Rules Of Attraction (31 page)

lifetime. Tonight . . . tonight she can trust me, and I can trust her. I

set her down on the covered dock. It’s dark, and the black clouds are

covering the light of the moon. The top blanket is wet, so I’m glad I

grabbed a bunch. I take them from her and set the dry blankets on the

wood dock, giving us a padded place to sleep. I just don’t know if sleep

is all we’ll be doing tonight. “Kiara?” I say.

“Y-y-yeah?” she says, her word echoing in the darkness.

“Come lie with me.”

FIFTY :
Kiara

My heart flutters and I get a flush of excitement at his words.

“It’s d-d-dark. I can’t see anything.”

“Follow my voice, chica. I won’t let you fall.”

I reach out in the darkness as if I’m blind, all the while shivering

from nervousness or the cold rain. I can’t tell which one is making me

shake more. When our hands connect through the black night, he

guides me to the blankets. I place my purse with the condom in it

beside the blanket, then awkwardly hitch up my dress so I can sit in

front of him. He wraps his strong, muscular arms around me. “You’re

shakin’,” he says, pulling me back against his chest.

“I c-c-can’t help it.”

“Are you cold? I can find more blankets if you—”

“No, don’t leave. S-s-stay with me.” I turn so my arms are wrapped

around his waist. I’m nuzzling into his body heat, not letting him go.

“I’m just n-n-nervous.”

He strokes my hair, now wet from the rain. “Me, too.”

“Carlos?”

“Yeah?”

Since I can’t see him, I reach up and feel his clean-shaven jaw.

“Tell me something about your childhood that you remember.

Something g-g-good.”

It takes him a long time to respond. Doesn’t he remember anything

happy about his life in Chicago?

“Alex and I always got in trouble after school when my ma was

workin’. Alex was supposed to be in charge of everythin’, but the last

thing a thirteen-year-old kid wanted to do was schoolwork right when

we got home. We’d have these contests we called the Fuentes Olympics

and create the most ridiculous events.”

“Like what?”

“Alex had this stupid idea to cut off the tops of my mom’s panty

hose and put tennis balls inside each leg. He called them the Panty

Discus. We’d fling them around and around like windmills, then throw

’em as hard as we could. Sometimes the farthest would win, and

sometimes the highest.” He chuckles. “We were such idiots we’d stick

them back in my ma’s drawer and think she’d never suspect it was us

who mutilated them.”

“Was she tough with you?”

“Let’s just say my ass still hurts from that day, and it was seven

years ago.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. Alex and I spent a lot of time together back then. Once I

wanted to be a pirate, so I went in my ma’s room, took her jewelry box,

and buried it in the woods by our house. Most of it was fake jewelry

and stupid free pins she had to wear at work. I came home and drew a

map with a big red X where I’d hidden the box, then told Alex to find

it.”

“Did he?”

“No.” He gives a short laugh. “And neither could I.”

“Did your mom freak?”

“Freak is an understatement, chica. Every day after school I went

to the woods to dig up her jewelry, but never could find it. Worst part

is that her weddin’ ring was in the box . . . she never wore it because

after mi papá died she didn’t want to risk losin’ it.”

“Oh my God. That’s horrible.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t funny at the time, that’s for sure. But one day I’ll

find that box, if someone else hasn’t gotten to it first. Okay, your turn.

What did you do to piss off the almighty Professor and the Queen

Mother of Organic Teas?”

“I once hid my dad’s car keys so he wouldn’t go to work,” I tell him.

“Not bad enough. Give me somethin’ else.”

“I used to pretend to be sick so I could stay home from school.”

“Please, I was the champion at that. Don’t you got anythin’ really

bad? Or have you been a Goody Two-shoes your entire life?”

“When I was mad at my parents, I used to spike their toothpaste

with Tabasco sauce.”

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Nice.”

“But my parents never hit me; they don’t believe in it. I got a lot of

time-outs during my rebellious stage when I was twelve, though.”

He laughs. “I live in a permanent rebellious stage.” His fingers

graze my knee and slowly move higher. When they reach the garter, he

touches the lace. “What’s this?”

“A garter. You’re supposed to take it off and keep it as a memento.

K-k-kinda like a trophy for going far sexually with a girl. It’s stupid,

really. And kind of d-d-degrading if I think about it too m-m-much.”

“I know what it is,” he says, amusement evident in his voice. “I just

wanted to hear your explanation.” He slides it off me slowly, his lips

following the path of the garter. “I like it,” he says as he slides my

shoes off. The garter follows.

“Do you feel rebellious now?” I ask him.

“Sí. Very rebellious.”

“Remember when you told me you and I were gonna get in trouble

one of these days?”

“Yeah.”

“I think that day is here.” I reach up with shaking hands and start

unbuttoning his shirt. I slide his shirt open and place slow kisses down

his solid, bare chest. I move my kisses lower and lower as I open more

buttons. “Want to get in trouble with me, Carlos?”

FIFTY-ONE :
Carlos

Get in trouble with her? Hell, the first minute I laid eyes on her at

Flatiron High I was in trouble. Now I’m lost in the sensation of her

soft, warm lips on my skin. I let her take control of this. I’m holding

back, even though my body is screamin’ for more. Brittany told me to

rein in my ego and attitude tonight. Problem is, I don’t have a handle on

either one right now.

Her wet tongue reaches out and grazes my left nipple. “Is that o-o-

okay?” she asks.

No girl has ever done that to me. Hell, I don’t know if I’d ever let

any other girl do that to me. But this isn’t just any other girl; this is

Kiara. I have a feeling she could do whatever the hell she wanted right

now and I’d be fine with it. “Yeah. Feels damn good, chica. I can’t wait

to return the favor.”

My breathing is ragged as I try to urge the rest of my body to

calm down as her mouth moves to the other side of my chest.

I need to feel her against me. I never claimed to be patient. “Hey,”

I say, lifting her chin. I kiss her softly, wanting nothing more than to

have her lying beside me right now. “It’s my turn.”

I slide my jacket off her shoulders and toss it out of our way. My

fingers move up the zipper on her back, stopping when I reach the top.

When I pull the slide lower and lower, exposing skin I wish I could see

but can only imagine, Kiara unbuttons my pants and reaches inside to

feel me over my shorts.

“What are you doin’?” I ask her.

“Sorry,” she says quickly, pulling her hand back. “I n-n-needed to do

s-s-something with my hands and wanted to know if I was t-t-turning

you on.”

I laugh. Leave it to Kiara to go searchin’ in my pants for answers.

“Did you feel the evidence?” I ask, amused.

“Yes,” she whispers. “You’re turned on.”

“Just so you know . . .” I take her hand and place it over me again.

“Just thinkin’ about you makes me hard.”

I can sense her smile, even though I can’t see it. I imagine her

eyelashes are framing her chameleon eyes, which have probably turned

a light shade of gray. I slide her dress down her shoulders and don’t

stop until it’s completely off her.

“Your turn,” she whispers, pulling away as I reach out to touch her.

I shrug out of everythin’ but my underwear, then pull her under the

covers with me.

“You cold?” I ask, noticing a slight shake of her hands when she

reaches up and memorizes my face with her fingers.

“No.”

I lean over her and kiss her. “Give me your germs,” I tell her,

making fun of Brandon’s take on French kissing.

“Only if you’ll give me yours,” she says against my lips. She opens

her mouth to me and we slide our tongues together, the slippery

wetness making me even harder— if that was even possible.

We move together, our bodies grinding against each other for what

seems like an eternity. I reach inside her panties, feeling her at the

same time her hands are wrapped around me.

“I brought a condom,” I tell her when I slide her panties down.

We’re both hot and sweaty, and I can’t resist her anymore.

“I did, too,” she whispers against my neck. “But we might not be

able to use it.”

“Why not?” I expect her to tell me this was all a mistake, that she

really didn’t mean to get me all hot and bothered just to tell me I’m not

worthy enough to take her virginity, but it’s the truth.

She clears her throat. “It all d-d-depends on whether or not you’re

allergic to l-l-latex.”

Latex? I’ve never been asked that question. Maybe it’s because

every other girl I’ve been with expected me to bring protection, or

didn’t expect me to use it at all. “Chica, I’m not allergic to anythin’.”

“Good,” she says, reaching for her purse and pulling out a condom

package. “You want me to put it on you?”

She can’t see the side of my mouth quirk up. I’m not the virgin

here, and yet tonight has been full of firsts for me. “You sure you can

figure it out?”

I hear the rip of the package opening. “Do I hear a challenge?” she

whispers, then leans forward and says against my lips, “Oh, Carlos. You

know I can’t resist a challenge.”

FIFTY-TWO :
Kiara

“Wake up, chica.”

The sound of Carlos’s voice and the gentle touch of his fingers on

my naked shoulder makes me stir. My legs are intertwined with his, my

head is nestled in the crook of his arm, and memories of what we did a

few hours ago are bringing bittersweet feelings to the surface. I open

my eyes. It’s still dark, and we’re both completely naked under the

covers. “Hi,” I say, my voice groggy and tired.

“Hey. We need to go.”

“Why? Can’t we just stay here longer?”

He clears his throat and rolls away, the movement bringing the cold

night air rushing to my skin. “I forgot I’ve got to bring Alex’s car back

tonight.”

“Oh,” I say dumbly. “Okay.” It’s obvious he’s freaking out and

regretting what we did. I get it. I don’t know what triggered it just

now, but I get it.

“Get dressed,” he says, no emotion in his voice.

When he hands me his jacket after we’re both dressed, I don’t

take it from him. “I have my raincoat,” I tell him.

“You left it back in the car, Kiara. Wear this. It’ll protect you from

the rain.”

“I don’t need it,” I say, then walk out into the rain in my dress and

bare feet. I need his love. I need his honesty. Handing me his jacket is

superficial protection anyway. The jacket is wet, inside and out.

In the car, after he shoves the blankets in the trunk and mumbles

something about having to go to the Laundromat to clean them, we

drive through the dark, empty streets in silence. The only sound is the

rain tapping against the windows. I wish rain wouldn’t remind me of

tears so much.

“Are you angry with me?” I ask him as I put my raincoat on so he

doesn’t see my arms shaking.

“Nope.”

“Then s-s-stop acting like it. Tonight was perfect for me. Please

don’t ruin it.”

He pulls into my driveway and parks next to my car. The rain is

coming down harder now.

“Wait a few minutes until it lets up,” he says as I gather my shoes

and purse.

“How are you getting back home after you drop off the car?”

“I’ll just crash at my brother’s place,” he says.

I watch the droplets of rain make tracks down the car window,

then disappear. I can’t stay here for much longer without getting

emotional. “Just so you know, I don’t regret tonight. Not one bit.”

He looks right at me. The outside lights shine on his beautiful,

strong face. “Listen, I need to figure things out. Everything is so—”

“Complicated,” I say, finishing his sentence. “Let me m-m-make this

easy for you, then. I’m not stupid to think things have changed just b-

b-because we had sex. You made it p-pperfectly clear from the

beginning you weren’t looking for a girlfriend. There, now I

uncomplicated everything. You’re free and clear.”

“Kiara—”

I can’t stand to hear him tell me what a mistake tonight was,

despite my declaration that it didn’t have to mean anything. I get out

of the car, but instead of running through the rain, I head straight for

my car. I need to be in a place where I can think and cry without

anyone hearing me. Right now, my car is my sanctuary. If Carlos would

just drive off, I could cry in peace.

He opens his window and motions for me to open mine. When I do,

he tries to say something. His voice barely carries through the sound

of the rain coming down hard between us. I lean out the car window.

“What?”

He leans out his window, meeting me halfway. We’re both wet and