The Space Between (The Book of Phoenix) (39 page)

Her eyes squinted as she studied my face for a moment. Then her gaze dropped down to my arm again, and her finger moved to the tattoo below the flowers. An angel on her knees, doubled over, her hands covering her face.

“This is for your sister?”

I swiped at my eyes and nodded. “She was an angel. He’d broken her.”

Not wanting her to see my pain and weakness, I turned my back to her and drew in a few breaths. Her hands clamped on my shoulders and pulled me backwards to the counter she sat on, then slid down my arms. Her finger traced the next tattoo—a broken shackle around my wrist—and she must have known what it meant. She ignored the last one and moved to the other arm, but they were all self-explanatory, too—a sunrise with “No Guarantees” written underneath it, a cross with a quote from 23 Psalm written across it, and the flame that matched her own. She returned to the last one on the inner part of my other forearm. A puzzle piece showing a heart with a lock clasped over it.

I turned and smiled. “I have the piece that fits into it stashed away, in case I ever did meet the right someone.”

She lifted a brow. “What’s the other piece show?”

I went over to my bags and squatted down to dig for my journal. I pulled it out and flipped to the page where I’d sketched the other half of the tattoo—another puzzle piece shaped to fit into mine, showing the key.

I didn’t outright ask her if she’d get the tattoo. She did hold the key to my heart, and I didn’t want it to remain locked forever. I just didn’t know how to tell her.

So I moved closer to her again, to show her the best way I knew how—physically. As I leaned in for a kiss, though, she pushed me away.

“I need a shower,” she said.

“I kind of like you dirty,” I replied.

She smiled and shook her head. “I’m gross. Seriously. So are you.”

Well, if that wasn’t a blow to the ego. I could tell by the gleam in her eye, though, it was only an excuse. In fact, I was pretty sure she was trying hard not to cry. So I wrapped my arms around her and held her to my chest, relieved when her arms encircled my waist. That was progress. Short-lived, though, when she pushed away and headed to the back of the camper for her shower.

Chapter 33

  All of the talk about family, especially of Uncle Theo, made my heart ache. I truly did miss him, and I was scared to know what his long absence meant. The desire to go to Tampa still remained as a slight pull in the pit of my stomach, but I felt a stronger instinct to remain still for a bit longer. Something needed to be done before we moved on, and I had a feeling what that “something” was. Jeric and I needed to re-Bond.

But I was stalling. Putting off the inevitable. Knowing what I wanted to do, what Jeric wanted—not only our bodies, but what our souls needed—part of me still refused to give in yet. We’d only known each other for a week, at least in these bodies, in this life cycle. Our past lives, our existence as one soul, were only vague memories, although the connection felt very real and present. But before I could give him my gift, as Jaceycalled it, I felt the need to know I loved him for him
right now
, not because of something we had together before, as other people.

When the tears flowed for him while I showered, though, I felt it. His sorrow and grief and pain and anger at everything he’d been through had become mine, too. My heart pulled it in, sharing his burden, hurting on his behalf. He’d felt my heartache, pain, and disappointment, too, and he’d already told me he loved me.

In fact, he’d known long before learning our history together. Several days ago he’d said something about “the only other girl I loved.” His sister was one. He knew then I was the other.

I finished my shower and threw on a tank and skimpy shorts. I didn’t have lingerie, but it’s not like I knew how to go about this anyway. I couldn’t imagine throwing myself at him, although I knew he’d gladly catch me. When I came out of the bedroom and saw him sitting on the futon petting Ghost—everything I’d thrown around yesterday picked up and put away—I became a ball of nerves. He eyed me before getting up and, without a word, walked past to take a shower, too. By the time he came out, wearing only jeans, I’d nearly talked myself out of it. My body trembled with a mix of desire and fear.

His expression flickered, and he must have known everything going through my mind. He smiled.

“I can still be patient,” he signed.

I nodded, although I didn’t want him to be patient. I wanted to be with him. But adrenaline raced through my veins, making me edgy. Jumpy. I couldn’t imagine letting him touch me in this state.

I needed to dance. To shut my stupid brain down and let my body do its thing.

“We forgot to check on my truck this morning,” I said.

He nodded then pulled his shirt over his head. “I’ll go.”

As soon as he was gone, I could finally breathe again. I connected my iPod to the docking station and turned up the volume, not caring that unlike at the lake, there were people around here. I was done caring about what they thought. In fact, the louder I cranked the music, the better. My body did what it loved to do, twisting and turning, swinging and gyrating to the beat, and my mind did what I loved it to do—lose itself.

I swung around to once again find Jeric standing in the doorway. His eyes smoldered, and his tongue swiped across his lips. Like last time, I froze. He shook his head and held his cell phone against his chest, the screen facing me with a text message already typed out: “Don’t stop. Ever.”

Right. Remembering how he’d reacted last time, I began moving again. He sauntered toward me as his fingers moved over his phone’s screen. He held it out for me to read again:

“If I could hear one more time for only a minute, it would be right now, to hear the music that makes your body move in that way.”

Heat exploded within me. A small smile played on my lips as I moved my body to the music and pointed at the iPod’s screen: Closer by Nine Inch Nails.

“Do you remember it?” I asked.

He closed his eyes and fell to his knees at my feet.

“You’re fucking killing me,” he signed before clasping my waist with his hands, pressing his forehead against my midriff and feeling the music through me as I danced for him.

He must have known when the song changed by my movements, because he reached up and pressed the back button to replay Closer. The ten seconds his hand had left my body were ten seconds too long. A thrill ran through every nerve when it returned to my hip and pushed my tank top up just enough to rest on my bare skin. He pushed the other side up, too, exposing a strip between my belly button and the waistband of my shorts. A small moan escaped my throat when his lips touched me there, and I was glad he couldn’t hear, because I would have died of embarrassment. But then I felt his tongue, and if he hadn’t had such a tight grip on my waist, I would have melted into the floor.

He pulled back and looked up at me, and I realized I’d stopped dancing.
Keep going
, his eyes pled. I’d always thought this song to be one of the sexiest tunes ever, but sexy took on a new meaning when I danced with Jeric’s hands and lips and tongue on me. He slid his hands up, pushing my top with them, his mouth following slowly behind until his fingers reached my bra. He held my top there, exposing less than a bikini would, and he continued kissing every inch of my stomach and ribs, moving with me as I barely writhed against him, no longer able to dance. Barely able to keep myself vertical.

By the time the song finished its second run, I could no longer feel the cool air from the air conditioning unit on top of the camper, too hot and flushed and thinking,
too many clothes. I have too many clothes on
. I reached for the hem of my top, and pulled it over my head, but the fire burning within me only grew hotter as Jeric continued to kiss me. His hands slid up my bare back as he rose to his feet, his eyes locked on mine, drowning me once again.

He grabbed my waist once more and lifted me to the counter to put us at eye level, then he placed a hand on the counter at each side of my hips and leaned his head to mine. His lips pressed lightly against my forehead, and then to each temple, and then down my nose. Light kisses landed on my cheeks, on the corners of my mouth, up along my jawline. His breath in my ear as he gently sucked my lobe lit my whole body. My thighs clenched, and my legs locked around his waist. He moaned against my neck as his lips and tongue trailed soft but passionate kisses from one side to the other. I suddenly needed his mouth on mine.

I placed my hands on each side of his face and brought him up so he was only inches from my mouth. I looked into his eyes, now my turn to plead. His gaze fell on my lips.

“Kiss me,” I mouthed, and I licked my lips slowly.

His eyes heated even more as something inside him seemed to break. He grasped my face, and we held onto each other tightly as his mouth covered mine. I immediately parted my lips for him, inhaling his breath, trying to drink him in, to pull his soul into mine. His tongue darted in, brushed against mine, lightly at first and then more forcefully. My tongue met his every movement as we explored each other’s mouths for what might have been hours. Then his lips grasped my bottom one and he sucked, sending a spark to every nerve ending in my body until I thought I would explode. I returned the favor, and he moaned aloud.

I’d somehow ended up nearly on my elbows on the hard counter, which made me practically out of reach even as he pressed against me. I pulled myself up as best as I could, wrapped my arms around his neck and tightened my legs at his waist. He took the hint and lifted me, his hands on my butt and our mouths never separating as he carried me into the bedroom. We crashed together on the mattress, and his body pressed against me and, oh my God, there was way too much fabric between us. I reached to his back and tugged at his shirt, pulling it up to his shoulders, hating that his mouth had to leave mine so he could pull the shirt over his head, and grateful when it returned.

He held himself up on his forearms, which was too far away from me. I slid my hands under his arms and over his shoulders and pulled him down. His body welded to mine, and I felt every bit of him, including his erection through his jeans. He moved his hips, pressing it harder against me, and my head rolled back as I let out a gasp. Unable to reach my mouth now, his lips moved to my chin, my jawline, down to my neck as he once again explored every inch of it. Then he kissed along my collarbone, his nose brushing along the top of it, his breath hot as he panted against me.

When he reached my bra strap, he pushed it down to my bicep with a finger, his mouth never leaving my skin. He shifted his body to the side, only half on top of me now, but never allowing any space between us. His hand came to my stomach and slid to my side. His fingers pressed deeper as his mouth moved to the rise of my breast and kissed along the top of my bra. I arched against him, wanting him to continue, but he didn’t. He looked up at me, asking for permission. As if I hadn’t just tried to give it.

“I want you . . . to,” I said with my mouth, hoping he understood. “I want you to . . . do everything.”

He sat up on his knees, straddling me, and his gaze traveled from my eyes to my lips to my breasts and lower. A storm broke out in his eyes as if he were waging some inner battle.

“I want to do right by you,” he signed. “I just don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” I replied. “I trust you. This is right. It’s meant to be. We’re meant to be together, as one.”

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. As rough as he looked, he possessed a dangerous beauty, like that of a majestic lion or a sleek jaguar. I lifted my hands to his perfectly sculpted abs and reached up as far as I could to his chest, then slid them slowly back down and curled my fingers under the waistband of his jeans. His eyes finally opened, and if possible, they were full of even more desire than before.

“I’ll take it slow,” he promised me.

“You don’t have to.” Slow sounded good, but I didn’t think I had the patience.

“I want to.” His eyes caressed my body again, and they may as well have been his lips or tongue the way my body reacted. My heart, already pounding, flew into a gallop. “I want to know every bit of you on the outside before I feel you on the inside.”

Oh, God.
I imagined his sexy voice saying the words as he signed them, and was surprised my panties didn’t singe right off of me. I leaned up on my elbows and reached behind me to undo the bra clasp. When he saw the bra loosen, he slid his hands under the straps and pulled it off.

“
Oh, fuck, Leni
,” his lips mouthed before he fell against me and his mouth was all over me.

On my shoulder, my collarbone, my chest, my breast. He wrapped his lips around as much of my breast as he could and sucked my nipple inside, his tongue caressing it until chills swept over me. My pelvis jerked, and I felt his hardness, so I ground myself against him. He moaned over my breast, and finally let it go. But he kept me enraptured, wanting more.

He didn’t falter on his promise. Although we moved sometimes painfully slow as he got to know every bit of me and I of him, it wasn’t without passion. Our eyes and fingers and mouths explored, tasting and sucking, making each other writhe and ache for more. He kissed me all the way to my shorts and slowly slid them off, but left my panties on as he moved farther down, all the way to my toes on one foot, then back up the other leg. Another wave overcame me as he sucked on the inside of my thigh and my pelvis bucked again.

Before I let him in my panties, though, I returned the favor of being tortured. I clasped his face in my hands and sat up, bringing him up with me. Then I traced his face, his jaw, his neck, his shoulders with my lips. I pushed him to his back as I made my way over his chest, to the piercings that so infatuated me. I hesitated, studying one as I wondered what on earth they did for him, why he would do such a thing. Because it looked sexy as hell? Or was there more? I lowered my mouth and tasted one with my tongue. Jeric moaned quietly. I caressed it harder, and he moaned louder. I pulled the ring and his nipple along with it into my mouth, and he bucked against me, his hands clamping hard on my ass. Ah. That’s why.

I drove him into a wild frenzy, exactly as he’d done to me, spending lots of time with those piercings, but also moving down. First my eyes and then my mouth appreciated every hill and valley of his muscular landscape, down to his hips until they disappeared behind his jeans. When my fingers clasped his button and my lips pressed against the skin right above it, his erection jumped against my chest, straining against the denim. Before I could free him, though, he sat up and pulled me into his arms.

I sat in his lap, straddling him and grinding against him as our mouths met again. We spent the entire afternoon kissing and exploring, our bodies heating and aching even more. We moved and shifted, teased and taunted. He ended up behind me, pushing the curls away so he could kiss my neck and shoulders. One hand kneaded my breast, and the other palmed my stomach, his fingers barely under my panties, slowly moving side to side. He pulled me to the edge of the bed, and I sat on my knees as he stood behind me. His hands left my body, and I missed them already, but I could hear him taking his jeans off.

I turned and lay on my back, waiting for him. Watching as he rose to his full height—all of him. My belly and thighs quivered at the thought of that inside me.

“You’re still okay?” he asked me, and I nodded.