Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
NORA
My heart is thrumming fast in my chest, and my blood feels hot. Everything is turned up to a ten, and then Cormac slides up beside me and takes my hand without asking, his fingers weaving between mine.
“What bad decision are we about to make?” he asks.
I sneak a look at him. “We’re going to eat an apple.”
“Original sin. Cool.”
I bump my shoulder into him, and to my surprise he wraps his long arm around me, as if this is something we’ve been doing for years.
I’d rather flay myself than admit it, but it feels nice.
I guide us toward Gallagher Park, the park at the edge of town with a few rows of apple trees. There are plenty of orchards clustered around Apple Ridge, but Gallagher Park is special. The apples are free, and the view is to die for.
It’s also five thousand fucking degrees out right now and the absolute wrong season for picking apples. No sane person would be in Gallagher Park. Hopefully, that means we can steal some time alone.
He glances at me as we reach the wrought iron filigree gates. “Are we going to get lost in the woods again?”
“No way. Why do you think you’re here? You’re my personal Magellan.”
His smile fills his whole face, and I lift up to kiss his cheek.
“What are we—”
“We’re just having some fun. We’re not going to worry about anything right now,” I say, because I don’t have answers for him. I only know that I don’t want the night to end, and I’d like to kiss him again somewhere more private, where we’re less likely to get interrupted.
He swears under his breath, which makes me smile.
Flustering Cormac is a rare pleasure.
We walk through the gates together, and I lead him to the thicket of apple trees, frowning because none of the little globular apples look ripe enough to eat. While I knew it wasn’t the right month for them, I’d hoped one of the varieties would be ready early.
“We’re supposed to pick an apple.”
“It would feel like infanticide,” he says, with a slight smile.
I shove him, my hand clinging to his shirt. He sets his hand over it and lifts his eyebrows. “We could buy one from the store and pretend.”
I let my hand drift up the length of his shirt, and he swallows.
“Or I could eat a different apple.” I lean in and lightly bite his Adam’s apple.
I feel the vibration of his groan. “Nora. You’re killing me.”
“Kiss me.”
He backs me up to the trunk of the small tree, the leaves brushing my hair, the heady scents of earthy greenery and apples and Cormac all around me.
Then he removes his glasses and tucks them into his pocket—a gesture I never realized could be this hot—before lowering his head and brushing his lips over mine.
That first kiss is so gentle I gasp. But the second my mouth opens, his tongue finds mine, and suddenly I need the tree against my back.
My hands lift to his hair, and his glossy chestnut curls tumble through my fingers as he pulls me closer with a hand at my back.
We keep kissing like we don’t know how to stop, and it feels indescribably good.
Almost like we’re reclaiming something lost.
I slide my hand beneath the hem of his shirt, needing to feel the heat of him under my palm. He sucks in a breath and then his hand eases up the back of my shirt too, his fingers brushing my flesh before digging in slightly as he tugs me closer.
He whispers my name against my lips and kisses me again and again.
“Well, you definitely don’t need any kissing lessons.”
He gives me a rueful look. “Is that what you thought you were doing, Nora? Helping me be a better kisser for another woman?”
I bite his bottom lip, and he laughs before tipping my head back and claiming my mouth again.
We hear the footsteps moving through the brush at the same time, and he pulls away, his hair an absolute disaster that makes me grin.
A couple of minutes later, a middle-aged couple passes us, the woman giving us a knowing look.
“Hello there,” Cormac says. “Pretty warm out here, huh?”
I bite my tongue to keep from laughing as they nod and continue past us.
“You think they knew anything was up?” he murmurs.
“Oh, absolutely.” I turn toward him and run my fingers along the hem of his shirt. “Now, come on, we’ve got to get to the bench before they do.”
“What bench?” he asks, but I’m already running, laughing, and he starts running with me. “Come on, Nora! I can’t see. Everything’s blurry.”
I’m still smiling as we pass the bewildered-looking couple and continue up the gravel path winding up the hill. Please let no one be there. Please let no one be there…
We crest the hill, reaching the top, and there it is, like magic—the bench on the hill, empty and waiting.
The mountains roll out to either side, breathtaking and mysteriously blue, despite being lined with furry green foliage and trees.
The sun has started its descent in earnest, and layers of orange and pink hug the mountains.
“The view,” Cormac says.
“The view,” I agree with a smile as I reach into his pocket and retrieve his glasses. I unfold them and settle them on the bridge of his nose, his eyes holding mine the whole time, even though one of the best views WNC has to offer is laid out before him.
We sit side by side on the bench. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I lean against him. “You made me think of it when you mentioned the Mountain High Marathon.”
He angles his head to peer at me. “So, I finally get to do the Mountain High Marathon. Lucky me.”
“Nah, that would definitely be cheating. And you don’t strike me as a cheater.”
“Does this mean we have to trespass at the high school?” he asks, leaning in, his hair brushing my face. “Because I accept.”
“Cormac takes things too far,” I murmur against his cheek, and he surprises me by wrapping both of his broad hands around my waist and lifting me onto his lap.
“I think I’d like to,” he says. “You’ve always made me want to.”
“Because you like difficult women.”
“Because I like you.”
And then he’s kissing me again as the colors in the sky continue to shift.
I take his glasses off again, and we make out until my lips are bruised, the sun lowering further and further, casting us eventually into darkness.
He reaches under my dress, his warm hands cupping my thighs and my butt, and starts caressing my leg.
One hand gets so close to where I want it, and after a while, I can’t bear it anymore—
I take his hand and slide it under the band of my underwear.
He jolts and pulls away enough to meet my eyes.
“I want you to touch me,” I say, my voice soft and breathy. “I need it.”
“Anyone could walk up here.”
“I know.”
He swears under his breath, then slowly slides his fingertips further under the band of my underwear as he kisses me again. Sensation darts through me with every soft pass of his fingers. He’s taking his time, being thorough.
He brushes his lips against my neck as his fingers finally glide between my legs. He watches me while he does it, his eyes soaking me in as he traces me there, and oh God…
An inhuman sound escapes me, and a fire seems to light in him. He thrusts his finger inside of me and grazes his teeth lightly over my neck. “Tell me where it feels good, Nora. I want to make you feel good.”
I want that too.
It’s been so long since I’ve fully trusted myself with a man.
He slides in another finger, and I moan as he curls them slightly, nearly hitting the right spot but not quite.
“Up a little,” I say, and then I guide his hand. “There.”
And fuck, he really listens. His fingers rub me in exactly the right spot, moving in competent circles as he continues to kiss me, the sun setting in honeyed layers of color across from us.
It’s a beautiful moment. A transcendent moment, and I cannot think much beyond where I am now and who I’m with.
This is why I like to take things too far. Because in those stolen moments that never should have been yours, you can be truly yourself.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against my lips as his fingers play me as skillfully as he plays his guitar. Raw pleasure spirals through me as his lips lower to my neck, his fingers continuing their perfect rhythm.
“Cormac, I’m going to—”
Before I finish the words, my body takes over, clenching around him, my mouth parting as pleasure surges through me. He kisses my open mouth, his free hand sifting through my hair, and in that moment, I feel so open to him, so vulnerable. But it’s not frightening. In fact, it feels good.
I try to get closer to him, burying my face into his neck, burrowing into him.
I can feel his hardness against me, and part of me—the part that always wants to push the envelope until it’s torn—wants to suggest that we use the condom I totally filched from Pansy.
Right here, where anyone could come across us.
Or maybe we could rent a room for a couple of hours.
I can already tell it would be good with him. It would be memorable.
Cormac might not know how to sweet talk a woman in a bar, but he knows how to touch a woman. He’s shockingly good at it. Better than anyone who’s touched me in years, maybe ever.
Cormac isn’t just some random guy, though.
He’s my stepbrother, technically speaking.
And if we have sex on top of this hill, then it’s the only thing I’m going to think about every time I see him.
For the rest of my life. Every time he asks me to pass the carrots at the Thanksgiving table, I’ll think about straddling him on this bench…
My thoughts begin to spiral as panic grips me.
What the fuck am I doing?
This was supposed to be a show for José and Pansy, but they must have left town hours ago.
I pull away from Cormac. My eyes lock onto his—the soft gray nearly black now that the sun’s gone.
“You think this was a mistake,” he says.
I hesitate, my heart pounding, and I suddenly feel a little sick. “Not a mistake. We were in character.”
“Right.” He slips his glasses out of his pocket and slides them back onto his face. “In character.”