I don’t really know what to do with myself, so I just stand there in the middle of all the happy, dancing couples. The notes of another song begin and I tell myself that I need to move. But I don’t. Still, I just stand there, wondering what has become of my life. I’d started the summer with a plan. Now, nothing is simple or certain. And, in a way, none of that other stuff even matters. The only thing that seems to register on my radar is Trick. Always. Trick.
As if my thoughts have the power to conjure, Trick appears in my line of sight. He stops a few feet away and just stares at me.
I’m not a fan of country music, but the lyrics to the song perfectly define the moment. “Glass” is what it’s called and, right now, I feel like glass—thin, unstable, transparent. Vulnerable.
Trick doesn’t say a word as he approaches. He walks to within a couple inches of me and looks down into my face. I’m caught in his eyes. They’re like spider web and I’m entangled. I can’t seem to fight my way free of him. Then again, I don’t want to. Not really. I just want him. Whatever he’ll give me. For however long he’ll give it. I know, at this point, I’m all in. Whatever it takes.
Without taking his eyes off mine, he reaches down and takes my hands in his. He raises first one to his lips then the other, kissing the backs of my fingers, sending chills up my arms. Lowering them, he tugs my hands, pulling me forward. Closer.
All the people, all the sounds, all the world fades. Our thighs are touching and his chest is brushing mine. I can smell his soap, even above the smoke in the room. He laces his fingers with mine and pulls our joined hands around to his lower back, bringing me closer still, our stomachs pressed together. He starts to sway to the music, his body rubbing gently against mine. The friction sets fire to every nerve beneath my skin.
My eyes are drawn to his mouth. I think I might die if he doesn’t kiss me. His lips part and I hear the hiss of air as it’s pulled between his gritted teeth.
He drops his head, his cheek pressed to mine, and he whispers in my ear. “If we go, we can’t come back. Not ever. Things will never be the same.”
I lean into him, needing to feel every inch of him, wishing he could absorb me and put me out of my misery.
“I’m not perfect, Cami. I’m not a thoroughbred like he is. I never will be.”
I’m under his spell, but I hear what he’s saying. And I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but having Trick, having him in my life, having as much as he can give me.
“I hear sometimes the wild ones are the best.”
He says nothing at first, but I can almost hear his smile as he no doubt recognizes his own words.
“That may be. It’s still a gamble, though. But it’s your gamble. Your choice.”
I pull away to look up into his face. “My choice? I thought—”
“So did I,” he interrupts. “But I was wrong. It’s always been your choice.”
“What are you saying?”
I’m so breathless, my chest hurts. I don’t want to misunderstand what he’s getting at.
“I’m saying I’ll be waiting for you.” His eyes are deep and serious as he watches me. Pulling my hands from behind him, he releases them and drags his fingers up my arms to my shoulders and winds them around my neck. His thumbs tip my chin up and for one heart-stopping second, I think he’s going to kiss me. “Make your choice, Cami.”
And then he turns and walks away.
I watch him until I can’t see him anymore, until the crowd has swallowed him up. There is no question what my answer is, what my choice is.
Immediately, I make my way back to Jenna. She’s laughing at something Rusty is saying. When she sees me, her smile fades and she scoots off her bar stool.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I need your keys.”
“What? Why?”
“I just need them, Jenna. I need to go.”
“Go where.”
“Home,” I answer. Jenna’s eyes search mine. When I smile, I know she knows I don’t mean home, as in my house. I mean home, as in Trick. Where I belong.
Her face splits into a stunning smile and she reaches into the back pocket of her jeans. She dangles the keys in front of me and after I take them from her fingers, she grabs me in a spontaneous hug. When she pulls back, her eyes are a little shinier than usual.
“Go get him, Cam.”
I give her a quick smile, wink at Rusty, who is just looking on with a satisfied grin, and I run for the door. For the first time I can remember, I’m going to chase after what I want. With everything that’s in me.
My muscles are coiled like a rattlesnake by the time I get home. I don’t park at the house; I park at the stable. Trick’s car is there. It barely registers that what I’d thought was just a Mustang that he drives is actually probably something like a Mustang Boss 429, a car that even my father would sit up and take notice of. And he probably has, as they’re rare and extremely valuable. Like hundreds of thousands of dollars valuable. But I don’t care about the car. I care about the driver.
There are no lights on in the stable. The big doors are open just a crack. I push on one side until I can step through. It takes my eyes a second to adjust, but then I see Trick leaning against the office door jamb, facing me, his arms crossed over his chest.
It’s so quiet I can hear my heart hammering against my ribs. When he speaks, his words pour over me like rain over flower petals. And I blossom under them just the same.
He straightens. “God, I hope you’re sure.”
I take a step toward him. “I’ve never been surer of anything. Ever.”
There is a slight pause, during which my heart stops beating, but then I’m in his arms, crushed against his hard chest, burning up in the heat of what’s between us.
His lips take mine in a kiss I feel like I’ve been waiting for all my life. They’re wild and passionate, everything I remembered, everything I’d imagined, and more.
His hands dive into my hair and he tilts my head to the side. His tongue slips into my mouth and I taste the most delicious flavor in the world—Trick. Unbridled. Unreserved. Unfettered.
All I can think of is how much I want him—want his skin against me, want his hands all over me, want his body inside me. I am ravenous and the only thing that can satisfy me is Trick.
Before I know it, my hands are fisted in his t-shirt, pulling it up and rubbing over the smooth skin of his back. He pauses long enough to yank it over his head and then his lips are back on mine.