Page 21 of Waiting For Ever
My eyes are drinking in every detail of her face as we move in sync. I note the dampness on her upper lip. She feels the heat too. Although, she’s not the one hiding from this magnetism. She’s been so open, even as she experienced big firsts last night, unbeknown to me. I marvel at how I didn’t suspect it. Yeah, she felt deliciously tight, but I sensed no inexperience. No awkwardness. Maybe a shyness at first, but it was quickly drowned by the hunger and willingness and sweet surrender. Now that I know, though, I can see the shyness for what it is. I need to back up, rewind and slow the fuck down. It’s why I didn’t sleep next toher last night. I want to take this slow for her. I want these firsts to be amazing for her. I thought I was doing the right thing. The respectful thing. I knew if she was lying next to me, wanting me, I wouldn’t be able to not give her what she wants, because I want it too. I want to give her every first.
God, how has she never been kissed? She’s fucking gorgeous. Maybe her hometown is full of hideous douchebags.Lucky me.But in trying to do the right thing—staying out of her bed, turning off her alarm to give her more sleep—I’ve completely pissed her off. I wanna make it right. I’m not sure how when she’s so mad. And I know this makes me a dick, but damn she’s hot when she’s pissed. Hotter, I mean.
Standing, I pull her up with me. “Ready to hit some shit?” This I ask with a wink, testing the current fury level.
“Yeah. You offering to be my punching bag?” She challenges, one eyebrow raised.
Okay, still at DEFCON 1.Noted.“Let’s start with the bag. If that doesn’t work, I’ll volunteer as tribute.” I wink again. I can’t help playing with fire. If she knew how much her sass turned me on, she really would punch me right now. “But let’s get a few moves down first and practice your form.”
She’s determined, learns quickly, and her form is impressive. She’s told me repeatedly she’s not an athlete but a bookworm. But I imagine if she tried . . . anything, she’d be a force. She’s coordinated, fluid and frankly . . . breathtaking. Her body is perfect—lithe, graceful, soft but toned. Once we move to the bag, I call out moves from my beginner routine and quickly switch to intermediate to keep her challenged.
I see the change in her stance and strikes within minutes. Her moves become intense, the strikes harder, angrier. She stops listening to the moves I call out, so I stop calling them out. She’s fighting an invisible demon. Her breathing becomes pants as sweat runs down her temples. The hair on the nape of her neck curls with perspiration. Her panting breaths turn to grunts, then groans, then sobs.
I watch, knowing she needs it, until I can’t stand it anymore. Watching the heartbreak that so closely mirrored my own in unspoken ways tears at me. I step between her and the bag as she swings. Catching her fist in my hand, I grab her bicep in my other hand with a little shake.
Storm-cloud gray eyes pin mine. She blinks once, twice, then opens the fist I hold and laces her fingers through mine, gripping until her knuckles go white.
I pull her toward me with the other hand, releasing her arm.
Her chest heaves out and in against mine, her eyes threaten to spill over. She takes a step back as if to pull away from me—the opposite of what her body silently screams.
“Ever—” I start.
“Don’t, Julie. Don’t say anything. And don’t you dare wink at me again, or Iwillpunch you.”
I pull her toward me, wrapping my free arm around her neck, tucking our still clenched hands between us. She releases her death grip on my hand and snakes her arm around my back. With her forehead against my chest, her pants of breath heat my skin through my shirt and the tears dampen the thin fabric as her shoulders began to shake. I’m losing the battle of staying immune to this passionate girl in myarms. How can I? Her pain is speaking to mine. The tears soaking my shirt are melting the block of ice that stands between her and my heart.
For the first time in three years, I’m scared. Resting my chin on her head, I hold on to her. For her sake, I tell myself. One thing I perfected in the last three years is lying to myself. And since I’m a liar now, I decide to keep breaking the rules. “Come on. Let’s go be rebels and share a sauna before heading to Brew.”
That does it. Her face softens. The idea of us teaming up to break the rules tucks the last of her anger away.
“Men’s or ladies’ locker room?” I ask before she changes her mind. She looks at me blankly. “Tick tock, Davis. Before the place opens to the public.”
“Uh . . . women’s?”
“Figures.” I roll my eyes teasingly, grab her hand and lead the way.
Chapter 20
Everly
Whether it was beating the shit out of the punching bag, the ugly cry, the comfort of this drop-dead green flag or all three, I feel lighter than I have since arriving in Blue Lake. Or in the last three months. Or, full disclosure, since my dad died six years ago. Sitting across from Julian in the ladies’ locker room sauna, I tell him so.
After thanking him for . . . everything and after the release of my pent-up emotions, I feel emboldened. Maybe it’s the heat or the intimacy of the confined space or that we’recommando(other than our towels) in the sauna, but I look him square in the eye and let out more than my emotions.
“One more thing. Don’t make decisions for me without asking. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now and I don’t appreciate the babying—especially from you. You can’t kiss me like you did and do . . . what we did and then not treat me like an equal. Fair?”
He has the integrity to look guilty at my mini lecture. And he concedes, sort of. “Fair. And I’m sorry. I really am. I mistakenly thoughtI was acting in your best interest. Out of concern. Not in a degrading way. I promise.” He locks eyes with me as he apologizes.
Green flag still soaring. I smile and nod my acceptance. But he wasn’t done.
“But, Ever?” He says my name like a question; the name he calls me that I love more than he knows.
I arch one eyebrow expectantly and wait.
“How have you never been kissed? You certainly don’t act . . .” When my eyebrow goes up another notch, he clears his throat and searches for the right words. “Look, you threw that out like no big deal. I would not have guessed you’d never been touched. You . . . well, you don’t . . . act inexperienced. And I’m not just talking about the physical stuff. When you confessed that so casually, it . . . Can I be honest?”
“Please.” I hold my hands out like I’m serving something, then add, “Always.”
