Impulsion: A Station 32 Fire Men Novel (9 page)

“You’re safe,” he said, taking her hand. A million ways to get back to the house without being seen were racing through his mind, along with a million excuses he could come up with for being out with Harley.

When they got closer to the main barn, he stopped and listened. The dogs were not barking, and no new lights were on, but that didn’t mean anything. Wyatt’s father never used a flashlight when he went out, said that gave him away.

A minute later, they saw truck lights coming down the main drive. The dogs started barking again. The truck belonged to one of Camille’s main barn hand’s girlfriends. Johnnie lived in the back house. They were sure she had just dropped him off.

They waited in the darkness, watching the house, the barn, the fields, everything, before Wyatt took her hand and moved her through the shadows. Just before she climbed to her room, his lips met hers; he gave her a deep kiss, then pulled away and lifted her. He didn’t move until he knew she was safe, then he took off like the speed of light running to his apartment in the main barn.

Harley watched with a thundering heart from her window, waiting for his signal. The second she saw a flash of light move across his window, she knew he’d made it safely, that Truman had never awoken.

It took her forever to fall asleep that night, to still her heart. When she did drift, in her dreams she spent the night on the bank of that creek, losing herself with Wyatt. Her body hurt, her heart hurt. She wanted him more than she wanted anything in the world.

The next morning, Wyatt watched Harley’s ride from a distance, perched in the hayloft. He smiled every time he heard his mother praise Harley, every time he heard her say, “That’s it, soft hands, strong legs—good, there you go.” Once Harley was past that barricade, there wasn’t much to hold her back; she dominated that course.

He only managed to brush his hands down her side as he helped her take the saddle off Danny Boy. “Those legs looked powerful out there.”

Harley blushed, even laughed. “I have a good trainer. Taught me rhythm.”

Two days later, it rained all day. They knew it was coming, tried to plan something to keep everyone occupied, but by noon all the tack had been cleaned and the barn was settled. That was when Ava started to beg her mom to make Wyatt and Truman take all of them into town to shop, to go to the movies that night.

Wyatt and Harley’s stare met as Ava made her plea, as Wyatt somewhat protested that he was not a babysitter or chaperone. This little outing had happened a few times since Wyatt had gotten his license.

The thing was that none of them could agree on a movie to watch, which put them all in different theaters. It also gave Harley and Wyatt two hours to disappear, if not longer. There was a lookout point not far from the center where the theater and shops were. They had made their way there a time or two; in fact, some of their biggest firsts had happened there.

They didn’t have to worry about distant dogs barking, someone walking around the corner or yelling their names, or discovering they were not in their beds. It was two hours of uninterrupted time alone. Heaven.

From the way Ava was laying out her argument, it was sure to be even longer. She wanted to shop, wanted to eat in the food court and not go to a movie until nine.

“Harley, you want to come. I know you do. You can get more books, get whatever,” Ava pleaded. She was hoping that even if Wyatt told her no, she could get Harley to take her.

All Harley did was smile.

“Wyatt, son. She’s driving me mad. I’ll fill your truck up,” Camille said without looking up from the magazine she was reading.

Most times Camille filled his truck anyway, but in a way that was his payment for the rides he had done. A free tank of gas, at least two hours alone with Harley, and all he had to do was drive his sister all over town to pick up her friends—it was hard to look as if he were put out.

“I’m not picking up Dorcas,” was his only protest.

Dorcas was old enough to drive but didn’t have a car. She had managed to become one of Ava’s ‘best friends,’ even though she was older. Ava was hanging out with her for the obvious reasons; she wanted to learn all about boys, how to flirt, the makeup, the clothes, all things Harley would not or could not teach her. Dorcas was hanging out with Ava for reasons that were apparent to Harley; it put her close to all the Doran boys. Harley’s mother called girls like Dorcas gold diggers, yet most of the girls Harley knew back home like Dorcas were far less obvious.

“Truman can,” Camille said, closing her magazine. “Ya’ll get ready. I’ll send Beckett to the bank to get some cash.”

Getting ready to go shopping and to a movie should not be hard, but it was for Harley. She knew from the look in Wyatt’s eyes that she was getting ready for more than that—at least she hoped. She changed her summer dress a million times over, finding something about each one that would hinder her down the road.

She was standing on the front porch, watching the trucks in the distance. Easton was at Wyatt’s apartment, but that wasn’t odd; Kate was sure to go out with Ava tonight. What was odd was that he had dropped Kate off at the house, and now he and Wyatt were having some kind of pow wow in the barn.

“I want to eat at that new Chinese place,” Ava was saying.

“What time is the movie? I want to pick up some new earrings,” Kate was saying.

“Not ‘til nine. Dorcas said she would go with us to buy makeup so we could learn to make it look natural.”

Harley smirked at that; nothing about any of Dorcas’ makeup skills was natural, no doubt there.

A moment later, Easton, with Truman in his passenger seat, pulled up in front of the house, along with Wyatt in his own truck. Ava rode with Easton and Truman to go pick up Dorcas and some other girl. Kate and Harley rode with Wyatt to pick up even more of Ava’s friends across town. Harley rode in the back, still trying not to seem obvious. Kate never noticed the glances Wyatt was giving Harley in the rearview mirror, but Harley felt the heat of want in each one slide through her body and warm her core.

At the shopping center, everyone was dropped off at the door while the trucks were parked because it was raining.

“They must’ve been afraid you were going to melt, Miss Priss,” Dorcas taunted.

Harley turned to face her; the rain had not only made the foundation Dorcas had layered on her cheeks look like bullet holes, it had also managed to make her eyeliner run. Harley reached her finger for Dorcas’ cheek, pulled away her thumb, which was now covered in black. “I’m not the one melting.”

Dorcas gasped and took off for the corner of the overhang and pulled out her mirror. Moments later, Wyatt, Easton and Truman could be seen running across the parking lot, laughing as they did so.

Just to ensure that Dorcas had no grounds for gossip, Harley went off on her own more than a few times. When she was with the group, she managed to keep a placid expression when she saw Dorcas lean into Wyatt and hackle a fake laugh at something he had said.

When it was time for the movies to start, Wyatt let out a warning to his sister not to leave the center and to be outside at eleven-forty sharp or he was going to leave her there.

Harley had picked a movie she knew Ava would hate, that the boys would hate. She even smiled when Ava told her that only she could find a way to be alone when she was supposed to be hanging out with everyone.

Wyatt made out like he was following Easton, but he hit the first exit door he could find so he could retrieve his truck. Harley lingered with Ava a few minutes longer, even walked with all of them to their theater, before acting like she was going to hers.

She stood in the hallway to the door she was supposed to enter for a minute or two, listened for the girls down the hall, then dove around the corner and nearly jogged down the dim hallways, looking for the exit she and Wyatt always snuck out of.

He was there as soon as she opened the door, leaned across the truck to open her door and help her in. It was pouring constant sheets of rain.

Wyatt brought their laced hands together, let his lips kiss her flesh. “You want to go up there?”

He was content just to drive around or park in the back of the parking lot, but without a doubt he wanted to use these stolen hours to hold her, at least let his lips run across her.

“I do,” she breathed.

His hand tightened around hers just before he let it go and shifted the truck into gear.

The thought of this hilltop had always made Harley’s heart race. It seemed like every major first happened up there, the awkwardness of it. They would always find a way to perfect whatever line they crossed in the hayloft or on the creek side later, but this was the place they had come the closest to being flesh to flesh. It was almost poetic that this night had found a way to exist.

Wyatt parked the truck deep in the shadows of the hilltop and turned out all the lights; even if someone else dared to come up there, they would see them first. Wyatt doubted anyone would come up, though. This place was meant to be used to see the stars, or the distant hills when they changed colors; you couldn’t see anything tonight, not under this canopy of rain.

He nodded to the back seat in a silent question. When she smiled, he stepped out, then got in the back seat through the passenger door. He was far too tall to climb over the seat, but Harley wasn’t; she had glided over just as he slid into his seat. Wyatt’s build could have contributed to the awkward moments they had in this truck. He was too tall to lie all the way down
—his shoulders were broader than the seat—but they both knew no matter how awkward it had been in the past, they had no issues finding their way to the positions they wanted to be in.

Wyatt pulled out a plastic square from his pocket. One glance was all Harley needed to know what it was, and she felt adrenaline rush to every inch of her skin. Wyatt set it on the console. “When we get carried away, I’m not going to be able to think, Harley, to doubt the way I feel. I need you to make this choice. I need you to tell me for sure you’re ready.”

She glanced to it, then met his eyes. She was terrified and excited at the same time, felt like she was standing on some massive ledge that she was about to jump off of—and once she did, she would never be the same again…they would never be the same again.

That vulnerability was in his blue eyes once more, that question. She leaned into him, let her eyes dance across his face just before her lips met his.

The kiss he returned was powerful, full of the seduction they were well practiced at. She barely noticed the tremble, didn’t really pick up on it until he laid her back and her hand rushed across his chest; that was when she felt his heart thundering, more so than ever before.

Every few seconds, she would forget what they were there for. In her mind, he was driving her wild, as he always did. That’s what she told herself as he urged her dress up, past her waist, past her chest, as his kisses fell across her balmy skin. That was what she told herself as she pushed his shirt up, as she fumbled with his buckle, the button on his jeans.

When the thought that at any second they could cross this line would come, that fire he brought to her would be doused in fear. It was the fear that she would do it wrong, that it would hurt, that it would ruin them, that a million things could go wrong.

Somehow he would feel that, and with his skilled hands, those practiced fingertips, he would cause her to forget the question that was lingering over them.

That dance, that passionate make out session they had mastered long ago, went on for close to an hour before he slid her panties down. She knew he wasn’t making this choice for them, that he was content to let them dance on this ledge, was sure of it when his lips started to move down her body. Just as they reached her hips, her hand lurched to the side and grabbed that cold square wrapper and slid it in his hand. He froze; his lips, his hands, they all stilled. From the edge of her hips, he looked up at her, his blue eyes finding a way to gleam in the night—it was a question she saw in his gaze. She squeezed her hand around his and held her breath, even glanced away as he sat up and she heard the plastic tear.

Even when she told herself to breathe, to just be there now, to focus on him, the sensation, breaths were few and far between, her skin was on fire, she felt adrenaline saturating every muscle.

“Baby, I think you have to relax. It might hurt worse if not,” he said as his hands moved up her sides.

She didn’t want to respond, didn’t want to talk about the mechanics of this, what her body was going to go through
. Instead, she reached for his face, pulled him into a sweet kiss, and did her best to move herself around him, even reached to help him for a second.

When it began, relaxing was not an option. She felt invaded, felt like her body was dividing in two; it was agony. She knew it was not supposed to be good the first time, but she expected the pain to be sweet, worth it.

Just as they became one, he stilled above her and she felt his hand caress her face. “Okay?” he asked with a rasp.

She nodded stiffly. “Just go slow,” she said as evenly as she could.

And he did, he moved as slow as possible, feeling the pain, too, feeling her body tense to the point where her flesh was hard as a rock. He felt her every tremble.