Page 33 of Between Now and Forever

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?” She asks as we walk down the hall into the room.

“Of course. My mom’s just a little…wary of people she doesn’t know.” It’s an understatement. I’m sure she’s already running a background check on Liz right now.

When we get to the room, I walk her over to the bed and kneel down to get a closer look at her foot. Her sandals are pink and strappy and look like they’d be more at home in a cocktail lounge than at a lake party. I unbuckle the straps and pull it off. She hisses when I stroke the slightly swollen inside of her ankle.

I look up at her, expecting to see pain on her face, and with an apology on the tip of my tongue.

But it’s not pain I see there and when I run my hand down her instep her eyelids flutter and she sucks that plump bottom lip into her mouth.

Oh yeah…it was a mistake to bring her here. She’s going to make me break all my rules.

“Do you like me touching you?” I ask in a low voice as I trail my hand up her leg. Her pink painted toes wiggle against their perch on my thigh.

“Very much, yes. But, I don’t think –“

“How’s the ankle?”

My mother’s voice slices through the sensual web I was weaving as we move apart. Me – to standing. Her- to the other end of the bed.

“It’s fine, thank you. I know better than to run around in these shoes when it’s raining,” she says deprecatingly. In the quiet of my house, without all the noise by the lake, her voice’s lyrical cadence is audible.

I wonder if she sings.

“Well, the ice ought to help. I’m going to scrounge up some clothes, I’ll be right back.” She gives me a wide-eyed look that says,You've got some explaining to do,as she turns to leave the room.

“Can I get that towel,” Liz says. She shivers and then rubs her hands over her arms to warm up.

I’m such an ass.

“Here.” I lift the towel off my shoulders and offer it to her with an apologetic smile.

Our hands brush as she takes the towel, and just that small touch makes me want more. She rubs the towel over her shoulders and chest and her nipples tighten and press against the thin black fabric of her swimsuit. I wonder what color they are.

I want to strip that fucking view ruining piece of fabric from her body and dry her off myself.

When she rubs the towel across her throat, I wonder how solid her gag reflex is.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“This rain is crazy. But, this is summer in Texas for you,” she says with affection and disdain while she runs the towel over her short hair. When she lifts her arms to twist the towel into a turban on her head, it reveals a birthmark on the inside of her wrist that’s in the shape of a clover. Stem and all. While she’s busy fixing the towel, I drink her in.

Her skin is incredible, and even the harsh fluorescent light of the room can’t dim the sun kissed glow of it.

“Umm, you’re staring,” she says, but she’s biting her lip, trying and failing to hide a smile.

“I’m sorry.” I drop my eyes to the floor, and then glance up again before I look back at her.

She gives me a reproachful smile. “You’re still staring,” she chides, but her smile only gets wider.

“You’re really hardnotto stare at.” These are sorts of truths that are easy to tell. Except, she doesn’t seem to take it as a compliment.

Her hand comes up to cover her cheek, almost like she’s been slapped and her eyes probe mine as if she’s trying to read my mind.

“Sorry, should I not have told you that?” I ask.

She drops her hand and continues wiping herself. But doesn’t meet my eyes.

“I just hope you mean that in a good way,” she says after a few seconds in a voice that’s just above a whisper.

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