an
amateur I am,” he continued, his voice soft and sincere. “But with
you... Well, you know me. I can’t pull a fast one on you. I’m not
going to go crazy with you. You know that.”
“I know that,” she agreed. “That’s not why I
was scared.”
He gave her hand a slight tug, forcing her to
look at him. How much did she have to say? How much did he need to
know?
Only the truth. “I told you—” she cleared her
throat “—it felt too good. I was afraid if I didn’t stop right
then...”
“What?” he coaxed her.
“I don’t know. Something might have
happened.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
It’s me I don’t
trust , she almost blurted out. Her cheeks
felt warm, her extremities chilly. Closing her eyes, she recalled
the sensation of his tongue filling her mouth, retreating and then
filling it again in that slow, relentless rhythm...and she
experienced the same frightening rush of heat, gathering in two
points at her breasts before surging down through her body to her
hips, to her womb. She felt heat and dampness and an aching hunger
for something. Something more. Something she’d never wanted before.
Something she knew instinctively she shouldn’t
want.
Mortified by the raw emotions rampaging through
her, she broke from Kip and fumbled with the trapdoor latch. Before
he could stop her, she raced down the ladder to the attic, down
again to the small bedroom on the second floor and through the
hallway to the bathroom. She locked herself inside.
Gripping the edges of the porcelain pedestal
sink, she forced herself to look into the oval mirror above it. She
looked feverish, her hair tousled, her eyes watering with
tears.
This was too humiliating. Did Kip understand
what had happened to her? Did he know about the throbbing, the
warmth and dampness, the quivering in her flesh and the
inexplicable longing she’d felt when he’d held her against his
chest? Did he comprehend what his kiss had done to her? Would he
use his knowledge against her?
Would their
friendship ever be the same again? Would she ever be the
same?
She doused her face with cold water, dried it
off on one of the towels hanging on a towel ring next to the sink,
doused her face again and dried it. Digging a comb from the back
pocket of her cut-offs, she did her best to straighten out her
hair. Then she took a few deep breaths, prayed that Kip wouldn’t be
waiting for her on the other side of the door, and opened
it.
Of course he was waiting—not exactly on the
other side of the door but halfway down the hall. He leaned against
the railing of the first-floor stairway, looking relatively calm,
although his dark eyes glowed with concern. “Hi,” he
said.
She lowered her gaze to the rug beneath her
feet. “Hi.”
“Are we still friends?”
She took another breath and realized that her
lungs felt better. Whatever Kip did or didn’t understand about what
had happened to her up in the cupola, he clearly understood her
biggest fear—that because of what had happened they couldn’t be
pals anymore.
But if being pals meant as much to Kip as it
did to her, they would survive this. They would be fine.
“Yes,” she said, lifting her eyes to him and
smiling shyly. “We’re still friends.”
Relief crashed over his face like a breaking
wave. He pushed away from the railing, strode down the hall to her
and slung a brotherly, wonderfully unthreatening arm around her
shoulders. “Let’s get some lemonade,” he said. “How about
it?”
“Sounds good,” she said.
He bowed and kissed the crown of her head. It
was a friendly kiss, Shelley acknowledged, a kiss that comforted
her as much as his earlier kiss had flustered her. It was the kind
of kiss that reminded her of what friendship and Kip and the
summer’s magic were really all about.
With a quiet smile, she slipped her hand into
his and walked with him down the stairs.
Chapter Four
THAT NIGHT, SHE DIDN”T DREAM about pop stars,
or even Danny Clayburn.
amateur I am,” he continued, his voice soft and sincere. “But with
you... Well, you know me. I can’t pull a fast one on you. I’m not
going to go crazy with you. You know that.”
“I know that,” she agreed. “That’s not why I
was scared.”
He gave her hand a slight tug, forcing her to
look at him. How much did she have to say? How much did he need to
know?
Only the truth. “I told you—” she cleared her
throat “—it felt too good. I was afraid if I didn’t stop right
then...”
“What?” he coaxed her.
“I don’t know. Something might have
happened.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
It’s me I don’t
trust , she almost blurted out. Her cheeks
felt warm, her extremities chilly. Closing her eyes, she recalled
the sensation of his tongue filling her mouth, retreating and then
filling it again in that slow, relentless rhythm...and she
experienced the same frightening rush of heat, gathering in two
points at her breasts before surging down through her body to her
hips, to her womb. She felt heat and dampness and an aching hunger
for something. Something more. Something she’d never wanted before.
Something she knew instinctively she shouldn’t
want.
Mortified by the raw emotions rampaging through
her, she broke from Kip and fumbled with the trapdoor latch. Before
he could stop her, she raced down the ladder to the attic, down
again to the small bedroom on the second floor and through the
hallway to the bathroom. She locked herself inside.
Gripping the edges of the porcelain pedestal
sink, she forced herself to look into the oval mirror above it. She
looked feverish, her hair tousled, her eyes watering with
tears.
This was too humiliating. Did Kip understand
what had happened to her? Did he know about the throbbing, the
warmth and dampness, the quivering in her flesh and the
inexplicable longing she’d felt when he’d held her against his
chest? Did he comprehend what his kiss had done to her? Would he
use his knowledge against her?
Would their
friendship ever be the same again? Would she ever be the
same?
She doused her face with cold water, dried it
off on one of the towels hanging on a towel ring next to the sink,
doused her face again and dried it. Digging a comb from the back
pocket of her cut-offs, she did her best to straighten out her
hair. Then she took a few deep breaths, prayed that Kip wouldn’t be
waiting for her on the other side of the door, and opened
it.
Of course he was waiting—not exactly on the
other side of the door but halfway down the hall. He leaned against
the railing of the first-floor stairway, looking relatively calm,
although his dark eyes glowed with concern. “Hi,” he
said.
She lowered her gaze to the rug beneath her
feet. “Hi.”
“Are we still friends?”
She took another breath and realized that her
lungs felt better. Whatever Kip did or didn’t understand about what
had happened to her up in the cupola, he clearly understood her
biggest fear—that because of what had happened they couldn’t be
pals anymore.
But if being pals meant as much to Kip as it
did to her, they would survive this. They would be fine.
“Yes,” she said, lifting her eyes to him and
smiling shyly. “We’re still friends.”
Relief crashed over his face like a breaking
wave. He pushed away from the railing, strode down the hall to her
and slung a brotherly, wonderfully unthreatening arm around her
shoulders. “Let’s get some lemonade,” he said. “How about
it?”
“Sounds good,” she said.
He bowed and kissed the crown of her head. It
was a friendly kiss, Shelley acknowledged, a kiss that comforted
her as much as his earlier kiss had flustered her. It was the kind
of kiss that reminded her of what friendship and Kip and the
summer’s magic were really all about.
With a quiet smile, she slipped her hand into
his and walked with him down the stairs.
Chapter Four
THAT NIGHT, SHE DIDN”T DREAM about pop stars,
or even Danny Clayburn.
Similar Books
