A Matter of Heart (39 page)

Why are these things
secrets? Does Jonah not trust me? It’s not like I’m crazy with money. I’m
actually pretty frugal. I can get why Kellan didn’t tell me before—what with
the distance we’ve been trying to put between us and all—but I live with Jonah.
We’re supposed to marry. When was he going to tell me? Right after I say, “I
do?”

“This isn’t a big deal,”
Kellan says quietly. He must sense my confusion and hurt—I haven’t bothered to
put up a shield with him since he asked me not to last night.

I give him a tiny smile. “So
what you’re saying is, you’re super rich.” He raises an eyebrow, so I add, “In
addition to being drop-dead gorgeous and freakishly intelligent. Wow. How do
you live with yourself?”

It’s
enough to make us both laugh, even if just a little.

When Kellan asked where I
wanted to go, I told him to surprise me by picking one that would make him
happy.

A couple hours later, we’re
inside a small house on the coast of Costa Rica, near a town called Playa
Hermosa. The house itself is immaculate, decorated with white furniture,
bleached wood floors and pale blue striped curtains.

As I wander the rooms, I
discover a locked closet in the hallway. Curiosity gets the best of me. “What’s
in here?”

Kellan pulls out a key and
opens it. And I chuckle, because there are surfboards in there. “Seriously?
Surfboards get locked up, but anyone can pick up a pot and find a key to the
house?”

These boys and their
apparent lack of concern for security.

“What if I wasn’t able to
bring mine from home? I need a board, C. It’s good to have extras.”

This is
so
typical
Kellan. “I take it there’s a good surfing spot nearby?”

“Obviously. Joey was a Tide,
remember? He refused to live anywhere that wasn’t close to water.”

Even though he wasn’t their
biological uncle, Joey influenced these boys straight to their cores. “Because
I’m sure you’d never want to surf baby waves, there must be some good ones
here, right?” I lean back against the closet; he traps me there, hands pressed
against the wall on either side of me.

I was so stupid, thinking
that maybe we could come here just as friends. Because here we are, not twenty
minutes in Costa Rica, and I’ve just mentally undressed him.

“Absolutely.” He grins, and
I’m breathless. He is so. Incredibly. Sexy. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to hit
them up while we’re here.”

The guilt in me is masked by
lust. To be fair, there’s a hell of a lot of lust raging around me right now.
“Could I stop you?”

“Absolutely,” he says again,
and I beam, because part of me knows that I could.

One look into his eyes, at
the sight of his open and matching lust, incinerates my renewed hope for
willpower and resistance into a pile of ashy good intentions. I take the
equivalent of a mental deep breath and officially let myself go.

“Well now.” I trail my hands
down his chest, all the way to the waistband of his shorts and savor when he
shudders. I surprise us both by saying, “For scientific purposes, I’d like to
test out that theory.”

When we kiss, it starts out
maddeningly slow, all anticipation and want. His tongue teases mine and then
disappears; mine follows in response. Kissing Kellan is like falling into a
black hole, because there’s no way to resist his gravitational pull. I’m
overheating thanks to his hands, grazing me so lightly that I want to scream,
and his mouth, which is warm and inviting. It’s painful, these aches he’s
causing. He’s a black hole I’m glad to lose myself in. I’m squirmy, and needy,
and he continues his slow torture of me until I break. I force my mouth hard
against his, my body against his, but any relief I thought I’d get is a joke,
because now I’m worse off than before.

When we finally pull apart,
we’ve stolen each other’s breath. He and I stare at each other in bewilderment.

Because
there’s no turning back now, and I think we both know it.

It’s late at night, but
neither of us is tired as we sit in his bed, eating ice cream to combat sticky
heat. I poke at him with my plastic spoon. “This must be normal for you.” A
raised eyebrow prompts me to clarify, “Staying up at night.”

He leans back against the
headboard. “Pretty much.”

“Maybe you’re part vampire,”
I say, and he chuckles.

“Maybe you’re an old lady.
You go to bed at, what? Eight o’clock at night?”

Outraged, I flick a spoonful
of ice cream at him. It lands on the base of his neck; clearly, he didn’t
expect this from me. He swipes at the glob with a finger and stares accusingly
at me.

My sides hurt from laughing.
“You shouldn’t mess with me, mister.”

He slowly sucks the ice
cream off, watching me the whole time. I envy that finger. “More proof. You aim
like an old lady, too. Even in the cave, when you were pissed as all hell, you
couldn’t hit me straight on.”

I gasp and ready my spoon
for a second assault. He laughs and grabs it away from me. We sword fight with
our utensils until I surrender and climb into his lap. I like how I can feel
just how turned on he is by me, like even more how he groans when I press
against him. “Your neck is still sticky.”

His eyes are dark and
hooded. “Can’t have that,” he murmurs.

When
I’m done licking the ice cream off his neck, I’ve left behind a mark. I’ve
never, ever done that before. I’ve always thought they’re tacky and gross. But
right now, it feels oddly comforting to see one on his skin. Like it shows he’s
mine.

We’re lounging on the front
porch, eating grapefruits for breakfast when Kellan’s eyes go distant. I know
why, so I sit quietly and sugar the pink, juicy flesh until it’s sweet and
irresistible.

After several minutes he
tells me, “Things are progressing in Africa.”

We haven’t talked about
Jonah once since coming to Costa Rica. Not a single mention of his name. And,
it’s been done solely for self-preservation, at least on my end, because
talking about Jonah is pretty much the same thing as admitting that I deserve
far more than a scarlet A.

Which I do. There’s no doubt
about that. I just don’t want to think about it yet. Because, for all my
desperate rationalizations of how, sooner or later, this would’ve happened
anyway since Kellan and I are Connected, the fact is,
I’m still cheating on
Jonah
. And it kills me, it really does, but I feel so helpless right now to
resist the Connection with Kellan.

It’s a piss poor excuse, but
the only one I can hold onto.

I wouldn’t wish this
situation on my worst enemy. People think Connections are so wonderful, so
desirable. It’s such a joke. If they only knew what a slave you become to that
which you can’t control, people would never want such a thing. They’d run
screaming in the opposite direction.

I finish slurping a slice
that tastes exactly like bitter guilt before I murmur, “Oh?”

“They’re moving to a third
site today. Less cell reception there than where he’s at now. He’s been quiet,
even with me. I think he’s not wanting to expose either of us to his misery
right now.” Kellan isn’t looking at me, but that’s okay. I’m having a hard time
looking at him right now, too. “He hopes you understand why he hasn’t been
sending messages.”

An ache for Jonah strikes me
fast and hard. Other than the time I was trapped in a cave, we haven’t gone
this long without at least talking to one another in a long time. I miss him. I
genuinely, seriously miss him.

Want him.

I’m a seriously awful
person.

I force myself to sound as
conversational as Kellan. We ought to be on a stage. “Are they at least able to
drive to the new location?”

He shakes his head. “Mostly
hiking. I guess the bugs are horrible.”

“But, I bought him bug
spray!”

Kellan laughs ruefully.
“He’s being eaten alive, so I’m hazarding to guess he forgot to put it in his
bag.”

Sadness washes over me, for
how Jonah’s suffering, doing who knows what in the middle of nowhere, and here
I am, with his brother.

“What are we doing?” I
whisper.

He
closes his eyes, his cuff in rotation. “The hell if I know.”

When we go out sightseeing
over the next few days, I’m a kid in a candy store. Having been deprived of
travel the majority of my life, this is a dream come true. Although Kellan
offers suggestions and occasionally likes to surprise me with some of his local
favorites, he mostly leaves our daily to-do lists up to me. He presents me with
a travel guide of the region, and I spend much time plotting various excursions
for us. Oftentimes, these plans formulate in Joey’s old Jeep as we’re driving
up and down small roads. And we talk—really talk. About anything and everything,
all except the one person who’ll break us faster than twigs in a tornado.

Caleb leaves me alone, which
is good because I pretty much told him to butt out. I can feel his
disappointment thick and strong at times, though, and I get why he feels that
way. And yet, a part of me is relieved that here, in Costa Rica, Kellan and I
have given into our Connection. Like this isn’t reality, but a place where no
one knows any differently about us. Fighting it has been so exhausting; I guess
I hadn’t really realized just how much until this week.

“You should go surfing.”

Kellan rolls his heads
towards me and opens his eyes. It’s Thursday, and we’re lying in Adirondack
chairs on the porch, connected by our enjoined hands as he’s dozing on and off
and I read a tour book. “I was just thinking about surfing.”

“When aren’t you?” I tease,
and he smiles wide.

“When I’m thinking of you.”

The familiar fluttering that
accompanies sweet words like these from him takes flight in my heart. “These
waves.” Reluctant to let go of his hand, I motion with my book to the
picturesque vista in front of us. “They’re some of your favorites, right?”

“Not these particular ones.”
He yawns. “But some nearby, yeah.”

“Frankly, I’m shocked you’ve
lasted this long without going out yet.”

“You did say you wanted to
test out how long you could distract me from surfing.” I can’t help but giggle
at the feigned look of innocence on his face.

An hour later, we’re on a
beach surrounded by monstrous, loud waves. I ogle the white foam, agog that
Kellan wants to enter such conditions, but he’s completely zen. I’m beginning
to think that surfing is literally in his and his brother’s blood. They can’t
go too long without being in the water or they wither within.

While he’s waxing his board,
I take off my sundress and settle down on my blanket so I can work on my tan.
He stops what he’s doing and stares at me so hard I blush like crazy. I shove
on my sunglasses and lean back against the blanket, propping myself up on
elbows. “Stop that!”

The sandy, circular wax disc
is dropped onto my blanket. “Wow.” He whistles. “That’s . . . wow.”

“You mean this old thing?” I
already know he’s referring to my bikini. Callie helped me pick it out last
month during what’s becoming one of our weekly shopping sessions. It’s fire engine
red and gorgeous, perfect to showcase the golden tan I’ve acquired this week.

His body leans over mine;
it’s delicious how much of our bare skin touches with so little clothes on. So
far, we haven’t gone any further than feeling each other up and kissing until
we don’t see straight, but it’s been tough to put on the breaks. But I have—we
have—and it’s been unsaid, but we both know why we haven’t gone any further.

And the reason is the guy
who I originally bought this bathing suit to tempt.

“You’d be gorgeous in a
paper sack.” He fingers one of the thin straps looping around my neck. “Or in
nothing at all. But this thing is
so
fucking hot on you.” His lips brush
mine. “It’s a good thing I’m going out into the Pacific right now.” The proof
of his words nudges against my leg, which only serves to totally turn me on,
too. Not that it’s hard when he’s around, but still.

I didn’t think it was
possible, but my skin now matches my bikini. Kellan’s amused by my reaction.
“Why is it you always act surprised when I tell you these things?” The strap
he’s been fingering is shoved to the side so he can suck on my neck. He won’t
leave a hickey like the one I gave him, now fading—and I know why—but part of
me kind of wishes he would.

“You say them,” I gasp as
much of me turns soft and warm, “because we’re Connected.”

His mouth leaves my neck and
travels to the spot just below my ear, which is pretty much one of the most
erogenous places on my body. “I’d say them even if we weren’t.” Teeth gently
tug on my earlobe. “That first day I saw you. In history, our senior year. We
hadn’t even touched yet and I thought you the most desirable girl I’d ever
seen.”

A small moan escapes my
lips. If he doesn’t stop soon, I might very well attack him in full view of
everyone else on the beach.

“I like it when you’re like
this,” he murmurs against my ear, breath hotter than the sun bearing down on
it. “When you sound like this.”