Page 83 of Interpreter

“Gah! Are we still on Cal?” I grumble. His eyes are as firm and unbelieving just like his touch on my center. Fine. “He drove by. I was going to call you, but he drove by first and offered me a ride.”

His fingers pick up speed, but his mouth doesn’t go back to where I need it the most.

“Does he have a thing for you?” he says, low and unsure.

Ugh. “Please can we stop talking?” His fingers are still moving, but they are teasing, not using the pressure I need to come on the hood of this car.

“No!” I scream out in the open pastures. “It doesn’t matter if he does have a thing for me because Ionlyhave a thing foryou!” I take a breath and glare down at the dark head of hair between my legs. “Now please, stop fucking talking!”

My legs are yanked open, and I worry for a second he might dislocate my hip at this angle, but then his blessed tongue, firm and literally a magic wand, goes to the center of my clit before his mouth begins to suck, sending spasms through my legs. My hands knot in his hair, and I cry out as his fingers press up, massaging the spot that sends black spots through my vision.

“Don’t stop,” I beg him, but he doesn’t hear me because his face is still pleasantly buried between my legs. I try to feel for his throat, any connection I can make so he knows how much he’s killing this whole oral thing right now, but I can’t reach. It’s then that his hand, the one holding my legs open, seeks out and takes hold of mine. The connection is so intimate. Every piece of us, even out in the open, is connected. We don’t need words. We just need each other’s touch. His fingers inside of me. His mouth measuring the pressure as my clit swells. His hand holding mine anchors me to reality when I finally shatter in his arms.

Radio host: He took time off from school?

Penelope: Unfortunately, he did. You remember I said he was stubborn.

Radio host: So, he came home to Vegas to be with you?

Penelope: For a year. He updated everything he could. He mounted white boards in every room. Notepads every six feet. All of the TVs had closed captioning turned on.

Radio host: He sounds like one devoted son.

Penelope: He most certainly is. If it wasn’t for Tim pushing me—sitting next to me with a bowl of pretzels, challenging me to learn how to read lips—I don’t know that I would have. I probably would have always relied on sign language.

Radio host: Oh wow! You read lips?

Penelope: Yes, not as good as Timaeus does, but I’m pretty decent.

Radio host: Ah man, I would love to have that skill. It would make eavesdropping so much easier.

Penelope: Ha! I’ve never thought about that, but you’re right.

I don’t know that I’ve ever made love to a woman. But as Milah’s breathing evens out on the hood of my car, I think I have now. No, we weren’t having sex, but we were connected more than just physically. I didn’t have to hear her. No, her pussy clenched around my fingers, her legs shivering at my ears… her hand reaching for mine… it was the most intimate I’d ever been with a woman.

I unlock my arms from around her legs and kiss up her thighs. I was so fucking pissed to see her get out of the car with Cal. Enraged, is a better term, and my brothers knew it; each of them stepping up and preventing a scene in front of parents.

“Come,” I tell Milah, easing off the hood.

“I can’t,”she signs.“I think my legs have turned to noodles.”

I chuckle at her dramatic description. “I’m sure you’re fine.” But I scoop her up anyway and carry her over my shoulder. My body aches from the effort I exerted while cleaning the last few cars. If I couldn’t put my hands on Cal, then I would take it out on the filth of everyone’s rims. I open the back gate and head toward the pool, finding what I need. The hot tub.

“Strip,” I demand, tugging off my jeans and tossing them onto a table. Milah looks at the hot tub bubbling next to the pool.

“What if your family comes back early?”

“They won’t,” I assure her. We’ve all been around each other for too long. We know when to give each other space to cool down. The guys and I have done it plenty of times for Theo—not that he cares about privacy, but we still give it to him.

“Okay,” she signs with her thumb and index finger. Within minutes we are both naked and soaking in the warmth of the water.

“Are you still mad at me?” she asks. She’s sitting on my lap, her chest out of the water, and those damn nipples are hard and beckoning for me to warm them.

“No,” I tell her, brushing a piece of hair from her face. “I’m not mad.”

“I didn’t call Cal to come and get me. I swear.”

I believe her. But just seeing him with her… knowing he rescued her and not me sent a feeling of territorial jealousy through me that I couldn’t shake off. Somewhere in all this, Milah became everything to me. She’s the reason I get up in the morning. The reason I stop by the convenience store every morning for a bag of mint M&M’s. The whole reason that I can now play music and enjoy it. And maybe the most important reason of them all, she introduced me to Oliver. The little kid who practices alongside us every day, making sure he signs out the words perfectly while Milah sings. He’s a brilliant little boy.

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