With This Heart (33 page)

I felt weightless sitting on top of his kitchen counter. His voice carried hints of surprise, elation,
love
.

Then he swapped the topic on me in a flash. “How’s your health? Is your heart okay?” he asked, crossing his arms and studying me intently.

“
It’s finally good, Beck. I’ve been on the same medication and dosage for eleven months. My immune system is as good as it can be while I take the medication. It won’t be easy, but I already have a cardiologist up here and it’s my top priority. I have an appointment with him tomorrow actually.”

He nodded and closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply. Had he been worried about my health over the past year?

“
Now it’s my top priority, too. I’ll drive you to your appointment tomorrow if you’ll let me.” His eyes flickered open again. They were a darker shade of hazel than usual. He stared right at me as he crossed the kitchen and came to stand in front of me. His hands drifted up my knees and over my thighs. His thumb ran along the inseam of my jeans.

I mashed my lips together, unable to look away from his exploring fingers. With a gentle tug, he pulled my thighs apart so that he could step in between them. My hips were right on the edge of the counter, so when he stepped forward our bodies pressed together.

“
I’d like that. Then maybe we can see if Sammy wants to get lunch or something,” I asked, hopeful.

“
Sounds good. My friend, James, just got back into town for classes, so I could invite him, too,” he answered. He was still running his fingers along the inseam of my jeans, making it more and more impossible to concentrate on the here and now. His hands trailed up my jeans and traced along the bare skin that touched the hem. My stomach flip flopped and I felt my skin flush in response. His touch flooded me with warmth I hadn’t felt since he left.

“
Stay the night with me,” he murmured, gently unbuttoning my jeans. By that point, I was beyond comprehension of things that didn’t entail his touch on my skin. I’d sleep on the ground outside if it meant he wouldn’t stop.

“
Okay, but no sleeping,” I grinned.

He chuckled and then grasped either side of my cheeks to tilt my mouth toward his. “Okay, no sleeping, Abby Mae.”

I closed my eyes and pressed my lips to his. A glimpse of the old Abby, the pre-Beck Abby, flashed before my eyes and deep awareness spun through my mind.

My life had taken quite a few sharp turns in the past few years. I’d prepared myself for the end and had come to terms with the abrupt conclusion life seemed determined to provide for me.

And then my beeper went off.

That archaic piece of technology vibrated on my night stand, telling me that I had a donor.

Suddenly, I had an abundance of life and no idea what I wanted to do with it. Being in Boston, in college, was a surreal feeling. I’d been given a second chance. A chance to make dreams and see them through. A chance to make mistakes and fight to make them right.

But it didn’t always feel that way. When I first had the transplant, there was this immense pressure weighing me down at every turn. To prove I was worthy of receiving the heart, I felt like I had to live every single moment to the fullest. If I wasn’t being the best, living the most, screaming the loudest, then I wasn’t doing Colby’s heart justice.

I was living for everyone around me. Caroline, Colby, my parents. I couldn’t breathe for fear that the decisions I was making weren’t the right ones.

I couldn’t ignore the nagging questions in the back of my mind:

Are the lives of some people more valuable than those of others? Had the world lost more from Colby’s death than it had gained from my life?

Is value based simply on one person’s impact on the world around them? How many friends we leave behind in death?

A year ago I thought I knew the answer to those questions. But now I realize that no one has the capacity to judge the value of a human life.

We all value different things and life left out a conversion chart
on purpose.

We aren’t supposed to know the answer.

I couldn’t live for Colby or Caroline any longer.

The fact is, I was given a heart. I was given this gift of life that few receive and I had to decide how
I
wanted to use it. Not how others would deem noble.

So I finally stripped away the fear and anxiety, and suddenly life became crystal clear. I wanted to write. I wanted to create stories like the ones I’d written in my journal. I wanted to be with Beck, and I wanted to wake up each morning and appreciate the feeling of my heart beating beneath my scarred chest.

BECK

I couldn’t believe she was finally back. The awkward, beautiful, unathletic girl that stole my heart when I was trying to steal hers. She looked so innocent perched up on my kitchen counter. I couldn’t keep my distance from her. On some level I thought I should play it cool, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. She’d kicked my ass last year when she told me to leave. I’d fought with her about it for a week, and when she brought it up again the day before I was scheduled to leave, I couldn’t handle it. There’s only so much a guy’s ego can handle, and she crushed mine under her tiny frame as if I was wearing my heart on my sleeve.

Who knows, maybe I was.

I can’t help it around her
.

Her jade green eyes swam with desire as my hands drifted up over her slim stomach. I tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it onto the kitchen floor behind me. The sexy moan she didn’t think I could hear told me how much she approved of each action.

“
Abby…”

I stood back and stared at her for a moment, taking in her breasts hidden beneath a pink bra. I bent low and scooped her golden hair behind her shoulders so that I’d have better access to her chest. Her beautifully imperfect scar sat just where it had the last time I’d had a chance to be with her. I traced my fingers and lips along her collarbone, down the center of her ribcage, and around her scar in a testament to her innocent sexiness. That was the thing about Abby. She had no fucking clue what she did to me. She thought her Keds and girl-next-door style kept her safe, but in reality it just begged me to tease her more.

It drove me wild to see a side of her that no one else had the chance to witness.

“
I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured as my lips pressed against the small swell of her breast, just beneath her scar. Her words could undo me like no one else’s. To know that she was here, healthy, and happy…I shoved the thought away and pulled her close to me. My hands wrapped around her hair as I forced her lips to mine. There were too many layers left between us. She was clinging to my shirt as my hands unclasped her bra. I needed her here and now. Our movements were urgent and hurried. Nails on skin, hands tugging off clothing. She was breathing hard and I could see her chest rising and falling in a quick rhythm.

With one hand I pulled my shirt off as my other wrapped around her as soon as the shirt was gone. She was so small in my arms, but she felt exactly like I’d remembered.

“
Beck, not on the counter,” she murmured, her lips dancing across my ear when she moved her mouth. “I feel like a knife is going to stab me in the butt or something.” Her sentence started out lusty, but by the end I couldn’t help but laugh. We both fell into hysterics and I lifted her up and away from any sharp utensils.

“
Your choice: the bed or the futon.” Our lips were pressed together and I could feel her smile against my mouth.

“
You would have a futon.”

My head tilted back far enough that I could look down at her.

Her smile was still there, just like mine had been since I saw that sign on the table in the union. I’d resigned myself to the fact that we were over. I thought she saw me as a summer fling, a guy to take her mind off the sadness surrounding those few weeks.

“
How about against the wall?” she asked, pulling me out of my reverie. Her words were quiet and unsure, adding to her allure.

My feet started shuffling us backwards. “Like we almost did that first time?” I asked. I pressed her back against the wall and angled her so that our bodies met perfectly with her legs straddled around me. She was warmth, the type of warmth you had to earn. The type of warmth that sears your skin so that for as long as you live,
your body remembers what it was like to be close to her, to be buried inside of her.

“
Or the time in Marfa,” she mentioned, her jade green eyes clouding over with lust. I peeled my eyes down her pearly white skin. She was so soft and flushed with arousal, it was hard to decide if the appeal of making love to her against the wall was better than taking our time on my bed. Maybe we’d do that afterward.

“
Tell me you love me, Abby,” I demanded, kissing under her chin and down her neck. She arched away from the wall, pressing her skin against my lips for more. My mouth pressed against the chain of her locket and I smiled at the memory of the flea market.

“
Beck,” she began to answer, but I pulled one of my hands away from her hip to open the locket. I wanted to see if she’d replaced the old couple inside. The tiny hinge was hard to open, but she didn’t rush me. The rising and falling of her chest pressed against my hand as I pulled the tinted metal open.

My body stilled.

Tucked inside were two pieces of paper; one on either side. The first had my name, written small and in cursive. The other held a small outline of Texas with tiny hearts over specific areas. She’d drawn a thin red line to connect the hearts. It was hard to see when it was drawn so small, but I tugged it closer to my face and then grinned when I realized what I was looking at.

Each heart was drawn over a city we’d visited a year ago.

She’d mapped out our trip and kept it in the locket over her heart.

Her hand wrapped around my fingers, tightening my hold on the tarnished locket. “I love you with this heart.” She tipped her head forward and pressed a kiss to my lips. Then she moved her hand and pointed to her scar, to the beating heart that lay beneath, “and
with
this
heart
.”

To my family for all of their unconditional support.

Mom, you are my first round beta reader and my books would never feel complete without your stamp of approval. You believed in Abby and Beck’s story before anyone else.

Lance, thank you for all of your support. Thank you for reading and tweaking this book. You helped bring these characters to life, and there is quite a bit of your personality within Beck.

Thank you to all my beta readers: TK Rapp, Stacey Lynn, Brittainy C. Cherry, Jennifer Beach, and Cassidy Cayman. Your feedback was wonderful and truly, truly appreciated!

Thank you to my amazing editor over at
Taylor K.’s Editing Services
. This book might have never been published without your prodding, ha-ha.

Thank you to all of my fellow indie authors (within Author Support 101 & Write Club). I don’t think I’d have the energy to write without the help from all of you ladies. Thank you for providing support and a sense of community within a crazy world!

Thank you to Gabby for your proofreading magic.

Thank you to everyone who accepted an ARC edition of this book and for giving Abby & Beck a chance.

Thank you to every awesome blogger that has pushed to get this story into the hands of readers. I couldn’t do it without you guys.

Other Books by R.S. Grey:

Behind His Lens

Twenty-three year old model Charley Whitlock built a quiet life for herself after disaster struck four years ago. She hides beneath her beautiful mask, never revealing her true self to the world... until she comes face-to-face with her new photographer — sexy, possessive Jude Anderson. It's clear from the first time she meets him that she's playing by his rules. He says jump, she asks how high. He tells her to unzip her cream Dior gown; she knows she has to comply. But what if she wants him to take charge outside of the studio as well?

Jude Anderson has a strict "no model" dating policy. But everything about Charley sets his body on fire.

When a tropical photo shoot in Hawaii forces the stubborn pair into sexually charged situations, their chemistry can no longer be ignored. They’ll have to decide if they’re willing to break their rules and leave the past behind or if they’ll stay consumed by their demons forever.

Will Jude persuade Charley to give in to her deepest desires?

**Recommended for ages 17+ due to language and sexual situations.**

Available on:
AMAZON

Scoring Wilder

Coming in Summer 2014
 

The soccer world’s bad boy…

is her new coach.

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