Bruce.” He sputtered when she squirmed in his arms and the hard ball of her heel connected with the soft spot below his ribs. “That’s not very ladylike, you know. Why’d you run, anyway?”

“I was totally freaked out. I’d never had an orgasm before.”

“You mean never with a guy, right?” he asked while returning her to the grassy haven beneath the willow’s branches.

“No, I mean
never
never. I’d touched myself a little, once in a while, and I knew how to make it feel sort-of good, but never taken it all the way. I was terrified I’d scream like one of the porno chicks I’d seen on my friend’s computer, and my parents would hear and send me off to a convent or something.”

He shouldn’t laugh. Couldn’t stop it from happening though. The harder he tried not to laugh, the less control he had, and the more contagious the laughter became.

He fucking loved that sound—Hanna dissolving into a fit of giggles. Almost made him want to ditch their plans for tonight and hang out under this tree, see what other gems he could pry from his beautiful wife. They’d have to come back another time. Or plant a willow tree in their yard.

She dropped onto the grass in a particularly sun-spotted area. “I can’t believe you made me relive that.”

“I can’t believe I’m just hearing that story now.” He took the spot directly behind her and pulled her between his legs, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Gonna have to see if that guy’s on Facebook when we get home. Check out my competition.”

“Pfft. You don’t have any competition. You haven’t had any since our first night together.”

“That’s how it’s gonna stay too. Because unlike Bruce McWhatever-His-Name was, I won’t let you grind’n’run. Got about thirty-thousand orgasms to give you before I’m done.”

“Is that all?”

“I figure that’s about two a day, every single day for the next forty-or-so years. Not enough to keep you satisfied?”

“I suppose I can make do with that.” She rested her head against his chest, tipping it up to smile up at him. “This isn’t my grandparents’ old wishing tree, but it’s close. Want to know what I’m wishing for right now?”

“If it’s for me to find you a unicorn, I may have to scale back on that thirty-K estimate. Hunting fairytale creatures could get time consuming.”

“I’m willing to forego the unicorn so you have more time to focus on thirty thousand better things. Which takes me back to my current wish…” She turned and rose on her knees, those soft hands gently gripping his shoulders. “I wish you’d take me to our room and start chipping away at that number.”