Taboo (10 page)

“This is much better than th
e back of my car.” He kisses me, his fingers already exploring my skin. “Although, no complaints.”

“No,” I say.
“None.”

I let him crawl on top
of me; I let him take the lead. It feels right. It is right, because for once this isn’t about me. He sets the pace when he undresses me and I follow his motions. We peel off each other’s clothes. His hoodie and my tank go first, then his sweats and my shorts. Carter sits on his knees above me, fingering the lace strap of my bra when I say, “Can I tell you something?”

He
nods, eyes half-glazed by lust. Some things never change.

I prop up on my elbows, which may not be the best
decision because my cleavage becomes even bigger and his eyes are glued to my chest, but I’m preparing to say something really big and I’m not sure how much of it I want him to retain.

“I never thought I’d be here. Like
right here, in my bed with you,” I say. “I saw you that first day I brought the girls to the pool and I thought, ‘Holy shit, who is that?’ and it only took a minute to hear the moms and kids and anyone else around talking about you. Carter Hightower. Lifeguard, athlete, graduating senior. Talented, good looking, confident, blah, blah, blah. All I saw was this kid who was too freaking hot for his own damn good.” I touch his chin. “God, Carter, you are so beautiful.”

He looks a little uncomfortable, so I let him kiss me, but I can tell he gets what I’m saying because his kiss is sweet and soft.
“So, after a couple of awkward moments between us, I decided to go for it. Take a shot. Why not? All you could say was no, right?”

He laughs. “Yeah, there is no way I was ever saying no to you.”

“But you could have.” His fingers tug at my bra, and his touch makes me burn. He’s being all slow about it which is different, but nice and I start to ramble. “I’ve  watched you all summer. Especially when you’re on the diving board and you do all your flips and complicated dives. You have such a sense of peace about you when you’re up there—or anywhere near the water. And I love to watch you push yourself. You’re so strong. Not just physically, but mentally as well. You don’t seek perfection; you’re trying to make your body and mind reach greater limits.”

He stops and rests his forehead on mine. “Why do you say that?”

“Because even though you’re flying though the air, soaring like a bird, and it’s pretty, there’s also a sense of danger and wildness beneath your movements. Sometimes you’re almost feral.” I tug the top of his head. “You never stick the landing. It’s always messy. Your arms and legs fling out of control, like you decide at the last minute to do something spontaneous. It’s like when we do this.” The whole time I’m talking, he’s continued to undress me. Pulling off my panties, unclasping my bra. His cock presses into me. “Everything is measured until we get to the good part—to the ending. Then it’s like the beast has arrived and strips all sense of control away from you.”

He runs his fingers over my flesh, dipping between my legs. He kisses my neck and ches
t before lingering on my breasts, smiling around the nipple.

He’s adorable and I fight to catch my breath and say, “That lack of control is why a woman my age is in bed with a man your age. Everything in my life is about control and doing the right thing and getting a job and a degree and paying my bills. Finding a husband. Planning for babies. You’re the opposite of all that. It’s why I crave your body and your skin and your touch.”

H
e pushes in me, slow and deliberate. I still have things to say, but now they come out disjointed, because he’s moving deep and nice. “You’re wild now, Carter, but you are so much more than that. You are really, really awesome. And you are going to do such great things in your life.” I say all this while he fucks me, no, no, not fucking, making love. While he loves me. “But this is why we aren’t right for each other. My time for spontaneity is over. I’ve got obligations and responsibilities and a failed relationship hanging around my neck.”

I tip his chin up with my finger, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “
Thank you for giving me one last summer to be young and desired and free.”

We stare for a moment, understanding one another
, and just when I think I have him figured out he pulls out and flips me over on my stomach. “On your knees,” he directs. Shocked, I obey, scrambling to my knees. He’s close behind me and I arch my back, positioning my ass between his palms. I grab the headboard with both hands and ready myself for him. He makes me wait, only running a hand down my spine. Seconds or minutes, I don’t even know how long it is until I start to whine and pant, wanting him inside.

“Carter.”

He slips two fingers between my legs, which only causes me to buck with desire. It’s not what I want. I push back harder until I press against his stomach.

“Carter,” I say again, looking over my shoulder to see his face. He’s gazing down at me. “Please, fuck me. I’m dying here.”

“Don’t rush me,” he says quietly. His gray eyes meet mine. After another excruciating pause, he finally gives me what I want, slamming into me so hard the headboard slaps the wall.

“Oh,” I
gasp, and he runs his palm across my nipples, sparking a fire across my body. He pushes in again. And again.

This is e
ons different from that first time at the pool when I had to encourage him. “I know this is it, Ruthie,” he grunts in my ear. “I know this is all I’m getting.” His words stab my heart while he penetrates my body. I let him have his way.

His movements are f
ull blown lust and want. Pounding in me so hard that the headboard creates its own rhythm that keeps in time with my voice, my chant, “Oh god, oh god, oh god…”

My elbows start to shake and Carter’s hand wraps around my stomach
, holding me up. Holding me tight. I feel my body clamp around him and I come fiercely. He slams into me twice more, filling my insides.

Sweaty and
breathing hard, Carter eases out of me, tossing the condom in the trash can by the bed.  I collapse on my forearms, unable to function properly, because holy shit.

“Holy shit,” I say, w
ith a shaky voice when I finally lay on my back. I’m coated in a thin layer of sweat. “Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

“I had this amazing teacher,
” he says, staring at the ceiling.

I raise an eyebrow.
“Well, I guess my contribution to humanity is complete.”

Carter
looking at me with furrowed brows and shakes his head. “You’re one crazy chick, you know that?”

But he obviously doesn’t care, because we’re
doing this thing and we’ve barely finished and I feel him trying to do it again.

“I know
.”

I get the feeling he may like crazy.

Chapter
21

“I saw him today.”

“Again?” Finley stirs her coffee with one of those little plastic sticks. She has on a blue scarf that matches her eyes.

“Yeah.
I was in the library. I ducked behind the periodicals. No one goes in there.”

“Chicken.”
She sighs and takes a sip of her drink. “Did he look good?”

“Amazing.”

“Even in winter clothes?”

“I mean, he’s less naked and you can’t see all that pretty brown skin, but yeah…”

“So he didn’t see you?”

I shake my head.
I’ve seen him a dozen times around town since last summer. I’ve managed to keep away from him no matter how much I would like to see him. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Summer fling
, girl. Summer. Fling.” She rolls her eyes at me. “And you thought he was too into you.”

“I’m not into him,” I argue. I just want him.
Every day. Every other guy. Every thought goes back to him. It’s stupid. He’s halfway through his freshman year and I’m twenty- nine and it’s been long enough for me to move on.

We hadn’t spoken since he left my house that night.
I un-friended him on Facebook. I deleted his number. We needed a fresh start and I thought that would be that. I didn’t realize how often I’d see him around campus or in town. I had no idea that we’d go to the same bars or end up in the library at the same day. He’s easy to spot. Tall and graceful, I’d recognize his body anywhere. His laugh carries across the crowded bars. His confident swagger unmistakable.

The worst times were when
I saw him with someone else, possibly a girlfriend. I never got close enough to find out, but at least once I spotted him drunkenly walking home from a bar, his arm slung around a pretty brunette.

Seeing that hurt more than it should’ve.

It didn’t matter though, he was only doing what I’d told him to do and as long as I continued to avoid him everything would be fine. Eventually it would get better.

“Remember that time you told m
e you wanted to have his babies,” Finley asks.

“Yes, jeez!”
I rub my eyes wishing his face from my memory. “I don’t even want babies. I just want
his
babies. Seriously, Finley, whoever gets to carry his sperm is like a goddess among women.”

“So hung up on him,” she makes a tsk noise with her tongue. I kind of want to punch her.

“We left things in a really great place between us. I would never take that back. He looks like he moved on pretty well. Just like I wanted.”  And I did want that. And I really wasn’t hung up on him.  I only felt like this when I saw him. Or when I was with another guy that didn’t measure up.

She nods. “You’
re right. That was very mature of you.”

“One of us had to be.” I warm my fingers on my mug.

“True, but no one ever said
I
had to be mature.”

“What?”

She leans toward me and whispers, “I’m tired of all your moping. You miss him. Deal with it.” Her eyes flick over my shoulder. “Hi, Carter!” she says, jumping out of her seat and giving him a hug. “Look Ruthie, it’s Carter.”

I turn and he’s there.
Towering over me, broad and clothed. The first thing I notice is his skin—at least the minimal parts I can see. It’s paler but he still carries a brownish color which must be his natural skin tone. His gray eyes pop against his charcoal sweater. I force myself to speak. “Hi.”

“Hey,” his voice is still deep, but it’s di
fferent. More solid. I appraise the thick layer of stubble covering his chin. If I thought he was a man before I was wrong. Aqua-man had transformed over the last eight months.

Finley
scuttles away but not before offering an explanation about seeing Carter on campus and how it was great to see him and how my name came up and then she’s giving him her seat. She’s gone. Damn her.

He leans over the chair, hands against the back of the seat. I can tell t
he overgrown puppy phase is gone. He’s graceful and sleek outside the water just like he used to be inside.

“How have you been? “
I ask, because I’m the adult here and I can do this.

“Pretty good, you?”

“Okay. School’s tough.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Still pre-law
?” I want to take a drink but I’m afraid my hands will shake and give away how nervous I am.

A line appears between his eyes and he nods. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. Is that a surprise?”

“
No. Well, maybe. I remember a lot of things about last summer. So much that sometimes I think I made it up.” His eyes fix on mine. Like he’s making sure I’m real. His words catch me off guard and I have no idea what to say. 

“It was good seeing you, Ruthie.”
He straightens his back and looks toward the door.

My heart cracks in my chest, but I smile
because this is how I want it. “You, too. Take care, okay?”

Carter gives me a tight nod and walks out the door.

*

Spring finally arrives and even though
it’s not that warm out, I push fashion sense by dressing in shorts and a T-shirt. His T-shirt. The blue one I loved on him so much. I stole it one day toward the end of summer, when things were still good between us. He acted mad, but he let me have it anyway. I pair it with a hoodie and thick wool socks but it’s nice to break away from the winter.

Living over the garage has worked well this school year. It’s given me the quiet
of living away from campus but also a sense of home. The situation works for both of us and tonight, like many other nights, I ate dinner with the family. Once the girls are tucked into bed, I settle back into my apartment, focusing on reading a textbook.

I’m ready for a break
when there’s a knock at the door. Hopefully, it’s Betsy with cookies or maybe some wine.

“One minute,” I call.  My phone buzzes in my pocket before I reach the door.
It’s a text.

Don’t be mad.