Page 31 of Rescue

“I don’t want to take advantage—”

She grasps my shoulders, pushing me away from the door. Pushing me toward the bed. “Lennon, Iwantthis.”

There’s no way I can argue with that. I want it too, want it more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. And then she slips her shirt over her head, and my brain turns off entirely.

I don’t really do relationships. Sure, I’ve had my fair share of hookups over the years. It would be hard not to, being single in a rock band as popular as ours. But those have been few and far between in the last year, and there hasn’t been anyone that I really cared about for much longer than that. There was a girl in high school, one of those super angsty teen obsessions, that broke my heart pretty bad. My brothers and Daisy always thought that was what turned me off from trying again. I let them go with that assumption—it sounds a lot better than the truth. The truth is that I’m pretty sure I’m way too fucked up to ever really be happy with someone. To make someone else happy.

But looking down at Haylee, at the smooth column of her neck arched to meet my lips, the vivid color of her tattoos burning into my peripheral vision, I realize that I don’t feel so fucked up. I feel… alive. For the first time in ages, I feel alive and awake. Happy even. How could I not feel happy when this woman—this gorgeous, passionate woman, this woman who somehow seems to understand just what I need even though she barely knows me—is here with me, wanting me?

We’re on the bed in a matter of seconds, our clothing tangling in hurried hands, her lips never leaving mine. “You feel so good,” I mutter, and she sighs a little, a contented sigh that makes my stomach clench. I want to hear that noise again, want to be the cause of it, so I bring my lips to her collarbone, kissing every inch of her skin I can reach, my fingers rushing to bare more of her body to me.

Suddenly the impediment of clothes is gone as we’ve somehow managed to free each other of jeans and shirts. I look down at her, trying to catch my breath. She’s only in her bra and underwear now, both of them dark red, and I have to close my eyes before my brain explodes.

“Lennon?”

It’s her voice that kills me. While a moment ago she was laughing, excited, growling almost, now she sounds different. Vulnerable. Like something important rests on my reaction right now. I open my eyes and look into hers, and the haze of alcohol disappears completely. I’ve never felt more sober in my life, more awake and aware of every detail around me. Her perfect body, her skin pressed against mine, her hair fanned out on the pillow behind her head. Her lips are reddened from our kissing, her lashes impossibly dark against her pale skin. And her blue eyes are open, fixed on me, waiting.

“You’reperfect.”

A flush comes to her skin, and she looks away, a smile tugging on her lips. She’s shy, and it’s so cute I can’t stand it.

“Haylee.”

She looks back at me, and her eyes are different now. No longer vulnerable, no longer unsure. She looks up at me like I might be the best thing she’s ever seen too. “I want you,” she says.

I’m barely breathing as I remove the last of our clothes, as my lips run across her chest, as I reach into my pocket for a condom. The look on her face as I slip it on makes me crazy, and I can’t decide if I want to go back to kissing her or—

“Please.”

I don’t need to hear anything else. I slide into her, and she shudders around me, her head tilted back. I’m almost afraid to move, afraid to do anything that might shatter this perfect moment. For once in my life, my body takes over, silencing my always overworking brain. I’m moving inside her, kissing her face, her neck, everything I can reach, and she’s holding me so tight, whispering my name, and I basically decide I could die right here.

When she comes, her chest arches into me, and I decide against dying after all. Because I’m definitely going to need to do this again, as soon as possible. I follow her a moment after, and we lie there, wrapped up in each other, neither of us moving.

“Wow,” I finally mutter, peering down at her. She grins at me, the most self-satisfied grin I’ve ever seen, and I laugh, rolling to my side and pulling her with me.

“That was pretty fantastic,” she murmurs into my chest.

Fantastic doesn’t really cover it. I’ve never felt anything like that, not ever in my life. She snuggles in a little closer, and my throat feels tight with some unknown emotion.

I wonder, fleetingly, if I might freak out. Heavy emotional experiences are something I try to avoid at all costs. But before I can worry too much, the sound of Haylee’s even breathing carries me off to sleep.

***

I wake up to the sound of knocking on the door. Pounding would be more accurate. Whoever’s out there really wants to get in. I reach for Haylee and realize that she’s already off the bed. The room is dim now—what time is it?— but I can make out the shape of her as she moves to the door, picking a shirt up from the floor.

“What the hell, Haylee?” an angry voice asks when she opens the door.

“Shut up,” she hisses, her voice low. She must think I’m still sleeping.

“You want me to shut up? You disappear for hours with that guy—are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk.” Her voice does sound perfectly steady. “Do you need something?”

“Why are you whispering?” There’s a pause, and then the guy—it sounds like James—swears. “Are youkiddingme?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Like hell it isn’t.” He sounds really pissed, and I’m halfway sitting, thinking I should go to the door.