Chapter 5
He looks so aloof standing there, taking a puff of his cigarette. The lit end glows red in the dark. The scent of burning tobacco reaches me. A pleasant smell. A very grown-up smell. One that brings to mind night clubs and secret trysts. The heels of my stilettos sink into the grass. I stagger then straighten myself to find he’s watching me. The moonlight is bright enough that his eyes glitter. He’s so still. Like an apex predator lying in wait for his prey. I have a sudden inkling that this is how he lies in wait for his enemies when on a mission, too. As I draw closer, he brings the cigarette to his mouth and puffs on it. When he exhales, twin streams of smoke emerge from his nostrils. There’s something in his stance that tells me he’s not happy to see me. Or maybe, it’s the remote expression on his face.
"What are you doing here?" he growls.
The hard edge to his voice elicits a rush of arousal between my legs. My thighs tremble. My pussy feels like it’s going to combust with need. Oh god. There’s also something else in his tone. Anger? Something on the verge of hate, maybe? My steps falter. I stop a foot away from him, wanting to get closer… But the stiffness in his shoulders and the granite edge to his jaw tell me it would be more prudent to keep some distance between us.
"I… I wondered where you were."
"I needed some time away from you; can you respect that?" he says through gritted teeth.
Something inside me curls up and dies a little at his tone. Why is he so angry with me? "I’m not sure what I did, but the least you could do is be civil to me. On the other hand—" I toss my head. "On the other hand, I’m realizing I probably shouldn’t expect anything from you. You’ve been acting strange since you arrived. If you didn’t want to be here, then you shouldn’t have come. My brother would have understood. And I’d certainly not have missed you, just so you’re aware. But now that you’re here, you could try not to spoil my birthday." I pivot and begin to walk away when he swears under his breath.
"Skylar, stop."
I raise my middle finger over my shoulder. Whatever. I might be attracted to him, but I can do without a growly, grumpy Marine with an attitude problem screwing up what’s supposed to be a very special day for me. I continue walking away when he curls his fingers around my wrist. "I’m sorry, Skye, I didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on you."
I tug on my hand, and he releases it and steps back. "Sorry I didn’t mean to touch you," He drags his fingers through his hair. It stands on end and softens his features. There’s more than a touch of frustration in his eyes. "I really am sorry that I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. It’s why I came out here. To minimize any chance of my causing any discomfort to you."
"I don’t understand. How could you hurt me?"
He laughs, the sound bitter. "Just by talking to you, I could hurt you."
"Meaning?" I tilt my head.
"You’re a smart woman, Skye. Don’t pretend you’re not aware what this is about. "
He called me a woman, so that’s good. At least, he acknowledges that I’m not a silly girl. At least, he looks at me differently than when he first arrived. I nod slowly. "You mean the attraction between us?"
His gaze grows cautious. "It would be remiss of me if I didn’t admit that I do feel the chemistry, between us, but?—"
"There’s always a but, isn’t there?" I scoff.
"—but I swear, before today, I never thought of you in any way but as Ben’s little sister."
I throw up my hands. "I’m eighteen now."
"So you keep saying." His lips twist. "It doesn’t change anything, Skye."
"What do you mean?" I frown. "It changes everything."
"Doesn’t change the fact that you’re Ben’s?—"
"Sister, I know. But I’m not your sister, am I?"
He reels back as if I slapped him, then seems to get a hold of himself. "No… You’re not. And after today, I’ll never think of you as my sister."
"Did you—" I swallow. "Was there a time that you did think of me as your sister?"
He hesitates. "I saw you as Ben’s sibling. And in that sense, I felt protective toward you. But in all honesty, I didn’t think much of you in any way."
It’s my turn to flinch. "Thanks."
His lips twist. "Now you’re upset."
"No, yes… I don’t know. I suppose, I’m relieved there were no familial feelings toward me on your end, for there definitely weren’t on mine."
He rubs at his temple. "It would have been wrong and very creepy if I had seen you in any way other than being Ben’s much younger sibling."
"Yeah." I hunch my shoulders. "But none of this helps me at all. I feel…what I feel toward you. And I’m aware you think it’s some kind of crush?—"
"Which it is," he says in a firm voice.
"It may have started out that way, but… It grew into something ov er the years. And when I saw you today… I…think… No. I know, I’m falling for you."
He looks so stricken that I slap my forehead. "I shouldn’t have said that. Please forget I said that. It was a slip of the tongue. It was…nothing."
"It’s something." His voice is so gentle, so soft, that familiar flutter starts up in my chest and slides down to the space between my legs.
"Don’t minimize what you’re feeling, Skye. But also… You should know, it’s wrong."
"Why is it wrong?" I slap my hand on my hip. "Tell me. You’re only fifteen years older than me."
"That’s more than a generation apart. It might not mean much to you, but when you’re thirty, I’ll be forty-five."
"A very hot forty-five," I retort.
"And when you’re forty, I’ll be fifty-five."
"A gorgeous silver fox…" I try to keep the dreamy tone out of my voice and fail.
His lips tighten. "This can’t be. There can be nothing between us. Skye. You think you’re falling for me?—"
"I know it. You can’t change how I’m feeling," I snap.
He nods slowly. "You’re smart and stubborn, all good traits. But you haven’t lived enough. You don’t have the experience to know what you want, Skye."
The finality in his tone, the hard set of his jaw, all of it tells me he’s made up his mind and I can’t budge him.
"I know what I want," I say with desperation. "I do."
He looks at me with a sad smile. "Goodbye, Skye." He turns to leave.
My heart drops to my feet. No, no, no. He can’t just leave. Not like this.
"Wait, I know what I want from you for my birthday."
He pauses, then glances at me over his shoulder. "For your birthday?" His voice is puzzled.
"You didn’t bring me a gift. And now, I know what I want from you. It’s something you can give me too. "
He doesn’t look very convinced. He angles his body in my direction, and when he scans my face, a glint of suspicions enters his eyes. "I have a feeling I’m going to regret this, but—fine, I’ll bite, what is it?"
I look away, then back at him. My heart slams into my ribcage. My pulse rate spikes. I swallow down the nervousness that clogs my throat and croak, "A kiss. I want a kiss from you."
He stiffens but doesn’t look very surprised. "I had a feeling that’s what you might ask for."
"So, you’re worldly wise and more experienced and can anticipate my moves. The question is, do you have the courage to fulfill my request?" I tip up my chin.
He draws in a sharp breath. His massive chest rises and falls.
I’d do anything. Anything …to be held against him. Just once. Just today. On my eighteenth birthday. Please, God. Please. I so want him. And I have no doubt, once he walks out of here, he’ll make sure our paths don’t cross again. Once he makes up his mind, I won’t be able to change it. But as long as he’s here, surely, I can find a way to prolong this for just a little while longer.
"Please?" I swallow. "Please, Nate. A kiss. For my eighteenth birthday." I take a step forward and another. "Just a kiss. Something for me to remember you by?" I close the distance until I’m standing in front of him. So close that the tips of my stilettos brushes up against his large, army-issue boots. "Please?" I tip up my chin. "It’s just a kiss." I rise up on tip toes. "Just a kiss. Nate."
He stands rigidly, his arms tucked into his sides, his jaw turned to granite, a nerve throbbing at his temple. He scans my features, a tortured look on his own. And when I flatten my palm against his chest, he flinches. He doesn’t pull away though. The tendons of his throat stand out in relief. A look of anguish flickers across his face. "You don’t know what you’re doing," he whispers, his gaze locked on my mouth.
"I do. I simply want to know your taste. Just once, Nate. Something to tide me over. Something to remember you and make my eighteenth birthday special. You’ll do that much for me, won’t you?"
Without waiting for his reply. I dig my hands into the front of his jacket, then jump up and manage to brush my lips against the hollow at the base of his throat. He groans. The sound is so masculine, so strained. So filled with longing and a regret which I push aside. All I want is one kiss. That’s not going to hurt either of us, is it? I jump up again, and this time, manage to brush my nose against the underside of his chin.
His scent, like an ocean-breeze with an undercurrent of something darker, more complex, invades my senses. The vibrations of the sound ripple up his chest and sink into my blood. Then I gasp, for he’s grabbed me under my butt and pulled me into him.
I instantly strain upward, reaching for his lips. Just. One. Kiss. He lowers his chin slowly, until his nose bumps mine. And the warmth of his breath sears my cheek. And his lips hover a hairsbreadth from mine. My nipples tighten. My stomach flip-flops. The insistent hardness that stabs between my legs makes it clear to me exactly how much he wants me. It’s so large, so very male, so Nathan that my head spins. He wants me. He does. Courage sweeps through my veins. I lean in until my lips touch his. Soft. So soft. It’s a whisper of a kiss. Softer than I could have imagined. Much softer than what a hard, brooding man like him should be capable of. Then the tone changes. He squeezes my arse cheeks, and a shudder runs up my spine.
He hauls me up, and I lock my ankles behind him. He fits me snugly over that tent at his crotch. His length is strong and insistent and so big. My insides turn to jelly.
I press my breasts into his chest, throw my arms about his neck and when he tilts his head and swipes his tongue over the seam of my lower lip, I open my mouth. Instantly, he sweeps his tongue in and over mine. And deepens the kiss. He sucks on my tongue, drinks from me, and ravages my mouth, until I feel like he’s swallowing me whole. I press myself against him, desperate to feel as much of him against me as I can. I dig my fingertips into his broad shoulders and strain against him, opening myself up to him. The kiss seems to go on and on. My first kiss and oh god, things will never be the same again. I’ll never be kissed like this by anyone else again. I know it. And that makes me desperate for more. My head spins .
I writhe against him, trying to get closer, wanting to revel in his heat and roll around in his scent and wear it, so anyone who comes near me will know I’m his. His. I make a noise deep in the back of my throat, and that seems to cut through the sexual haze that’s tightened around us for, suddenly, he tears his mouth from mine and stares into my eyes, his own lust filled.
His chest heaves, and his breath comes in gusts that seem to swell his shoulders. He rakes his gaze across my features, like he’s seeing me for the first time. Like he wants to throw me down and mount me right there.
“Nate…” I breathe.
“Starling,” he whispers against my lips.
The sound of his voice seemed to cut through his reverie, for the next second, he releases me. My feet hit the ground. He takes a step back so quickly, I stumble. He straightens me, and when I find my balance, he lets go of me again. A look of confusion, then regret, then anger sweeps over his features. I feel his rejection even before he blanks all expression from his face.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Skye.” He turns on his heel and walks out of my birthday celebration, and our house. And my life.
To find out what happens next - read Skylar it’s my whole life. What I've worked toward since I was sixteen and knew I was going to become the most phenomenal baker in the world. And now, I'm going to lose it.
“Sure, you can do it.” My brother encourages me from the doorway. “You can do anything you set your mind to.”
“That’s what I used to think. It’s why I started this pastry shop.” I was twelve when I discovered I was good at baking. That, combined with my love for desserts, meant I knew what I wanted to do with my life.