Page 21 of Stone’s Cage

This time I believe her, but "You're still a kid."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven."

Suddenly she smiles, and that quick parting of her lips, the flash of teeth, the lightness in those golden eyes leaves her even more beautiful. "So that makes you Yoda?"

"I get what you're trying to do," I say, trying to be careful, "but you gotta go back to school." I slip an arm under her back. She looks a little surprised and smiles again. My heart skips, decided on a rhythm, and beats hard. Faster.

"I don't think I can get back to school. I just left. Filed the paperwork last week."

"You can go back to school. I bet you can get anything done that you want. You need to go back to school, now. Write them a letter, tell them what happened. Tell them about your brother."

"I'm not going to play the pity card," she says and I'm afraid she's taking offense but then she shifts closer to me, sitting up now, gathering blankets.

"It's not playing the pity card. You're explaining what happened to you, to your family. You lost a brother in a violent act of murder, a gangland shooting which is still unsolved. You're lucky you're not strung out or on a psychiatrist bench or institutionalized. Asking for help is not the worst thing to do."

"So I'm asking for help. Do you have any idea who killed my brother?"

Shaking my head, I try to reassure her again. I wish I did. I wish I knew exactly who killed her brother. I'd . . . "I told you. I don't."

I shift my arm under her head, and she leans back, eyes closed. Her lashes are long and in their curls, little rainbows flash from the streetlight. Who knew someone could make that harsh street light out there look beautiful, but she could. Studying her face, I notice her lips turn up slightly at the corners of her mouth, and suddenly something in my heart cracks open, just a little, and it starts beating again in a softer, lumpy way.

I catch my breath.

Her eyes fly open. And then she stares at me with liquid gold eyes, while those lips part ever so slightly. Placing her hand lightly on my shoulder, her voice is soft.

"I know you're not going to take advantage of me. You've made that perfectly clear. But could you hold me?"

My only answer is swiftly wrapping my arms around her. Drawing her knees up into her chest, she sighs softly, leans her head against me, and I feel her breath against my neck.

"I know this is going to sound weird, but I've never slept with anyone."

She must sense my astonishment because the next thing I hear is her laugh again. Light, silvery, lilting. Beautiful.

"There's a lot of women out here who don't sleep around with the first guy that comes a waltzin' along. I have high standards, you know."

Well, then, you're not going to want me. I'm way below any standard.

"Listen," she says, "it's not that I don't know what to do. I'm just not too sure I'm going to be good at it. But could we just, you know, make out?"

"Make out"? I haven't heard that in . . . maybe ever.

I stroke her cheek and she closes her eyes again and I think she's embarrassed. She doesn’t need to be. Her lips part gently in anticipation and her eyes drop, her gaze in on my mouth. Something stirs in my groin. And then my mouth is on hers and I kiss her, nudging her face to tilt towards mine each time I press my lips to hers. When she shifts on the sofa and turns to me, placing a hand on my shoulder, she leans into me. With my tongue deep in her, I touch her collarbone. She shivers under my fingertips and I start to get hard.

Oh my god.

Chapter Eleven

Lily

The moment he kisses me, I almost forget where I am. I wrap my arms up around under his and feel the muscles on his back. When I slide my arms up around him, his sigh is shaky. I hear myself say, "Take your shirt off," with an authority that has waited a very long time to manifest.

Standing, he crosses his arm and takes off his shirt, tossing it on a folding chair. The light from the kitchen plays over his chest and stomach, and his breathing is fast, shallow. I can't believe he's so turned on by me. Little Miss goody-two-shoes. Little Miss Let's Put the Caps on the Markers for the Teacher. Little Miss straight A.

Little Miss, I need to Fuck.

Now.