Come to Me Recklessly (9 page)

Her brows dropped down in a probing scowl. “What about what Jasmine said the other day? About…” She trailed off, clutching the chains tighter.

I swallowed over the lump that suddenly got lodged at the base of my throat. “That was true,” I admitted.

Thing was, my fame had preceded itself, and what Jasmine had tossed out was as far as I’d ever let things go. I never confirmed or denied any of the rumors because it wasn’t anyone’s fucking business who I’d been with, even if I hadn’t really
been
with anyone.

Frustration infiltrated her long, hard blink. “That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t know what you want from me… because if that’s it? You’re after the wrong person.”

Did I want her? Yeah. For sure. I was a sixteen-year-old boy. No one could blame me. I
wanted
her. Really wanted her. This wasn’t about me getting my cock sucked by some girl I could barely stand. This was different.

“I want whatever you’re willing to give me.”

Releasing the swings, she moved to the slide and slowly began ascending the steps, like each one she put her foot to answered another question posed somewhere in the recesses of her mind. At the top, she just stood there, hanging on to the handles while she stared down at me. The moonlight had her all lit up again, showcasing all her modesty, maybe showing off the woman who wanted to work her way out.

Edging forward, I waited at the bottom of the slide.

She lowered herself, gave a little shove, and slid down. I stopped her descent at the bottom, her back pressed into the metal. I grasped the sides, holding myself up, my nose an inch from hers as I hovered in her space. Her eyes were doing that wild thing again, a raging sea that churned with all that shyness, but flamed with bold strikes of courage, a storm that didn’t know which way to turn.

“Anyone ever kiss you before, Samantha?” I murmured low, letting my nose do a little exploring along her jaw.

She shook her head no.

“Didn’t think so,” I whispered, before I took a chance I was pretty damned sure was worth taking, and brushed my mouth against hers. And was I ever right. She tasted like sugar and all things sweet, like a spoonful of pure honey. A remedy.

Her kiss was every kind of timid, cautious in her inexperience, but it didn’t take a whole lot to convince me that this kind of kiss was my favorite.

I let her get accustomed to me, to the way my lips pressed and pulled, opened then closed over hers, just savoring this second. When a little moan rumbled up her throat, I let my tongue graze along the rim of her bottom lip. In a blink, her hands were in my hair, desperate to draw me nearer, and she was suddenly kissing me like that storm had taken an abrupt turn and hit land.

I kissed her back, going for soft and sincere, but I was unable to hold back the quick lashes of my tongue against hers.

I wanted to eat her whole.

My hands cinched down on the metal. It cut into my skin, but there wasn’t a chance I was letting go because there was no way I was pushing her, and I was pretty sure if my hands got free they were gonna have a mind of their own. No way would I let my actions even skate in the direction of affirming the fears that had been keeping her back.

The bad news was I was gonna have a case of near-fatal blue balls for days. But there wasn’t a chance in this godforsaken world that I’d go looking for a cure for this growing issue in someone like Jasmine. Not anymore. Not ever again.

Turned out my mom was right, after all, encouraging me to hold out even when I might not want to, because there was going to be a day I wished I had.

Today was that day.

And I knew it down deep. It didn’t matter at all that we were nothing but kids. Didn’t matter that she was scared and I was stupid.

Nothing else mattered except for the way this felt.

Finally I pulled back. Samantha licked her swollen lips, then let go of a lazy smile and traced her fingers down my face.

“So that might have won me over, crazy boy.”

I coughed out a laugh.

Yeah.

Crazy.

All kinds of crazy for her.

I knocked lightly at the door, cracking it open at the same time. “Stewart?” I called quietly.

I peeked inside to find my little brother asleep in the middle of his small bed, on his side and facing away. At the sound of my voice, he slowly stirred, groaning as he rolled over. He blinked incoherently before he sat up and rubbed his sleepy eyes. When he dropped his hands, he quirked up the most radiant smile. “Samantha.”

It didn’t matter how terrible I was feeling inside, there was no stopping my smile, which spread out to match his. Stewart was my happy place.

I pushed his door open the rest of the way and stepped inside and set the bags of three different kinds of fast food down on his messy desk. I’d made a mad dash, doing rounds through the drive-throughs of all his old favorite places.

Taking the four steps to bring me to the side of his bed, I dropped a swift kiss to his temple, ran my hand over the top of his bald head. “Hey there, Stew. Sorry to wake you.”

He didn’t hesitate to lean into me, hugging me fiercely around the waist, or as fiercely as Stewart could in his weakened state. I wrapped my arms around his frail shoulders. I was both swept away in sadness and bolstered in spirit.

My little brother just had something about him, something magical and kind, as if he understood things long before they happened, as if he knew when someone needed an extra smile or a tighter hug.

He must have known it now, because he held on to me for the longest time while I clung to him.

“Nah,” he mumbled softly, “I’m just bored out of my mind. I don’t have anything better to do, so sleep it is.”

I winced, knowing it was only half the truth. On the phone this morning, Mom had told me his last round of chemo had really knocked him flat, zapping him of all his energy, and he’d either been sick in the bathroom or curled up in bed for the last three days.

He released me, and I edged away, but not far enough away that I couldn’t cup his cheek. I searched his face. “How are you feeling? I mean, really feeling? Not what you tell your doctor and Mom and everyone else you don’t want fretting over you.”

A short chuckle rocked from him, and for a second, his blue eyes gleamed with mischief. “Like shit.”

“Hey, watch your mouth,” I warned through a giggle.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, trying not to laugh outright. “What? You asked for the truth, and the truth is that I feel like shit. There’s no other word for it.”

I knew I sheltered him too much, treated him as if he were years younger than his seventeen. But it was so hard to let that little boy go, because he’d missed so much of his childhood that it seemed impossible he was almost eighteen.

“We need to get you past that, don’t we?”

His face fell a little, flattening into something too bleak for my taste. “Hope so.”

I forced a bigger smile. “Know so,” I promised.

He reached up and squeezed my hand, which was still on his face, a silent conversation transpiring between the two of us. I knew he was scared and just all around sick of being sick, but he also didn’t want to waste his days complaining about it. We both smiled knowing smiles, before we seemed to let go of a heavy breath, putting all of this aside.

Which would have been a whole lot easier for me if I wasn’t still reeling from what had happened last night. If I wasn’t feeling raw and wrong and completely unsettled. Inhaling, I made a valiant attempt at tucking all of those unbearable thoughts into the quiet corners of my mind. Because this was Stewart’s time, and I didn’t want to waste it on my stupidity and foolishness, on that reckless and impulsive move I’d made that set me on a collision course with a man I would have done well to have long forgotten.

I gestured to the greasy bags sitting on his desk. “Are you hungry?”

He shrugged. “Maybe later. Mom made me drink one of those milk shake things a couple hours ago. Not sure I can force anything else down right now.”

I nodded, though I hated to hear it.

He rested his elbows on his knees, his legs crisscrossed in front of him. “So tell me something… anything… I need gossip… drama. I’m about to lose my mind here. It’s pretty sad when I have to live vicariously through my twenty-three-year-old sister, who acts more like a forty-seven-year-old crazy cat lady.”

My mouth puckered in offense, and his deep laughter ricocheted around his room.

“You are such a punk,” I accused through a tease, before I went for a look of sophisticated arrogance. “I’ll have you know I went to the store three times this week. And I drank an entire bottle of wine.
By myself.
”

Did I leave out all the stuff about Aly? About Christopher? About how incredibly pathetic and sad and heartbroken the whole situation made me feel? Yes. Yes. And yes.

I wasn’t about to go there with him. It wasn’t prudent and it most definitely wasn’t important.

Or at least that’s what I was trying to convince myself.

“Really… three whole trips to the store, huh? You are such a rebel.” He considered me when I fidgeted, and his blue eyes narrowed. “You sure there isn’t something more exciting you want to share with me?”

“No. Of course not,” I hurled out way too fast.

In an attempt to hide the cringe that pinched my face with that blatant lie, I turned away from him and crossed my arms over my chest as I studied the rows and rows of wood shelves that were bracketed on his walls. All of them showcased his prize possessions, trinkets, memorabilia, and character dolls from all his favorite video games and books. My chest tightened when my attention landed on his most cherished keepsake of all – the signed copy of his favorite childhood book.

I’d never forget the day it’d arrived in a padded package all the way from the UK. Mom and Dad had both been skeptical when a deliveryman had shown up needing a signature for something that was from out of the country and addressed to Stewart.

Forever I’d cherish the expression that had taken over Stewart’s face when he’d ripped into that box and came to realize the significance of what he held, that it was signed to him with an inscription telling him to
Never stop believing in magic
.

It wasn’t just happiness.

It was a deep-seated joy, something so precious to him that it’d stolen his breath and sent silent tears streaming down his face.

It was a survivor’s prize.

God, I was so thankful he’d been given something so special, the gift so thoughtful that it’d crumbled the last bits of my resistance.

After I’d asked around, Ben had admitted he’d been the one who had it sent, and it was that book that had finally won me over.

“What’s up with you today?” The concerned voice shook me from my faraway thoughts, and I looked over at Stewart, who was watching me with too-keen eyes. That was the problem when you were this close with someone. It was really hard keeping secrets from them.

“Have my Nerd Lair powers taken you hostage and that too-smart brain of yours is being held captive in another realm? Because you definitely aren’t acting like yourself.”

I coughed over the abrupt laugh that found its way out, because only Stewart would name his room after one of his favorite games. Apparently I had been sucked away to another realm. A realm that had always been a fantasy, impossible, wrong, because Christopher had always been wrong for me.

Bad for me, really.

That knowledge didn’t really matter, though, did it?

I’d already known the end result of hanging out with Aly. Had wanted it even, somehow thinking that seeing Christopher again would shut that chapter in my life that had never seemed to close.

He’d left something gaping inside of me, and stupidly I thought seeing him would close it.

I should have known it would only rip it open a little wider and pour on a fresh layer of pain, one that was blended with a whole ton of confusion and mixed with zero clarity. His words had been a harsh contradiction to the temptation of his touch, and every single thing about the encounter had left my head spinning and my heart hurting.

Oh, and my body burning.

Uncontrolled redness flared to my cheeks.

So intense I could feel it heating up my insides.

That was the reaction I’d hated most, that Christopher could control me with just a brush of his hand.
Never
again would I allow him that, the power to sway me physically.

I knew better than that.

I
was
better than that.

Ben’s face flashed like an errant bolt of lightning in my mind, striking me in the most loyal place in my conscience. Lying next to him last night had seemed unbearable, because it was the last place I’d wanted to be. When he came stumbling into our room after two this morning, he’d rained a trio of sloppy, drunken kisses to my cheek, my jaw, and then my mouth.

Guilt had almost cut me in two, and I hadn’t even done anything wrong.

I bit back a bitter laugh. I could just keep telling myself that and continue pretending it wasn’t a lie. Because Ben still had no clue where I’d been or what I’d been up to, had no idea that another man had again broken my heart when he should have had no dominance over me to do it. He had no idea that I’d muffled my cries in my pillow as I mourned someone there was no question I wanted, one who with the slightest touch had left me bound by unseen chains, burning from the inside out, wishing for his touch even when I knew that touch would ruin me.

Blatant worry screwed Stewart’s face up in concern. “Seriously… what’s up, Samantha? You’re acting weird.”

I lifted both shoulders to my ears, held them for too long before I dropped them helplessly. “Just tired and trying to get settled into a new routine with work.”

“I thought you loved your job.”

“I do.”

“And you look like you have enough energy that you could run a marathon.”

I huffed in frustration. He was too perceptive for his own good. Or maybe for my own good.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

His smile was smug. “You’re about the worst liar I’ve ever met.” He leaned back against his headboard. “But if you don’t want to tell me what’s bothering you, that’s fine. I’m here for you whenever you do, though. I mean, if you can take all my awesomeness and profound advice.”

I grabbed a pillow and chucked it at him. His boisterous laughter was unrestrained, and he deflected my attack by lifting his arm up to protect his face. Cautiously, he let his arm drop. He grinned victoriously at me when he found me unarmed, again radiating all that beauty and positivity, a lightness that shouldn’t be there after everything he’d been through.

There were few things that made me as happy as seeing him that way.

My movements were slow as I went to him, lay down at his side, and curled up next to him. I rested my head on his shoulder. “I know you’re always here for me, Stewart. You’re the best. You know that, don’t you?”

He squeezed me around the shoulders, and there was no mistaking the hoarseness that came with his tease. “Of course I know I’m the best. You really
are
lucky to have such a great brother.”

It was funny, because you’d think my standing Sunday dates with Stewart were meant for him, that I was sacrificing my day off to spend time with him, to keep him company and to keep his spirits up. But right then, closed in the quiet of his tiny room, surrounded by collector toys, game consoles, the walls smeared in childish posters, I was pretty sure it was him who was comforting me.

I pulled into the driveway, parking my blue Escape next to Ben’s large SUV. I situated the sunshade against the windshield, giving myself a little pep talk before I went back inside.

Yeah, last night had been a mistake, but maybe it was one that had to be made, a lesson that needed to be learned as an adult and not through the eyes of a sixteen-year-old girl. I’d told myself before I went that I just needed to
know
.

Now I did.

Christopher was still an asshole, mean right down to his very core, all too happy to play with me until he squeezed the life right out of me. I hadn’t misunderstood. He was just as vicious now as he had been the night he’d completely ripped me apart.

Images slammed me in quick succession – his face, his hands, that body. Brighter than all of them were his eyes. He was devastating, so beautiful it hurt to look at him. That hadn’t changed, either. The years had only made it worse.

But all of that would have to be ignored if I was to focus on the moral of the story.

And that was that I had to stay away from Christopher.

I shook my head through my pathetic laughter as I got out of the car and headed for the front door.
Right.
He’d made it clear enough he didn’t want anything to do with me, anyway.

How absurd was it that his words had stung worse than him flaunting himself with that slutty girl?

Ludicrous. Ridiculous.

Downright dangerous.

I fisted my hands and marched right through my unlocked front door. It was quiet inside, the shimmery drapes pulled wide, allowing the early afternoon sun to slant through the large window, pouring natural light and warmth into the open family room.

“Ben?” I called. Metal clattered against wood when I dropped my keys onto the small table under the window, and I slipped my flip-flops from my feet.

“In the office,” he hollered back from down the hall. In reality the
office
was a glorified man cave, replete with blackout curtains on the windows and a leather couch that cost five times my monthly salary.

In the office
meant he was busy, scouring the Internet, stalking Facebook, or playing a game, all of which took up a huge chunk of his day.

Good.

That meant I had some time to clear my head and put myself back together.

Before I had even crossed the room, the doorbell rang. I froze. I stood there, considering not answering it, because somehow I already knew who it would be.

The ring was followed by a soft knock, like the person standing on the other side of my door was asking for entrance with a genuine
please
.