Cora Carmack - Seeking Her

“Nothing in particular. It just seemed like an interesting place.” She used that foot to pull me forward, and I didn’t resist. “What about you?”

I kept my touch light, even though I wanted to grip her legs and pull them open for me to slide between. “Following a whim,” I answered.

Her tongue darted across her bottom lip, and I was a goner.

She said, “Do you ever get any less cryptic?”

“I thought women liked a mystery.”

Her eyes were hooded, and I couldn’t even bring myself to feel guilty about any of this.

“Women love a mystery. But only if we think we can figure it out. Are you going to let me figure you out, Hunt?”

She couldn’t. Not ever.

I gripped the edge of her stool and leaned down to her ear. Her skin smelled salty and sweet. “That’s a two-­way street, princess.”

And God did I want to figure her out, even though I couldn’t return the favor. Not just her personality or her past. Every part of her. I wanted to know her like the back of my hand.

I was two seconds away from beginning that process, my eyes trained on her collarbone, the first place I wanted to taste. Then Jenny popped up right next to us.

“We’re going back in the bath, you two coming?”

I pulled away. Damn it, I had to keep pulling away. That was too close. I took advantage of Jenny’s distraction to place my drink on the bar, out of range.

Kelsey held up a glass that was still almost full and said, “We’re still working on these. You guys go. Have fun.”

After Jenny left, Kelsey took a sip of her drink, fixing her eyes on me.

It didn’t take Kelsey long to notice the absence of my glass. “You’ve not touched your drink. I know it looks a little girlie, but I swear you’ll like it.”

I sat on the stool next to hers. “I’m okay. Really.”

“Oh, come on.” She jumped off her stool, and leaned her flat stomach against my bare knee. “Try mine.”

I didn’t know where to look. Her face, that glass—­neither was safe.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re so serious. Loosen up a little. Have some fun.”

She took another drink, and her tongue trailed her bottom lip again. The ache rose up in my chest—­for her, for all of it. “Just try it. For me?”

She slid between my knees, and I settled my hands on her waist. To push her away. To pull her close. I didn’t know.

I stared at her lips, imagining the sweetness of her mouth paired with the strong edge of alcohol.

I could stay in control for her.

One drink wouldn’t kill me. And knowing I needed to watch out for her would help me keep it in check.

One drink.

One sip.

Just once.

I said, “If you’ll answer a question for me.”

She tilted her head to the side, and I reached out to trail a thumb along the slant of her neck.

“Deal.” She smiled.

She took one more drink, and then slid the glass into my hand.

It seemed tiny. It was maybe half full. Nothing that would do me any harm. I looked back at her smile. Quickly, I pulled the glass up and took a short sip before holding it out to her. She gave me a look. I could have brushed it off. But really, the drink hadn’t been that strong. Like lemonade, but a bit more sour.

I brought the glass up and took a longer drink this time. When I gave it back, there was nothing but ice left.

She smiled, her lips close to mine.

“My turn,” I said. “The other night . . . what did you mean when you said you were tired of being?”

She froze. Maybe I was pushing too far, but I needed a change of subject. I needed to know something of worth because the guilt was already crawling across my skin. And a voice at the back of my mind was asking again and again, What have you done?

She said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She looked away, but I used a finger on her jaw to bring her eyes back to mine. “It’s just . . . I look at you, and I see a beautiful woman in the prime of her life, traveling to exotic places, with the world at her fingertips. But I think that’s just what you want ­people to see. And maybe I love a mystery too, because I can’t seem to make myself stop thinking about what’s underneath all that, what you don’t let ­people see.”

I brought my other hand up, cradling her face. Concentrating on her instead of the monumental mistake I’d just made, instead of everything I’d just thrown away.

It didn’t work. She pushed my hands off and pulled out of my reach.

“I told you . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was wasted. You shouldn’t take one person’s drunk ramblings as truth.”

She turned away, picked up my abandoned drink, and gulped half of it down in one pull. I was relieved. If she drank that, one less thing to tempt me.

“I don’t believe you,” I said. “I think it was the most honest thing you’ve said to me. Maybe to yourself, too.”

She stayed facing away from me as she said, “Again with the knight-­in-­shining armor bullshit. I don’t need you to take care of me. You don’t know anything about me. So whatever you think you’re doing, whatever you’re trying to fix in me, you can fuck off.”

She took another big gulp, and I noticed her hands were shaking. All week, I’d been thinking about whether or not she was going to crash again, and now I might be the one pushing her to it.

“Hey, I’m sorry. Don’t be upset.”

I stood behind her, my hands hovering above her shoulders.

“I’m not upset.”

She threw back the rest of the drink, and then slammed it down on the bar. Immediately, she raised her hand to try to get the bartender’s attention.

I stopped hesitating and grabbed her hand. I pressed it down against the bar and leaned my lips down to her ear. Softly, I said, “Kelsey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed. But don’t drink because you’re mad at me.”

Don’t drink because I’m mad at me and took it out on you.

I’d already fucked-­up enough tonight for the both of us.

She turned her head toward me, but kept her eyes on the bartender.

“Apology accepted. And I’m drinking because I want to.”

“Just talk to me for a second.”

She ignored me, raising her other hand and calling out.

I spun her around by her elbow and trapped her between my arms and the bar. My guilt fizzled as the feel of her body against mine took precedence in my head.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“I just needed to talk to you for a second.”

“So you manhandle me like a caveman? Jesus!”

This was going so completely wrong. All because I touched that damn drink. I smiled, willing her to understand that I didn’t mean any harm.

“I just wanted to apologize.”

“You already did that.”

“I know. But I really am sorry.”

So goddamn sorry.

“I don’t think you are. There’s this pattern that keeps cropping up, where you judge me when you have no right to do so. And when you’re not judging me, you’re prying into my life.”

“I’m not judging you. I promise. And the rest? That’s just the soldier in me . . . I’m too straightforward. If I want to know something, I just ask. If I want to do something, I do it.”

Even when it is really, really stupid.

“Yeah, subtlety is definitely not your strong suit.”

I smiled, because she wasn’t struggling against me anymore. “No. It definitely isn’t.”

Neither, apparently, was control. She’d been fascinating from afar, but having met her, I decided consuming was the better word.

“Well, then. If you’ll let me go, I think I’m going to go find Jenny and the others. Since I’m not allowed to order another drink and—­”

I’d already indulged one desire tonight, about which I would feel immensely guilty in the morning. Why not make it two?

I lifted my hands up from the bar to grasp her jaw. Then I set out to discover exactly what her lips tasted like.

SHE HESITATED WHEN my lips touched hers, but not for long. I traced my tongue across her bottom lip in the same way her tongue had on more than one occasion, and she opened to me immediately. She tasted sweet, just like I thought she would. And despite what I thought, I couldn’t taste a drop of alcohol, only her.

Her fingernails dug into the back of my neck, and I was hard almost instantly. I groaned against her lips as they pressed harder, faster against my own. I reached for her waist, but her swimsuit was in the way of my fingertips finding skin. I slipped one hand around to her back, pressing it flat against her smooth skin. She arched her back, crushing her chest against mine, and I wanted to devour her.

I pulled her bottom lip between my teeth just for a second, and her hands pressed down on my shoulders. Then I set about tasting the rest of her. The corner of her lips, her jaw, the long column of her neck. I leaned her back into the bar, my hips snug against hers so that there was no way she didn’t know exactly how much I wanted her.

She pulled my face up to hers and said, “I think I like your lack of subtlety.”

My only reply was to kiss her again. To have more of her. My newest addiction. I didn’t know how long we kissed except that my lips were raw, and it was still not enough. I could have spent another day, maybe two, just exploring her mouth.

She was the one to pull back, breathing heavy.

“Wow.”

I leaned my forehead against hers and said, “I should have just done that from the start.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned harder into me, but didn’t say anything.