Fortuity (Transcend 3)

“Jerk …” I try to push away when he releases me to catch a breath.

His response is to pull me back to him for another kiss. My fight washes away with the tide, leaving me with my arms and legs wrapped around him. At some point, I forget where we are, losing all sense of direction and time. He becomes the only north I need.

Goose bumps scatter along my skin from the night’s soft breath. Capable arms carry me up the beach as he kisses my lips, along my jaw, and down my neck.

“Don’t hate me,” he whispers, releasing me to my feet.

“What are you doin—NATE!”

He sprays me with the hose, and the water is colder than the ocean. I shudder, hugging myself as he quickly rinses himself off.

“T-t-towel …”

“No towel. Sorry.” He chuckles, grabbing my hand and pulling me behind him, making a slight detour to grab the dropped box of condoms. “I didn’t exactly plan this, but we need to get rid of our wet clothes.” Stopping at his door, he traps the condoms under his arm and grabs the hem of my tee.

I stiffen my arms to stop him from peeling off my shirt. “Sorry.” I release a nervous laugh. “Instinct. I suppose you saw them earlier.”

He dips his head and brushes his lips over mine. “I did.”

I relax my arms, letting him work my soaked shirt up my torso. It lands on the deck with a slap.

He kisses me.

I remind myself he’s not mine.

His patient hands work my shorts down my legs, leaving me naked and incredibly vulnerable.

He kisses me.

I remind myself he’s not mine.

My shaky hands pull off his shorts and briefs.

He kisses me.

I remind myself he’s not mine.

With the box of condoms in one hand and mine in his other hand, he guides me into the house, up the stairs, and to his bedroom.

Maybe my own insecurities obscure my ability to see him as anything short of perfect, but he touches me with steady hands, confident lips, and a strength that tips my world on its side.

A breathless anticipation settles into my chest when he pulls away, leaving me naked in the center of his bed as he rolls on a condom. How is he not shaking? I’m certain the only sound in the room is my body quivering right down to my bones.

“You’re so sexy …” He grins, pressing his hands to my knees.

I smile.

“And beautiful.”

He’s not mine. He’s not mine. He’s not mine.

I pretend he’s a foster puppy—cute, playful, irresistible, but temporary. The cuteness will wear off. The playfulness will turn into destruction, and the irresistible part will turn into responsibility. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone’s happiness, not even Gabe’s. I’m just trying to keep him safe, fed, and educated for the next eight years. He can go find his own happiness after that.

“What if you don’t remember?” I smirk as he parts my bent knees and glides his hands along my thighs.

“What if I don’t remember how to have sex?” It’s too dark to clearly see the expression on his face. He’s nothing more than a silhouette, but I imagine the bend of his lips conveys complete confidence.

“Well …” I can’t hide the break in my voice, my nerves cracking my words. “I’m sure you can remember where things go, but there’s an art to this.”

He settles between my legs, propped up on his arms, hovering above me like an animal trapping its prey. With every dip of his head to kiss along my hip bone, my stomach, my breasts, he taunts me. My breaths quicken, and my hips lift from the bed, searching for him.

“I’ll let you decide later,” he whispers along my neck as a finger slides between my legs.

My breath catches, and I release it with a soft moan just before his mouth captures mine. It’s slow like my fingers threading through his hair, like his body lowering to mine, like the way he fills me.

I don’t expect such patience. He wasn’t patient earlier when we couldn’t find the condoms. It’s been a decade. I expect things to move along rather quickly.

They don’t.

Now that we’re here in the moment, he takes his time. Two tangled bodies. The glow of the moon and the stars filtering through the thin curtains just enough that I can see the glint in his eyes when he rolls us over, me straddling him. His hands slide to my breasts. I cover them with mine, closing my eyes as we move slowly together.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm?” He hums in my ear with his chest to my back, our legs scissored, and his arms enveloping me.

Reality remains shrouded in darkness. I’m not sure what time it is, but he seems fine with me staying here, so I don’t think about my wet clothes on the porch or anyone holding me accountable in the morning.