You Send Me (2 page)

M
illie wrapped her cardigan tighter around her as she walked along the shoreline in the dark. Overhead, a million stars twinkled in the chill air, and she felt a world away from Chicago—a world away from her usual life.

She couldn’t believe she’d really done it. She’d told her mother and father she was taking a walk around the lake by herself, and they’d actually let her. Her father had looked skeptical, but then said, “Well, I suppose it’s safe. But don’t be gone long. And don’t get near the water where you could slip and fall in.”

She almost felt guilty, knowing the lake was hardly what had drawn her out tonight. But she was too busy being nervous to let a little guilt count for much at the moment.

However, the boathouse was bathed in darkness as she approached, lit only by the crescent moon overhead, so maybe she’d come out for nothing—maybe Johnny Pickett had only been teasing her, and was now somewhere laughing at her for taking him seriously, or worse, not even thinking about her at all.

Yet as she walked out onto the dock, she heard music echoing faintly from inside the building, the Platters harmonizing on “Great Pretender.” And quick as that, Johnny
appeared on the dock, his T-shirt now hidden by a black leather jacket that made him look all the more threatening in the same dark, exciting way that had drawn her to him earlier.

“You came,” he said, but he didn’t sound remotely surprised.

“You said I’d find out why. So…why?”

Even in the dim light, she could see a hint of hesitance in his eyes—and instead of answering, he simply took her hand and led her to the edge of the dock. Together they sat down, arms touching, and she was starting to feel a lot less cold, even if a little awkward.

She was waiting for him to answer her, but instead he asked why she was in Moose Falls. So she explained about her graduation and her father’s business trip—then decided she’d been rambling and went quiet.

Johnny told her his family owned the new restaurant and the boathouse, and that his father hoped to build up the town’s tourism. “We even have our own radio station now—fella who just bought the general store started it—but that tower’s so rickety I doubt it’ll last.” He laughed softly, yet as he’d said it all, she’d thought he sounded sort of sad.

“You’d rather be somewhere else?” she asked, reading his voice. She understood what it was to feel trapped in your own life.

“
Anywhere
else,” he confirmed. Then flinched. “Not right now, though. With you here, there’s no place else I’d want to go.”

Oh. My.

Her whole body tingled as Johnny looked into her eyes, adding, “You’re so pretty, Millie. I just wanted to spend time with you.”

“You’re…you’re…” Oh goodness, what
was
he? She stopped trying to figure it out, though, when he tilted his head and leaned closer, closer, until his mouth pressed
against hers.

She froze at first, stunned, but then the warmth and pleasure melted through her and she instinctively kissed him back. And…mmm, she’d never been kissed like
this
before—his mouth moved against hers like something hot and liquid, tenderly devouring her.

When finally the kiss ended, her breath came heavy, her chest heaving beneath her sweater. Their faces stayed agonizingly close. “I’m what?” he asked.

“You’re…a really good kisser,” she managed.

And he laughed, just slightly—before kissing her again.

After that, she stopped thinking. All she knew were Johnny’s hands, gently cupping her face, and his mouth, and tongue, pushing past her lips. She gasped at that, but then realized how good it felt to kiss with their tongues, how it sent still more startlingly pleasant sensations rocketing through her.

Soon she found herself clutching at his shoulders, then curling her fingers into his warm, firm chest through his T-shirt. Tonight he smelled like musk and cool air and wood smoke. On the radio inside, she vaguely heard the disc jockey say, “Here’s the new one by Sam Cooke,” before the gentle, sweeping melody of “You Send Me” permeated the night air with romance.

When Johnny’s palm left her face, drifting down, gently down, to finally caress her breast, she moaned against his mouth as the shocking pleasure assaulted her. Her breath hitched as he molded her soft flesh in his large hand. Nothing in her life had ever felt so utterly delicious and captivating, spreading through her like the flow of warm molasses.

Her body took over as he laid her back on the dock, massaging her breast, kissing her lips, making her lose her sense of place and time until nothing mattered but him. When his kisses spanned her neck, she instinctually leaned
her head back, and when
both
his hands covered her breasts, she only arched higher into his heated grasp.

As his kisses moved down onto her chest, she let out another soft moan. She yearned for him to push her sweater aside, to undo the buttons on her blouse. She’d never wanted that before—and now, she’d never wanted anything more.

Johnny breathed harder, too, as he deftly popped her top button—then another, and another. She sucked in the night air, and Johnny kissed his way closer to her breast as he reached inside her blouse to push her bra strap down.

And then his hand was on her bared breast, caressing, driving her wild, just before his wet mouth closed over her nipple. She let out a high whimper at the first exquisite pull, relishing the low groan from his throat. Her scalp tingled as she dug her fingernails into the leather at his shoulders, and the sound of her thready breath mingled with the chirp of crickets in the trees.

That’s when she realized what she’d done, what she’d let happen. It was unthinkable!

She pushed him away and sat up briskly, pulling her clothes back together. “I have to go,” she said, pushing to her feet.

“Millie, don’t be upset,” he said. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not! I’m not that kind of girl,” she replied, starting away from him.

“Please wait.” He hurried to stand up behind her, but she turned her attention ahead and rushed away from the dock, saying, “I can’t. I’ll be late. I have to go.”

T
he following afternoon, Betsy worked a crossword puzzle on one of the beds in their room while Millie sat looking at herself in the mirror. Their parents were gone to lunch at the Allens’ house, and all Millie had managed to do today was sulk and stare at herself. Was she really pretty? Or had Johnny just said that to take advantage of her? What must he think of her now? And
oh
—what if he told anyone and it got back to her
parents
? She’d never been more mortified at her own behavior—but at the time it had just felt so wonderful, and he’d been so amazing that she’d been unable to resist.

When a knock came on the door, she and Bet exchanged glances, then she reasoned, “Maybe Dad forgot his key,” and rose to answer.

On the other side stood Johnny, handsome and muscular, holding a bouquet of freshly picked daisies. She gasped.

“These are for you.”

She swallowed nervously, taking the flowers from his hand. Then she glanced over her shoulder to Bet—who was staring but jerked her gaze back to her crossword—and hoped Johnny realized they weren’t alone.

He lowered his voice accordingly. “Why did you run away?”

She spoke quietly, too. “I told you—I’m not that kind of girl.”

“There’s nothing wrong with what we did last night,” he said, looking irritated. “I like you.”

She shook her head, incredulous. “You don’t even
know
me.”

“I know you enough. Enough to see how nice you are.
Deep-down
nice. You’re special, Millie, I can tell.”

Despite not wanting to fall for smooth talk, that part caught her attention, burrowing down inside her as she stood gazing into his emerald green eyes.

“Come back tonight,” he whispered, leaning closer. “Let me
show
you how special you are.”

She was trying to catch her breath and decide how to answer—when her father appeared behind Johnny in the doorway. “Daddy,” she said, stunned. She hardly ever called him that anymore, and what a rotten time to act—and feel—like a little girl. “This is, um, Johnny. He works at the canoe rental.”

Her father cast Johnny a dubious glare, then his gaze dropped to the flowers in Millie’s fist. “I think it’s time for you to go,” he said rudely to Johnny.

Johnny’s eyes darkened, but after a glance at Millie, he finally said, “You have a fine daughter, sir,” then turned and walked away.

Once they were inside with the door shut, her father scowled. “Flowers?”

“I…suppose he took a liking to me when we met yesterday. And they’re only flowers.” Actually, she
loved
the flowers, and loved even more knowing that he’d gathered them himself. It made her heart do flip-flops in her chest.

“Carl Allen
told
me about him. He’s older than you—twenty-six—and he went to Korea, saw a lot of battle. Since
then, he’s done nothing with himself—and only just recently started helping his father with the canoe business. He’s a rough character, Millie, not someone you should be associating with. Understand?”

What choice did she have? “Yes, Father,” she heard herself say. As always.

T
hat night found Millie in a canoe with Johnny, gliding across the dark, glassy surface of Spirit Lake toward a place he called Misty Isle. Maybe she was crazy. Because this time she’d actually snuck out after everyone was asleep, knowing she might be caught but also knowing her father would never let her go walking by herself after Johnny’s visit.

And Johnny had been to war. It explained his tattoo and maybe the sadness in his voice at times. Going out to an island with him meant putting her trust in him, and perhaps that was foolish. But at the same time,
not
going with him,
not
grabbing on to the only bit of excitement that had ever found its way into her life, seemed impossible. Somehow she knew that if she didn’t go with Johnny to Misty Isle tonight, she would wither and die inside.

“My father says you served in Korea,” she said as he guided the canoe smoothly over the water.

He nodded, looked tentative, but then met her gaze in the moonlight. “It…changed me. It made me…less than I want to be. That’s why…”

He stopped, and she said, “What?”

“That’s why meeting you was special. You’re the first thing to make me feel normal—happy—in the years since I came home.”

Millie bit her lip as the warmth of a blush climbed her cheeks, making her thankful for the darkness. “No one’s ever thought I was special before.”

“Then you must be surrounded by fools.” He glanced over his shoulder, back toward the motel, getting farther away each second. “Sorry if I got you in hot water with your dad.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I love him, but I’ve been very angry with him lately.”

“Why?”

Millie told Johnny about her father’s overprotective nature and how he’d quashed her dreams of going to Appalachia. “I know it would be a hard life, but I also know I could do some good there, and that means everything to me. He says it’s because he needs me at work, but I know it’s really just because he doesn’t think I can take care of myself.”

Johnny stayed quiet for a moment, then said, “Nothing against your dad, but either way, sounds kind of selfish. On the other hand, though, I can’t fault the guy for loving you.”

After reaching Misty Isle, a small patch of ground covered with fog and tall, thin pines, they sat on the shore and talked. Johnny told her more about the war, things he had seen, how the whole awful experience had left him empty inside. Millie shared with him her yearning to leave home, to find and build something of her own before it was too late, before she ended up like Annette, doing nothing but making pot roast for the rest of her life. “There has to be more, I think,” she told him. “More to life than doing what everyone else wants you to.”

“I admire you, Millie. The thing you most want to do is something that helps other people. You should be proud of that.”

She only shrugged—she’d never thought of it that way before, but his words made her feel good.

Johnny said, “What you told me last night, about not being that kind of girl—did you
feel
that, like you’d done something wrong, or is that just what you’ve been taught to think?”

Millie drew in her breath at the boldness of the question. And at the sad truth in it. “It…didn’t feel wrong…until I remembered it was.” She gasped at the realization, then said, “Johnny, I’ve never…” She shook her head. “At all.”

He cast a gentle smile. “I know. And it’s okay. We don’t have to mess around. We don’t even have to kiss. I just like being with you.”

And that’s when it hit her. It
wasn’t
okay. Because she
wanted
him to kiss her. With every fiber in her body, she wanted his touches, his kisses…and more. “Please,” she heard herself whisper without warning.

He looked understandably confused. “Please what?”

“Please kiss me. And please don’t stop. Please make me forget what everyone else wants me to be. Help me be what
I
want to be…and what
you
want me to be.” Chills ran down her spine, not only from the cool Montana night air but because they were the most liberating words she’d ever spoken.

And so Johnny looked into her eyes and lifted one hand to her cheek—and he kissed her, slow, deep, swallowing. And Millie kissed him back, timidly at first as she learned how to really kiss a man, but then more aggressively, with all the passion hidden away deep inside her.

When Johnny’s sure hand caressed her breast, she didn’t shrink away or panic this time—she let herself feel the pleasure, the freedom, the excitement it built within her. And when he pushed her crewneck sweater up over her head, she didn’t say no. When, moments later, his mouth sank to her breast, she relished the deep, stirring joy that
echoed through her and didn’t hold in the moans of delight that burst from her throat.

When Johnny raised her A-line skirt, she felt nervous, but not from shame, only from never having done this before. “Teach me how,” she heard herself whisper.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured in heated reply, kissing his way across the front of her panties. “Nothing to teach. Just let it happen—just let go and do what comes naturally.”

So that’s what Millie did, lifting against his mouth when he kissed between her thighs, and crying out as she reached an ecstasy she couldn’t have imagined. That’s what she did, boldly parting her legs for him, asking him to make love to her. That’s what she did as he eased inside her—she clenched her teeth through the initial pinch of pain and then felt the wonder of having their bodies joined, of sharing that ultimate connection with a man. It was different than she’d expected—it evoked more of an emotional pleasure in her than a physical one at first—but she found herself wrapping her bare legs around his thighs, pulling him close, wanting to be a part of him, wanting him to be a part of her.

“I want to make you come again,” he breathed, reaching between their bodies, rubbing his fingers into the spot where he’d licked her before. Oh—
amazing!

But…“Come?” she asked on a hot sigh.

“Climax. Like when I used my mouth on you.”

She pulled in her breath, pleasure mounting. “Oh…” she murmured. Come. She liked that. It sounded as if she was…joining him somewhere. Somewhere very good. And very intimate.

And even as he moved in her, she leaned her head back and felt that strange new pleasure rising, rising in her, again—until it felt as if an explosion took place at the juncture of her thighs. She moaned loudly and cried out his name—and then he rasped, “Me too, Millie. I’m coming in
you. Coming in you.” And he thrust harder, and it jarred her, almost even hurt, but she didn’t care because of the almost agonized pleasure on Johnny’s face. She’d made him feel that. Her. No one else. She’d taken him to the same place he’d just taken her. And now they were there
together
.