8. Ellie

ellie

. . .

Inside the bathroom, I scrubbed my teeth with enough force to wear off the enamel and stared at my face in the mirror—flushed cheeks, bright eyes, lips stained a little from the wine. My chest rose and fell with quick, heavy breaths.

It wasn’t fair, how he could still get to me. He didn’t play fair.

Not when we were kids. Not tonight. And certainly not in that closet.

I could still smell the cedar.

Scowling, I spit and rinsed out my mouth, wiping my lips with the back of my hand.

Then I closed my eyes, remembering how he’d dropped to his knees in front of me.

My breath caught.

I was scared—not that Gianni would break the rules, but that he wouldn’t even have to. The truth was, I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted it so badly, I could hardly stand it—and I hated myself for it.

Why should I want him to kiss me when he’d done nothing but torment me my entire life? When he’d made a sport out of kissing girls at school? When he obviously didn’t care about anything or anyone but himself? Why should a guy like that be the one I secretly dreamed about? The one I thought about at night? The one I wished more than anything would whisper to me in the dark?

And speaking of dark.

He brushed one hand over the curve of my left hip.

He touched the inside of my right ankle and slowly dragged his fingertips up the inside of my leg. When he passed my knee, I trembled, whether in fear or anticipation I wasn’t sure, but his hand stopped short of my inner thigh.

My shirt was slightly cropped, and I could feel his breath on my stomach—and then his lips. He planted a row of three devastatingly soft and gentle kisses across my belly.

Every inch of my skin was tingling. I almost dropped the act, fell to my knees and crushed my mouth to his right then and there.

But I didn’t. I didn’t.

He rose to his feet and moved behind me, one hand skimming across my stomach where his lips had just been. With the other hand, he moved my hair aside, and kissed the back of my neck.

My entire body shivered—I couldn’t help it. I almost expected him to laugh, but he didn’t. Keeping one palm on my stomach, his lips moved from the back of my neck to the side of my throat, his tongue warm and soft on my skin. My head tilted to one side without my permission. His arm tightened around my waist. My heart was beating out of control, and my head was spinning. I licked my lips.

Then I turned to face him, breathless, helpless, desperate. “Okay,” I whispered. “Kiss me.”

His lips were so close. All he had to do was drop his mouth to mine. All I had to do was rise on tiptoe.

“Ten second warning!” came the shout from outside the door.

“You want me to kiss you?”

“Nine! Eight! Seven!” Our friends began chanting.

“Yes.” I could feel the tension in his body—he wanted it too. I know he did.

“Six! Five! Four!”

“Gianni,” I said, more impatiently. “Kiss me. Hurry up.”

But instead of putting his mouth on mine, he let me go and stepped back.

“Three! Two! One!” The door opened, light streaming in.

I raced out of the closet and went straight for the bathroom, where I stared at myself in the mirror, furious about the way I’d given in—given him exactly what he’d wanted. Now he’d probably tell everyone about how he made me want to kiss him and then wouldn’t do it. They’d all laugh at me.

“Ellie!” Winnie knocked on the door. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” My voice sounded surprisingly normal. I took a couple breaths and let her in.

“What the hell happened in there?” She was breathless with excitement.

“What did Gianni say happened?”

“Nothing. He just came out and started playing air hockey again.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “So what happened?”

“Nothing.” I looked in the mirror and fussed with my hair. Adjusted my skirt. “We argued and then nothing.”

She crossed her arms. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“He didn’t even kiss you?”

I shook my head as mortification at being rejected pulsed through me. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t even tell my best friend. “Nope.”

And now here I was, alone in the bathroom at the Pineview Motel, reliving it.

The knock on the door made me jump.

“Ellie?”

“Go away.”

“You can’t stay in there all night.”

“Yes, I can. I’ll sleep in the tub.”

“I have to use the bathroom.”

I swung the door open and swept past him, careful not to let any part of my body touch his. “Fine. I’m going to bed.”

He watched as I stuffed all the empty chip bags and candy wrappers into the trash and the uneaten snacks back into the plastic bag.

“Do you want this?” Without looking at him, I held up the toothbrush and toothpaste he’d bought at the gas station.

“Oh. Yeah.” He came toward the bed, but instead of risking our hands touching, I dropped the items onto the mattress. Exhaling, he picked them up and went into the bathroom.

As I was plugging my phone into the charger, I saw that Winnie had texted me.

I’m dying. Can you talk?

Dropping onto the bed with my back to the bathroom, I listened carefully for a moment and heard the water running. He was probably brushing his teeth, but I didn’t think that gave me time for a call.

Not right now. I’ll call you ASAP.

But what is HAPPENING?!

We were doing fine until he brought up the past. Then I got mad because clearly I enjoy hanging on to this grudge with all my might. Pretty sure I need therapy.

Or sex. You could take out all your anger on his body. I bet it would feel good. A blizzard bang. It wouldn’t even count.

I frowned, even though part of me wondered if maybe she was right. Maybe a blizzard entitled you to make dubious sexual decisions in order to stay warm and/or alleviate boredom. But Gianni?

NO WAY. I HATE HIM.

Boo. Call me when you can and stay safe.

Behind me, the bathroom door opened. With my back to him, I plugged in my phone. Then I folded my arms over my chest, refusing to look at him.

“Ellie, come on. What is it you want me to say? I’m sorry for making you want to kiss me when we were seventeen? Fine. I’m sorry. But you started it.”

“Me!” Outraged, I whirled around and faced him. “I didn’t start it! You brought up the seven minutes night!”

He moved closer to the bed. “I meant back then. You were always too good for me, you wouldn’t even look in my direction. And the first thing you said to me in that closet was, I don’t want you to kiss me .”

“I didn’t!” Because he had the advantage of height, I jumped onto the bed so I could feel bigger than him. “And you want to know why?”

“Because of the dunk tank?”

“No! Because I was scared.”

He looked perplexed. “Of what?”

“Liking it too much. Wanting you that way. Being kissed by you because you had no choice, then being laughed at and tossed aside.”

“Why would I have done that?”

“To humiliate me! The same reason you refused to kiss me after you did all that stuff to change my mind.”

He looked genuinely surprised. “I didn’t do it to humiliate you, Ellie. I did it to get back at you.”

“For what—the pies?”

“No.” He took another step toward the bed, so close I could have reached out and grabbed him. Or slapped him. I was strongly considering both. One of his shoulders rose. “I guess because I wanted you to know how it felt to want something and not get it.”

“Ha!” I was bursting with so much shock and indignation, I had to jump up and down on the bed to burn some of it off. “I think you have it backwards, Gianni. You were the one who got away with everything! You were the one who could have anybody—and you did! Because you were the one everybody wanted. You still are—look at what happened tonight!”

“Ellie, stop.” He grabbed my arm, but I wrenched it free and kept jumping. “You don’t understand what I’m saying.”

I couldn’t stop. It felt too good to get everything out. “I understand perfectly! The world is Gianni Lupo’s playground.”

He chuckled at that. “Listen. You are welcome on my playground any time you want. You always were—that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Yes, I messed around with a lot of girls in high school, but I thought you were hot as fuck and I wanted to kiss you that night. I was scared to let you know how much.”

“Bullshit!”

“Oh yeah? Let me tell you something—I didn’t even pull your name out of that hat. I pulled someone else’s.”

I stopped bouncing. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Whose name did you actually pull?”

“Fuck if I know. But not yours. I lied and read your name off so I’d finally get to make out with you. I didn’t think I stood a chance otherwise.”

I jerked my chin at him, although my heart was pounding. “You didn’t.”

“But you wanted it.” That look was back in his eyes—the one that spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E. “You wanted me.”

I shrugged, wishing for the millionth time he wasn’t so hot. “For those ten seconds. Yeah, I did. I wondered what all the fuss was about.”

“Do you still?”

My heart stopped. “What?”

“Do you still want to know what all the fuss was about?”

“No,” I snapped, although my heart had started beating again at a speed that was highly unsafe for these conditions. “You’re too late.”

He reached for me, but I shrieked and leaped off the opposite side of the bed. Laughing, he vaulted the mattress and came after me, and I ran around the foot of the bed, squealing and panting. He rounded the bed too, and I hopped onto the mattress again, scrambling to the other side once more as he continued to chase me.

He caught me around the waist on the third lap, flipping me onto my back. Breathless and sweaty, I beat my fists against his chest. “Get off me, you scoundrel!”

“No.” Somehow he got my wrists in his grip and pinioned them to the mattress above my shoulders. “I want another chance. For years, I’ve been kicking myself for fucking up in that closet.”

“Good.”

“I let pride win, when I should have just gone with my gut.”

“And what was your gut telling you to do?” My voice was low and breathy now, and my eyes dropped to his mouth.

“The same thing you were telling me to do. This.” He crushed his lips to mine.

The kiss was hard and deep and demanding, and sent shock waves reverberating throughout my body. He opened his mouth and slanted his head and let his tongue move between my lips. My hands were still locked in place next to my ears, but my body responded by arching toward his, and I wrapped one leg around his hips, trying to pull him closer.

I kissed him back like I wanted it, like I wasn’t ashamed, like I wasn’t even afraid—and maybe I wasn’t. I was mad about it, but I had no fear.

The realization struck me hard, as hard as the bulge in Gianni’s pants that was pressed between my legs. He began to rock rhythmically against me, and a sound escaped my throat, a muffled cry of need and frustration. I wanted him closer. I wanted his hands on my skin. I wanted that mouth on the back of my neck again, that tongue on my throat.

A strangled moan worked itself free from Gianni’s mouth too, and he picked up his head. “Fuck,” he growled. “This could get out of control really easily.”

“I don’t care,” I panted. “Let it.”

“You’re sure? You drank a lot of wine kind of fast, and I don’t?—”

“Gianni.” I thumped his ass with my heel. “Don’t fuck this up a second time. You’re never going to have this chance again.”

“You’re not drunk? You really want this?”

“I’m not drunk.” I lifted my head and stroked his bottom lip with my tongue. “And I really want this.”

“Sex can ruin a friendship, you know.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re not friends.”

I only caught the boyish grin on his face for a second before he was kissing me again. A moment later, he stood up and started to unbutton his shirt. “Wait,” I said, getting to my knees and placing both hands on his chest. “Do you really want this?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve wanted this every single night for six months. Probably farther back than that. You’ve always been the unattainable girl of my dreams, Ellie.”

I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Then let me.”

Quickly my fingers worked their way down the row of buttons, and I enjoyed the way his chest was expanding and contracting so fast. I pushed the shirt down his arms and it fell to the floor. Beneath it he wore a plain white T-shirt, and I grabbed the hem and yanked it over his head.

When he was shirtless in front of me, I couldn’t help myself—I gasped. Then I put my hands on his warm, smooth skin and ran them over his chest, down his shoulders and biceps, up his stomach, his muscular abs rippling beneath my touch. He was beautiful, more beautiful than anybody I’d ever been with, and I had to know what that golden skin would feel like against my lips.

I pressed my mouth to his chest right beneath his collarbone, and just like he’d done years ago in that closet, planted a row of kisses right to left. When I reached his sternum, a light patch of hair tickled my lips. His hands reached beneath the sweater I wore and slid up the outside of my thighs to my hips. His fingers dug into my flesh as my mouth continued to travel across his chest.

Desire was running hot through my veins, and previously unthinkable urges overwhelmed me. I caressed his nipple with my tongue, circling it, licking the taut peak slowly and deliciously. Gratified by the groan of pleasure it elicited from his throat, I did the same thing to the other one, sliding one hand between his legs and rubbing the thick, hard bulge through his jeans.

I kissed my way up to his neck and breathed deeply—the scent that had stirred me up in the car filled my head again, making me dizzy with lust. I reached for the button on his jeans. After slipping it through the hole, I dragged the zipper down and slipped my hand inside, wrapping my fingers around his cock as I stroked his throat with my tongue.

He groaned even louder, easing his hands inside the edges of my panties and squeezing my bare ass. “Fuck,” he rasped as I worked my fist up and down his shaft. “ Fuck , that feels good.”

I teased the crown with my fingertips, brushing the tip with my thumb, pleased when I felt the droplets of slick wet warmth beneath my touch.

Gianni grunted in frustration and yanked at the sweater. “I want this off.”

I raised my arms, and he whipped it over my head, throwing it aside. I wore nothing beneath it, and his eyes popped. His palms immediately covered my breasts. I worked my fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth back to mine, craving his kiss again. His thumbs teased my nipples, and I arched my back as electric pulses hummed along every nerve ending.

He slipped one hand between my thighs, rubbing me slowly but firmly over my black satin panties. My hips rocked over his hand instinctively, my underwear growing damp. I widened my knees slightly, hoping he’d understand the invitation—and he did.

His fingers worked beneath the satin, and my breath caught as he teased me open, gently sliding one of those talented fingers inside me. My hands fisted in his hair as the tension in my body pulled tighter. “Yes,” I whispered against his lips. “Yes.”

Wrapping one arm around my shoulders and the other circling my knees, he tipped me onto my back and pulled my panties down my legs. After tossing them to the floor, he stood up to remove the rest of his clothes, hopping on one foot when his jeans stubbornly clung to his legs. I laughed when he finally wrested them from his body and pounced on me, covering my body with his and burying his face in my neck.

“Wait, turn off the lights,” I said, giggling as his tongue tickled my throat.

“No fucking way.” He picked up his head and looked down at me. “If I’m never going to have this chance again, I’m not about to fumble around in the dark. I’m going to see every inch of your body so I can live on this memory forever.”

I laughed. “Stop it. Don’t make jokes.”

“I’m serious.”

“Then how come you’re smiling?”

“Oh come on.” His grin was playful. “You can’t blame me for that. I’ve got a former Cherry Princess naked in my bed at the Pineview Motel. Fucking pinch me.”

I reached down and pinched his butt. “How’s that?”

“It’s good,” he said, moving his mouth down my chest. “It’s so fucking good.”

“Can we at least get under the covers? It’s still chilly in here.”

“I promise I will keep you warm tonight,” he said, but he worked the sheets and blankets down and slipped in beside me, pulling them to our shoulders.

“I believe you.” I rolled to my back and cradled his head in my arms as he lowered his mouth to my breasts, sucking one swollen pink tip and then the other, sending delicious little darts of lust straight between my legs. On his side next to me, he slid one hand up my inner thigh. Anxious to feel his fingers inside me again, I opened my legs wider, but his palm moved up past my hip, across my stomach—making it quiver—and down the other leg.

“Don’t tease me,” I whispered, lifting my hips.

“I’m just trying to go slow.” He circled my nipple with the tip of his tongue. “The way you like it.” But he dipped one finger inside me, then slowly stroked my clit with his warm, wet fingertip.

I moaned as the sensations swept through my body, liquid and luscious. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt anything as good as Gianni’s mouth on my breasts while his hand worked magic between my thighs.

And then he moved on top of me, sliding down my body, kissing his way down my belly until his tongue replaced his fingers on my clit. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe as he stroked me, gently at first, then building the intensity with soft little flicks and artful swirls and clever tricks that had me clawing at the sheets in delightful agony. Then he slipped his fingers inside me—two this time—and the tension in my body ratcheted up with an intensity that nearly made me scream. Something inside me was closing around his fingers as he nibbled and sucked and pushed in deeper.

“Gianni,” I whimpered. At least, I tried to say his name. I wanted to. But my mind was a jumble of crisscrossed wires and the signals were flying too fast for me to think straight. My body took over, my hips flexing, my insides tightening, my breath caught, my skin on fire, my vision going black, until everything burst wide open in wondrous pulses of pleasure and light, my core muscles clenching around Gianni’s fingers. I cried out with every beat of pleasure.

I felt and heard his moan as he delivered and devoured my orgasm at the same time. His breathing was ragged as he tore his mouth off me and moved up my body. “Did you fake that?”

“Are you kidding?”

He gave me his cocky grin. “Don’t move.”

I stared at him in disbelief as he got off the bed and went over to his bag. Move? I wasn’t even sure my legs would hold me up.

He rummaged around in his duffel bag, found what he was looking for, and returned to bed. Kneeling on the mattress, he tore the condom wrapper open with his teeth and rolled it on while I watched, breathless with desire and anticipation. He was so fucking gorgeous—from his messy hair to those blue eyes, to the broad chest to the six-pack stomach to the tall, thick cock that was hard for me .

The thought had me shaking with the unbelievable thrill of it.

But I barely had time to enjoy the moment because Gianni was back between my thighs in a heartbeat, teasing my clit with the tip of his cock. His eyes glittered with hunger as he watched, his sensual mouth slightly open, his breathing hard and fast.

Then he was easing inside me, and I caught my bottom lip between my teeth as my body stretched and adjusted to his size. He lowered his chest over mine, the weight and warmth of it reassuring. I wrapped my legs around him, closing my eyes as he began to move—deep, slow strokes that told me he’d paid attention during our conversation earlier.

It was totally infuriating.

“I’m so mad right now,” I whispered in his ear as my hands slid down his back.

He laughed. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” I grabbed his ass like I’d thought about a hundred times before. “How dare you feel so good? How dare you make me come so hard? How dare you be generous and patient when I was convinced all along you’d be selfish and greedy?”

He paused, buried deep, and looked down at me. “I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought.”

Uncertainty flickered inside me, and I wondered if he was right, especially when he put his lips on mine and kissed away any smart-ass remark I might have made. In fact, he kissed me so deeply and passionately, I started to worry I was losing my grasp on what this was.

“Gianni,” I whispered. “I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and like you, okay? So maybe you could just be selfish for a minute? Just fuck me like you don’t care? Better yet, fuck me like you hate me.”

“Jesus.” He looked down at me. “Say that again,” he demanded.

“What?”

“Tell me how you want it.”

This time I put some venom into the words. “Fuck me like you hate me.”

Inside me, his cock throbbed. “Goddamn it,” he growled. “Why is that so fucking hot?”

He began to move again, but it was different than before. Faster. Harder. Rougher. There was a jagged edge to his rhythm—angry thrusts of his hips rather than that undulating motion of his body over mine. His breathing grew raspy and labored. His cock plunged deep, causing a twinge of pain within me.

I gasped, but he didn’t slow down.

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was gruff. “To be right about me after all?”

“Yes,” I managed, the pain subsiding, replaced by a wicked sense of pleasure—not just in the friction between our bodies but in the game we were playing. Not only had I found a way to play it on my terms, but I’d just scored a point.

“Fine. I’ll fuck you like I hate you.” He grinned above me. “I’ll still make you come.”

And he did. That bastard did what no guy before him had ever managed to do—give me a second orgasm.

Hell, most guys couldn’t even manage the first!

I don’t know if it was the size of the boat or the motion of the ocean—it also could have been the way the boat smelled and tasted and moaned—but I found myself cresting at the top of that wave again in no time at all, and then crashing onto the shore at the same time he did, our bodies in perfect sync.

Afterward, I felt as if I really had just washed up onto the beach. Breathless. Damp. Exhausted. Shipwrecked.

Stranded.