Silver Heart (7 page)

“Thanks for waiting,” he said as he lowered himself next to me. “I still can’t believe you’re sitting right in front of me.” He looked into my eyes then slid his gaze over the rest of my body and reached out to touch my hair. “It’s really you, Silver.”

“It’s really me.”

“You look…” His fingers drifted from my curls to my cheek. As he cupped my face in his hand, his thumb grazed over my lower lip, sending a shock of heat through me. “…different.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know.” His eyes refused to release me as he continued to caress my lip. “You’re so…grown up. At the same time, you’re still so...
Silver
.”

His green gaze pulled me into depths of insanity. My heart pounded, my breathing quickened, and my hands began to tremble as I fought for control. I felt like I was going to explode from the inside. Or maybe dissolve into a puddle. Most likely, both.

I’d always loved Sawyer’s eyes, but there was something different about them now. Something mature, mysterious, and incredibly sexy. For the first time ever, I understood the meaning of
panty-melting look
. He was definitely giving me one. And it was working. A little too well.

Oh, shit.

I pulled my lip away from his finger and cleared my throat. “I’m all grown up and you’re all tatted up,” I said, attempting to change the subject. I needed to quiet the volcano of molten lava that was threatening to erupt within me—
STAT
.

Then I made the dangerous mistake of running my finger along his forearm over a swirl of black ink. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything. He just watched me explore the art on his body.

“This is my favorite.” I traced the tip of my finger across two words that formed a cross. The word
live
ran down the length of his arm in a vertical direction. It shared the letter
i
with
ride
which intersected it horizontally. “It describes you perfectly. You live to ride.”

“And ride to live,” he added.

He didn’t have to elaborate. I knew exactly what he meant. Sawyer had started snowboarding as a means to get out of his house and escape his father’s abuse.

He shifted his weight and leaned back on his arm. The sleeve of his t-shirt moved slightly, revealing another series of letters.

“What does this say here?” I asked as I lifted up his sleeve. It took every bit of strength and self-control I had within me to hold in my gasp.

Silver.

“Is that…for that medal you won at the X-Games a while back?” I managed to ask without letting my voice crack.

“Yeah. The X-Games,” his lips said, but his eyes were telling a whole other story. His sad smile tore apart my heart, but the words that followed sewed it back up. “There’s nothing better than a silver medal.”

“Most normal people reach for gold,” I told him, tugging his sleeve back down. Before I had a chance to pull my hand away, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist, locking it in place.

“Most normal people don’t know the value of silver,” he said, gently caressing the sensitive skin above my pulse with his thumb.

“We’re not talking about medals anymore, are we?” I whispered, shivering under his touch.

He leaned in and lifted my chin up to his face, once again taking my breath away with a single, scorching look. “Were we ever?”

At that point, it was no longer just my body that was doing the melting. My mind melted right along with it. But it wasn’t just the meaning behind Sawyer’s words that took away my ability to think. It was his low, gravelly voice. And that silent, severe need in his eyes. His proximity also had a little something to do with it.

He stroked my chin with his fingers, awaking sensations I didn’t even know existed within me. My skin purred to life under his touch. I felt a sudden craving for contact. I wanted to touch him, feel him, breathe him,
live
him.

It quickly became clear that it wasn’t just Sawyer who had changed; it was the way I perceived him—perceived
us
—that signified the real difference between the past and the present. Thirteen-year-old Dylan had dreamed about holding Sawyer’s hand. Sixteen-year-old Dylan had wished she could kiss him. Twenty-two-year-old Dylan wanted to do hell of a lot more than that.

All of those versions loved him in one way or another. Even after all this time apart, there was a tiny flame in my heart that burned for him. But right now that flame didn’t symbolize the kind of love that needed to talk about being in a relationship or even cared to resolve issues from our past. No—that flame wanted to ignite in an entirely different way.

Twenty-four-year-old Sawyer apparently had similar ideas. His hand slid to the back of my neck as he pulled me even closer. “You’ve always had a way of driving me absolutely fucking crazy, Silver. I think I’m finally going to break down and do something I’ve wanted to do for years.”

In most situations with the opposite sex, this was the part when my overly logical brain would start to panic and begin to analyze the situation. It didn’t happen this time. Not with Sawyer. Every thought inhabiting my mind—including all sense of “right” and “wrong”—flew out the window the moment his lips crashed into mine.

There was only one state of being: here and now.
Here
with his arms wrapped around my waist;
now
as his lips hungrily parted mine so that his tongue could taste me. I had been fantasizing about kissing Sawyer for years, but nothing could have prepared me for this. No one—and I mean
no one
—had ever kissed me in such a maddeningly gratifying way.

“Do you know how often I used to imagine biting that bottom lip?” he rasped against my mouth. “How badly I wanted to taste you?”

His lips were hard, demanding, hungry. His tongue engaged mine in a tantalizingly slow game of tease one moment, only to drive me furiously wild the next. He had me guessing; he kept me on my toes. Every single one of my senses was fully engaged. I wanted to touch and taste more of him—all of him.

“Do you have any idea how much self-control it took not to touch you?” He continued his barrage of questions and kisses. His words and his lips were wreaking havoc on my body, mind, and heart.

Why hadn’t I known any of this?

With one hand cradling the back of my head and the other grasping my hip, he shifted me onto his lap. “So much for my restraint, huh?”

Seizing my bottom lip with his teeth, he pulled me even deeper into him, pressing me against his hard body. His mouth skated to my jaw line, then glided down my neck as he sucked, licked, and bit his way to my collarbone, making me want to scream from the pleasurable torture he was putting me through.

At the same time, his hand slid up my side, cupping my breast. I nearly came undone as he began to stroke my nipple through the fabric of my dress, moving his thumb over the hard peak in slow, sensual circles. A low moan escaped my lips, and his mouth moved to mine to drink it in.

“So fucking beautiful,” he groaned into me. “You always were, Sil—”

I shut him up with another ravenous kiss. Winding my arms around his neck, I hastily pulled him into me, for a second forgetting that my back was facing the pool. His body collided with mine, and with nothing to brace us, we tumbled over the edge, breaking the water surface with a soft splash.

Our bodies entwined, we drifted under, not wanting to disengage our lips in an attempt to ascend. I was running out of breath, but it didn’t matter. I had no need for oxygen. Not now. Not with Sawyer. Delirious from our heated encounter, I was convinced that I could live off of him.

Just as my lungs emptied entirely, Sawyer enveloped my waist with his strong arms and kicked his legs, bringing us to the surface. I gasped, inhaling sharply, then dove right back into his lips. Our kisses were infinite; our wet lips eagerly made up for years of unspoken words as our touches bridged countless miles of distance.

Somehow, we found our way to the shallow end of the pool where we could both stand. Sawyer pushed me against the wall, fusing his muscles with my curves as he pinned me to the tiles. There was nothing gentle about the way he thrust his body into mine. Though his eyes overflowed with affection, his actions were an eruption of starved, animalistic desire.

Six years was a long time. And this kiss had been building up for even longer. It was as if we both didn’t want it to end.
Ever
. It was also heaven and hell, because a tiny, rational part of me that was buried somewhere deep inside my madness knew this moment couldn’t last forever. But, right now, I didn’t care. Right now, I just wanted to be with him.

I tugged at the hem of his shirt, yanking the wet, sticky fabric over his broad shoulders. Droplets of water slid down his bare chest, and I followed their path with my hands, rocked to the core by a sudden need to touch every inch of him.

Leaving behind a watery stain on his smooth skin, I slowly trailed my fingertips down Sawyer’s body. My lips joined the journey south, and my tongue lapped away the water from his skin, dipping lower to explore the muscles along his tight stomach. He was perfectly sculpted, possessing an athlete’s body carved by years of hard work and dedication. As I hit the jagged v-cut protruding from the waistband of his jeans, he stiffened, groaning under my touch.

“Holy shit, Silver.”

Before I could even entertain the idea of going any lower, Sawyer seized my waist and pulled me up, claiming my mouth with so much force I was left completely breathless. His kiss was hard, wet, and heart-stopping. It hypnotized me into a trance where the only thing that mattered was this instant in time. And the two of us.

Sawyer’s kisses were a drug and I was an addict. I couldn’t get enough of the pleasure coursing through my veins, filling each crevice of my body. I craved more. No—I
needed
more. I never wanted to lose this high.

“Your. Lips. Are. Delicious,” he panted, accompanying each word with a deep kiss.

A husky moan escaped my throat as his mouth connected with my neck. My tender skin heated and my pulse quickened in response to the rhythm of his tongue.

“Your body is delicious,” he murmured into my ear as he looped a finger under the thin strap of my dress, slowly pulling it down. His tongue glided along the outer edge of my strapless bra, dipping under the fabric to tease my nipple.

“
Oh, God
…” I whimpered, digging my nails into his back. We may have been in the shallow end of the pool, but I felt like I was drowning.

His green eyes filled with a smoky haze as he looked up at me with a wicked grin, clearly pleased with the knowledge that he was tormenting me by utilizing the most torturous tactic in any playbook: delay of gratification.

“Sawyer!” I shut my eyes and wrapped my legs around his waist, releasing an unexpected gasp of pleasure as he pushed himself against me. My thighs parted further from the pressure of his hips, and I could feel every long, hard inch of him through the fabric of his jeans. His arousal only spurred on my own, waking an earth-shattering ache within me that made my legs tremble and my head spin. “
Sawyer
…”

“I’ve missed hearing you say my name.” As my dress hiked up, exposing the barely-there material of my black thong, Sawyer’s hand slid up my thigh to the inside of my hip. “Though I don’t ever remember you
moaning
it.”

His fingers skated along the edge of my lacy underwear, setting me on fire and building up my need for release. In turn, I did exactly what he wanted—moaned his name over and over and
over
again—especially as he slid to my front to rub over the bundle of throbbing nerves between my legs. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched me like this.

Oh, yeah—never.

The water around us masked my wetness, though my short, ragged pants betrayed my excitement. Especially when Sawyer began to grind his hips against mine. His gruff groans accompanied my moans as he continued his perusal of my neck and chest with his lips, simultaneously stroking the tenderness between my legs with his fingers.

The speed and pressure of his hand, combined with the friction of the wet lace rubbing against me was all too much. My insides were coiled into a tight ball, desperately yearning to explode. And he hadn’t even ventured past the barrier of the fabric of my panties.

“
Sawyer
…” Arching my back, my hips instinctively thrust deeper into him. “
Please
.” I needed more of him.

His jaw clenched and a deep growl rumbled within his chest in response. “Goddamit, Silver. Ask me to stop.”

What? Stop?! No!

“Tell me to stop!” he demanded, but his grip tightened and his kisses only grew more possessive.

“What?” Judging by the hardness straining against his jeans and digging into me, he clearly didn’t want to stop. And I
definitely
didn’t want him to stop. “Why?”

“You,” he growled against my mouth. “This. Us.
Shit
…” His lips were flush against mine as he spoke. “I’m getting dangerously close to the point of no return, Silver,” he warned, yet continued to intensify the pressure of his fingers.

“What the fuck am I saying? I passed the point of no return a long time ago. I’m giving you a chance to back out while you still can.” His deep voice resonated through my entire body, sending tiny vibrations down to my very core.

I pressed my lips against his and shook my head, wanting to tell him there was no way in hell I was going to regret anything that happened tonight. But then my stupid brain decided to kick in.

I wasn’t used to this. Any of this—from shutting off my thoughts to the hot, wet make-out session in a pool to…well,
Sawyer
.

Oh, God…what the fuck was I doing? What were we doing?!

“Stop,” I gasped. The word sliced through me like a jagged knife. The raw, aching truth was that we had both been possessed by the past. This couldn’t actually lead anywhere
.