Fallout (Crank 3)

Put your hand back where it belongs.

HE TURNS OFF THE MAIN ROAD

Onto a narrow strip of potholed

pavement. It leads to a small parking

area. River access, and this time

of year, there’s no one else here.

My heart beats against my chest

like eagle wings against heavy air.

Kyle throws the shifter into park,

pushes me over enough to slide

out from beneath the steering

wheel. In almost the same motion,

he yanks me into his lap and our

lips weld together. Heated. Urgent.

This is not a kiss of friendship.

This is a kiss born of lust, and I have

never known anything like it.

This is unstoppable, no holds

barred. This is beautiful.

Crazy. A beginning. Betrayal.

Addictive. Aggressive. Alive.

This is something to be afraid of.

I AM CERTAIN OF THAT

Yet even as my brain cries, “Slow down,”

my body insists, “Give me more.” Kyle’s

hands move over me and his touch

is nothing like Matt’s clumsy

investigation. Somehow, these

hands have intimate knowledge

of the heights and depths of my body.