Love Scars (6 page)

An Adele song had the crowd moving on the lawn. The singer’s voice was full of sex and desire and longing, but the unrelenting beat wasn’t slow enough. I wanted to wrap my arms around Nora and press my chest to her back, plunge my face into her hair, and feel her body grind against mine. 

She moved between me and Brad, her hips swaying and her arms up and bent over her head, turning in a circle, her eyes closed. The worry had fallen away from her face, and she was even more beautiful. I wanted to take her in my arms and never let go.

It wasn’t merely the scent of Nora’s long dark hair that drove me crazy or the lure of her soft skin, or the mystery of her haunted brown eyes. All those things drew me to her before she ever said a word, but I’d hoped when she did speak it would break the spell. That she’d turn out to be an ordinary woman, easy to walk away from.

But then she did speak, and she did become a real person—but nowhere near ordinary. Despite horrible losses, she had so much to give. She looked out for the people she cared about, to the point of taking on heavy burdens so others’ loads were lighter. The opposite of every woman I’d ever been with.

If I didn’t get some space, I was going to grab her and kiss her right there.

Brad stopped dancing. He stared back at the boulder Nora hauled us down from. “Damn, she said yes.” From the way things looked, Brad’s angel had just agreed to marry another man.

Shit, the dude looked messed up. Maybe it really was love this time.

Nora’s attention shifted to Brad. She cared about everybody. It wasn’t easy to walk away from Nora. But it was imperative I did. I turned away.

“Brad, I’m so sorry,” I heard her say behind me.

A cloud of mint and rosemary pursued me across the lawn, tormenting me. I couldn’t get away fast enough. As I reached the side gate, Brad caught up with me.

“What are you doing?” he said. “You can’t leave.”

Over his shoulder, I watched Nora leave the dancing and take the path to the garden. I wanted to follow her, run my hands through her hair, pull her close and kiss those lips.

“We’ll find another way,” I told Brad. “I can’t do it. I’m getting the Pashley and riding home.”

“Well, that’s just crazy,” Brad said.

“I can’t, Brad. She’s too…”

“I mean it’s crazy to ride right now. It’s getting dark and the Friday night drunks are out. I’ll drive you.”

“It’s not that late. I want the exercise,” I said. “And man, I’m sorry about Lisa. She seems great. She’s definitely beautiful. Tonight the better man did not win.”

“That’s the thing, dude,” Brad said. “When I look at it objectively, maybe Frank
is
the better man.”

“I think not.” I got the bike out of the back of the SUV. “You’re an organizational genius, not to mention a tech billionaire.”

Oops.
We both looked around to make sure no one was listening.

“Yeah, there’s that,” Brad said. “But can I cure a sick alpaca? Do I make Lisa laugh? No. And no.”

“And you suck at cranberry martinis.”

There. He laughed. He’d be okay.

“I thought I was going to puke,” he said. “Give me a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale any day of the year.”

While I strapped on my helmet, Brad turned his SUV around and headed down the driveway. I mounted the bike, eager to burn off my frustration. It was a beautiful evening, the stars were blazing, and there was a perfect crescent moon. I breathed in the scent of the lilacs that lined the driveway. Brad was going to be okay. I was going to be okay.

Fuck Steve Heron. We’d just have to get our ducks in a row before MolyMo could make its move. Everything was going to be okay.

I heard a scream like it was the end of the world. Then another.

Nora.

I spun the bike around and headed for the side gate. It was slightly ajar, and I plowed into it, knocking it wide open as I rode through. The music had stopped and people were just standing there on the grass, stunned and confused. They parted like I was Moses when they saw me coming.

I hit the pathway to the garden and passed Frank and Lisa, both running toward the screams.

“Dead!” Nora stood by the fountain, screaming. “You’re dead! Dead!”

Half a dozen clowns from the party surrounded her, staring, doing nothing. Shitheads.

“What are you doing to her?” I said. I dismounted and tossed the bike to the side.

“Nothing, dude,” one guy said in a drunken haze. “We were just having a water balloon fight.”

“Yeah, just having some fun,” said another. “Harmless.”

I put my arms around Nora, but she fought me.

“Dead!” she screamed and pounded on my chest. Her fists were clenched and hard as rocks.

I hugged her tighter.

She seemed to calm down, if slightly. “You’re all de-e-e-e-ead.” Her screams morphed into sobs.

“It’s okay,” I said. I hugged her and kissed the top of her hair. “I’m here.”

“Time to go,” Frank said to the clowns behind me. He sounded like someone you didn’t want to cross. Maybe Brad was right about that guy.

“Now.” Lisa glared at the assholiest of the assholes until he nodded.

I rocked Nora in my arms. Over and over, I told her everything would be okay, with no idea of it being true. In the distance I heard Frank and Lisa chasing off the drunks and shutting the party down.

“You’re dead,” Nora whispered, staring into space.

Her hands were still clenched into rigid fists. I pried them open and rubbed the skin. In one hand she held the rose I’d left earlier with the fairy, and it fell to the ground. Her palm was bleeding from a thorn embedded in her skin. I pulled the thorn out and lifted her hand to my lips and kissed her palm.

“Dead.”

I dropped her hand and lifted her chin. Made her look at me. Her eyes slowly came back into focus, and she seemed to recognize me. Seemed to know where she was.

“Fuck.” The word escaped me before I could think. I bent down and kissed her on the mouth. I wasn’t being Sir Galahad, far from it. It wasn’t a kiss of comfort. It was a kiss of desire. I wanted as much from Nora Deven as I wanted to give to her.

I wanted her to kiss me back.

Chapter 8

They were all still dead, but the pine tree smell faded, replaced by the soothing scent of my roses. I heard the fountain and the wind chimes. In the distance Lisa yelled at someone to get the hell out and go home.

What happened? One minute I was sitting on the iron bench in the garden, smelling a Peace rose, watching stars brighten in a darkening sky. The next minute I was in J.D.’s arms.

He kissed me. His lips were soft but firm, and at first gentle. I melted into his embrace.
Safe here.
His tongue pushed into my mouth and a thrill of heat and desire shot through me and down between my legs. I pressed my hips against him and reached up behind his neck, my fingers in his hair.

I had to have him.
Please let me have him, just once.
Just once let me feel like a normal girl with a normal boy, doing something normal and wonderful.
Lies, all lies.
There was nothing normal about it. I just wanted him to cover me with kisses, and touch me in places that would drive all the other feelings, the bad feelings, away.

It was wonderful to fall apart in his arms.

My left hand hurt, but both my hands were unclenched. I touched his face and anchored myself in his gaze. “Thank you,” I said, and he kissed me again. Everything went woozy, and he swept me up into his arms.
God, so strong.

The world went black.

I woke up in my bedroom, still dressed and lying on top of the covers. J.D. sat beside the bed, hunched over with my hand pressed to his forehead.

“Are you praying?” I said. The idea struck me funny.

He looked up and smiled like he thought it was funny too. “You’re back.”

He was so strong and gentle, he made me feel wonderful. I regretted dissing him as a loser before, even if I’d only said so to myself.

“I wasn’t praying,” he said. “I don’t believe in God.”

“Me neither. At least, I haven’t for a long time.” God couldn’t exist in my world. Or if he did, he was an asshole. “Where’s Lisa?”

“She and Frank waited up for you. After midnight, I told them to go to bed and I’d stay with you.”

“That was nice of you.” I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. It was after one in the morning. “You’re a good guy.”

“Not really,” he said. I swear he blushed, and it drove me crazy. He put my hand down by my side and rested his palm flat on my stomach. My entire body tingled with desire.

I held up my left hand. “It hurts.”

“You were holding an American Beauty rose,” he said. “A thorn did that.”

“Peace,” I said. He must have meant the iron fairy’s rose.

“Peace?”

“American Beauties are red. The pink and yellow ones are Peace roses. It wasn’t an American Beauty.”

“You’re an American beauty,” he said.

I would have laughed, but he was so sincere—and then I swear he blushed. I sat up and put my hand behind his neck and drew his lips to mine. I pushed my tongue into his mouth, desperate to feel his acceptance. His tongue pushed against mine as he pushed me back onto the pillow. He moaned and ran his hand over my breast, and I arched my back. His kiss was hot and insistent. I was on fire for him.

I pulled him over me and rolled him onto his back and kissed his jaw and his neck. His skin was smooth and smelled so good. I moved down and sat between his legs and started to pull his shirt up. He sat up and ripped it off and tossed it to the floor. I tossed my tank top on the floor beside it.

As I ran my hands over his muscled chest, he slid my bra straps down. He kissed my neck, then my shoulder, then moved down. He slid my bra down and tongued a nipple, and I slipped out of my bra and put my arms around his shoulders, luxuriating in the sweet tingling as he sucked. He moved to the other nipple. I was was so hot, pulsating, wanting, wanting.

I pushed him back against the pillow and unbuttoned his pants. He helped me slide them down and off. I ran my fingers up his beautiful huge shaft, strong, hot, dripping. At the same time, I slid a finger between my folds and rubbed my clit.

I moaned and let go of him and straddled him. I needed to feel him inside me.

“Wait.” He put his hands under my armpits and lifted me and slipped out from under me. “Stop,” he said. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” What the fuck. “Do you need a condom?” I reached up and opened the drawer in my nightstand. “I think I have one.” It was weird, searching for a condom left by my boyfriend from months ago. “Do condoms have a sell-by date?”

He didn’t laugh. In fact, he looked a bit nauseated.

“Well, crap,” I said.

It was all going terribly wrong. His face was a blank. I was right earlier. J.D. didn’t want me, despite quite erect evidence to the contrary. I swung my legs around off the bed and ran to the bathroom. I locked the door, but it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t follow me. What the hell. I had to pee, anyway.

What was I thinking? J.D. had seen me in full-tilt meltdown. My lunatic fringe was on full display tonight. How could I ever believe he’d want to make love to
that
?

I splashed cold water on my face and brushed my teeth. I found my pajama bottoms and sleep top on the floor where I’d left them this morning—yesterday morning. The bottoms were green and covered with tiny white piranhas with huge teeth. The white tank top had one big green piranha on the front. Silly, but it didn’t matter. J.D. wouldn’t see them. At that moment he was probably throwing on his clothes. I gave him a few more minutes to get out of Dodge, and opened the bathroom door.

He was still there, still in bed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His eyes were as beautiful and soulful as ever. It hurt to look at them.

“Don’t be,” I said. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” I felt awful, but a part of me was glad he hadn’t left. “Can I ask you one more favor?” I said.

“Name it.”

“Would you mind staying with me tonight? It sounds trite, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d just stay with me tonight and hold me.”

He opened his arms, and I climbed into bed with my back to his chest. We settled in nicely together.
As if we were made for each other.
As I drifted off to sleep, I could swear he kissed my ear and whispered my name.

Chapter 9

The window was open. Outside, the little birdies were going cheep cheep cheep. For a second, I thought I was back at home on Orcas Island. The only thing missing was Scarlett blasting The Rascals’
It’s A Beautiful Morning
through Mom’s sound system.

I was still at Nora’s place, alone in her bed. I stayed the night because riding a bike at two o’clock in the morning was suicide, especially on a weekend. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

I’ll also admit I wanted to postpone the inevitable.

Once I left Nora Deven’s house, I’d never see her again. It was too dangerous. She’d slipped past all my defenses and embedded herself dangerously close to my heart. Deeper than any woman had ever touched me. She was a good person. I didn't want to hurt her.