Kids were hooking up, couples springing
up everywhere, you know? And getting serious. By the end of the school year, a
lot of car windows were fogging up, if you get my drift.”
She nodded, but her mind was
suddenly in the back of his Tacoma. She envisioned herself and Levi frantic,
entwined, passionate, their tongues laving, their fingers craving. She pictured
the dark, the cramped space, imagined hot radio music, bare thighs against
leather seats.
He coughed slightly as though his
mind was also wandering down illicit paths and she forced her mind back to the
conversation.
“We’d all done sex ed, so we all
knew to use condoms.” Was he talking about sex to torture her? All she could
think about was how he would feel all hard and thick and swollen, thrusting
into her—and he was talking as though he was oblivious.
It wasn’t that she lacked interest
in his beginnings, but rather that she was completely distracted by the sensual
way his body moved as he stirred the pot, the sexy moue of his lips as he
tasted the sauce, the frank appreciation in his eyes every time he looked at
her, and the unmistakeable bulge of his cock in his snug jeans. He was making
her hungry, and not for pasta.
“Wrightville was a small town.
Old-fashioned, too. There was one drugstore. Walking into that store and buying
prophylactics was like announcing your engagement. So, instead, kids were
taking risks.”
“You saw an opportunity.” She gave
herself a mental point for not only following the conversation, but for making
an appropriate comment. She gave herself another point for stopping by the
Ocean Ridge drugstore that afternoon and making an anticipatory purchase of her
own.
“Sure, I saw an opportunity. I gathered my
courage, shrugged off my pride, and walked into the drugstore one day to plough
my meager savings into buying every box of condoms in stock. Then, I let it be
known I was the ‘go-to’ guy for rubbers. I did a discreet business in the
locker room and behind the gym. Teen pregnancy was down sixty percent that
year...”
“You’re trying to tell me you were
providing a community service?”
“Not at all, but it was definitely
a win-win scenario. In any case, the profit from my condom sales paid for my
first set of wheels.”
And with that remark, her mind was
back to the rear of his car and they were naked and desperate. Heat suffused
her like a sudden fever and all at once the air was more like puree and she
just couldn’t suck enough into her lungs. Her head swam and she actually
thought she might swoon.
“Levi?”
He looked up from the pot, flicked
off the heat, dropped the spoon, and rushed to her, grasping her around the
waist with one strong arm and tilting her chin up with the other.
“Cara? What’s wrong? Are you ill?
Being caught in the storm, maybe?”
Her legs were trembling and her
vision blurred. Her mouth turned so dry at his touch she had trouble getting
the words out. The warmth of his skin, the brush of his breath, the intensity
of his gaze sent her pulse from presto to allegro.
“I’m not sick,” she rasped. “I just
need—”
She kissed him then, desperately,
recklessly. Her kiss was an assault and a surrender all at once.
Unhesitatingly, she claimed his lips. Unapologetically, she pulled his body
hard against her own. Unflinchingly, she savored the unbridled response she
incited in him.
For the longest time there was
nothing but the kiss. There was no kitchen, no storm, no movie. There was only
Cara and Levi, and she would have struggled to identify where she ended and
where he began.
Two ravenous mouths devoured one
another, hands greedily grasped and grabbed, hair tangled, clothing snagged,
skin hungered for skin, eyes begged and promised and yielded. She was on fire,
utterly alight, a human firestorm burning for Levi as she had burned for no man
before.
Her fingers yanked his shirt from
his waistband as his hands slipped up under her t-shirt and moved unerringly
up everywhere, you know? And getting serious. By the end of the school year, a
lot of car windows were fogging up, if you get my drift.”
She nodded, but her mind was
suddenly in the back of his Tacoma. She envisioned herself and Levi frantic,
entwined, passionate, their tongues laving, their fingers craving. She pictured
the dark, the cramped space, imagined hot radio music, bare thighs against
leather seats.
He coughed slightly as though his
mind was also wandering down illicit paths and she forced her mind back to the
conversation.
“We’d all done sex ed, so we all
knew to use condoms.” Was he talking about sex to torture her? All she could
think about was how he would feel all hard and thick and swollen, thrusting
into her—and he was talking as though he was oblivious.
It wasn’t that she lacked interest
in his beginnings, but rather that she was completely distracted by the sensual
way his body moved as he stirred the pot, the sexy moue of his lips as he
tasted the sauce, the frank appreciation in his eyes every time he looked at
her, and the unmistakeable bulge of his cock in his snug jeans. He was making
her hungry, and not for pasta.
“Wrightville was a small town.
Old-fashioned, too. There was one drugstore. Walking into that store and buying
prophylactics was like announcing your engagement. So, instead, kids were
taking risks.”
“You saw an opportunity.” She gave
herself a mental point for not only following the conversation, but for making
an appropriate comment. She gave herself another point for stopping by the
Ocean Ridge drugstore that afternoon and making an anticipatory purchase of her
own.
“Sure, I saw an opportunity. I gathered my
courage, shrugged off my pride, and walked into the drugstore one day to plough
my meager savings into buying every box of condoms in stock. Then, I let it be
known I was the ‘go-to’ guy for rubbers. I did a discreet business in the
locker room and behind the gym. Teen pregnancy was down sixty percent that
year...”
“You’re trying to tell me you were
providing a community service?”
“Not at all, but it was definitely
a win-win scenario. In any case, the profit from my condom sales paid for my
first set of wheels.”
And with that remark, her mind was
back to the rear of his car and they were naked and desperate. Heat suffused
her like a sudden fever and all at once the air was more like puree and she
just couldn’t suck enough into her lungs. Her head swam and she actually
thought she might swoon.
“Levi?”
He looked up from the pot, flicked
off the heat, dropped the spoon, and rushed to her, grasping her around the
waist with one strong arm and tilting her chin up with the other.
“Cara? What’s wrong? Are you ill?
Being caught in the storm, maybe?”
Her legs were trembling and her
vision blurred. Her mouth turned so dry at his touch she had trouble getting
the words out. The warmth of his skin, the brush of his breath, the intensity
of his gaze sent her pulse from presto to allegro.
“I’m not sick,” she rasped. “I just
need—”
She kissed him then, desperately,
recklessly. Her kiss was an assault and a surrender all at once.
Unhesitatingly, she claimed his lips. Unapologetically, she pulled his body
hard against her own. Unflinchingly, she savored the unbridled response she
incited in him.
For the longest time there was
nothing but the kiss. There was no kitchen, no storm, no movie. There was only
Cara and Levi, and she would have struggled to identify where she ended and
where he began.
Two ravenous mouths devoured one
another, hands greedily grasped and grabbed, hair tangled, clothing snagged,
skin hungered for skin, eyes begged and promised and yielded. She was on fire,
utterly alight, a human firestorm burning for Levi as she had burned for no man
before.
Her fingers yanked his shirt from
his waistband as his hands slipped up under her t-shirt and moved unerringly
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