Frost - Marianna Baer

looked. Gentle but insistent as they moved. Oh, kissing! It had

been so long, I’d forgotten the intensity. Warmth poured through

every cell of my body. His hand held the back of my head. I

touched his shoulder, firm and alive under the soft T-shirt. I

slipped my fingers up inside the sleeve, touching his smooth,

smooth skin. He must have showered; he smelled like citrus and

grass and . . . boy.

Kissing harder, now. I recognized the flavor of natural

cinnamon toothpaste. And then his tongue. Darting. Tasting. The

bright green toothpaste I used probably caused cancer. What?

Don’t think about that now! I tried to stop thinking and let myself

enjoy the kissing, as I had been a minute ago. But then I felt

David’s hand inching its way closer to my breast. And then it was

on my breast, the side of my breast, pressing against it, moving

slowly. And I lost track of the kissing and wondered how hard he

would have to be touching me to leave bruises like the ones on

Celeste.

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Stop it! Think about the kissing. Or the touching. Not about

his sister. But then I didn’t want to think about the touching

either, because he’d moved the hand underneath my tank top

and was playing with my breast, swirling his fingers around it,

cupping it, kneading, needing . I was glad we were on our sides so

that his second arm was trapped underneath him. It was so

intense, his hand, like it couldn’t get enough of what it was doing.

Images of Celeste with someone’s hands kneading into her darted

into my brain. Hands pressing too, too hard. Hurting. David was

going to hurt me.

“Relax,” he said. “Is this too much?”

I realized that I was shaking, quite noticeably. Like a stray

kitten out in the cold.

“Um, yeah. Maybe. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He reached down and pulled the covers up

over me. “Turn on your side.”

“I am on my side.” Even my voice was shaking. I didn’t know

what was wrong with me. I’d never had a reaction like this before,

had always loved fooling around. If anything, I’d had to force

myself to stop before I’d gone further than I wanted, because it

felt so good.

“Other way,” he said.

I turned the other way and felt him spoon his body behind

mine. His arm held me close. I tried to just breathe easily and

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calm down. I tried to ignore his hard-on, firm against me. I was so

embarrassed. He’d never want to do this with me again. Who

would?

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“Shhh . . .” he said as he ran his hand up and down my arm.

“We can just lie here.”

“Really? You’re . . . you’re okay with that?”

I felt him kiss the back of my head and snuggle even closer,

his arm wrapped around, protectively. Was there something

wrong with me, I wondered, that I liked this so much better than

the actual fooling around? He’ll hurt you.

“You don’t know,” I whispered.

“Huh?” David sleepy-grunted into the back of my neck.

“Nothing,” I said. “Just . . . good night.”

His arm squeezed me more tightly. I pressed against him and

wished that, like Dorothy, I had a pair of ruby slippers to click,

click, click. . . .

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Chapter 24

IN THE MORNING, I didn’t have time to be anxious. My body

and David’s body had found each other before I’d even really

woken up. When I swam to total consciousness, we were kissing

with a heat that my nerves had made impossible the night before.

I was on top, straddling his hips, pressing against him, only the

thin layers of our clothes between us, now kissing his neck and

inhaling his gorgeous morning skin, which smelled like sun even

though the blinds were drawn. The way I felt—it was as if while

I’d been asleep, someone else had entered my body.

The minute I had that thought, though—the minute I was

aware enough to analyze—a switch was flipped. Just like that, my

muscles tightened. My nerves rebelled. And the shaking started

again. Jesus. What was wrong with me?

“You okay?” he said when we broke away for a moment.

“You seemed okay with it. I didn’t mean . . .”

What was I supposed to say? That I’d been okay until I

actually woke up? “I . . . I’m fine,” I said. “I just have to get up for

a minute.” When I said it, I realized it was true—I needed to pee.

Bad.

I sat on the toilet seat and wrapped my arms around myself.

I was conscious of the sound of pee hitting water and hoped

David couldn’t hear it. After flushing, I looked at myself in the

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mirror. I stared into my pupils and tried to hypnotize myself into a

state of calm. You chose this. You want this.

“You’re incredibly sexy,” David said as I walked back across

the room. He’d opened the blinds; the morning was gray and

blustery.

“No I’m not,” I said reflexively. I sat on the edge of the

mattress.

“Hey. Tattoo.” His fingers lifted up the hem of my tank top.

“Nice.”

“Thanks.” I smiled down at the top of his head as he inched

forward and then placed his lips against my tatt. I shivered. He

pulled back, rested his head on my thigh, stared up at me.

“The way you looked last night, in that dress?” he said.

The way I looked in that dress. His mother’s dress. The dress

his sister loaned me. His sister, who was in a bedroom in this very

house. His sister, who was jealous of the way I looked in their

mother’s dress. Stop it, Leena!

“What time do you think it is?” I asked. “We should probably

get up.”

David propped himself up on one arm and grabbed his phone

off the night table. “Ten fifteen,” he said. “I guess we should.”

“Can you hand me my glasses?” He did. I slipped them on

and stood up. “See you downstairs?”

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Back on the fourth floor, Celeste’s bed was already made and

there was no sign of her. Thankfully. I took a steaminghot shower.

My body still felt jarred from the physical intensity of being with

David. With a clearer mind, I considered the strangeness of having

woken up in the midst of it. It real y was like my body had made a

decision, bypassing my conscious brain. I rubbed lather over my

skin and tried to imagine my hands were David’s. Tried to imagine

enjoying it. I had to get over my nervousness. That shaking thing

couldn’t happen again.

Before getting dressed, I put on my glasses and stared at my

naked body in the full-length mirror. It wasn’t a dislike of my

figure that made me nervous about being with David. Sure, I had

my issues, but whatever. So what was it?

I turned around and looked at my butt, my back—my eyes

stopped scanning and focused. My tattoo. I turned my gaze from

the mirror to my actual body. Normally, I didn’t see myself naked

with my glasses on—in the tub or shower I was half blind. So I

couldn’t remember the last time I’d given the tatt a clear-eyed

appraisal. It had changed. The colors didn’t glow with that depth

of pigment that had made it really look like stained glass. Now

they were washed out. And the black lines had thickened and

bled. As if David’s kiss had reacted with the ink.

Damn. It wasn’t the most expensive tattoo, but it wasn’t

cheap either. And I’d taken such good care of it. I kept staring, as