When the Wind Blows - James Patterson [51]
Chapter 50
I HAD A FIRST-AID KIT in hand as I knelt down beside Kit. I carefully opened the buttons of his shirt. When I got to the one closest to his waist, I had to pull the bunched-up shirt out of his pants. He winced from the friction of cloth against raw skin.
“Sorry,” I said. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, Frannie. I live for pain.”
I stared at firelight playing over taut chest muscles and a mat of bright curls. I reached for the tube of ointment, fumbled, and almost dropped it. The lid spun off into the dirt.
I put some of the medicated goo on my fingers and carefully touched his body. Odd. My fingers were trembling a little. I could hear my own breathing, which was too loud in my ears, but I was certainly focused on the task at hand.
So much so that I was surprised when Kit lightly grabbed my wrist.
“Did I hurt you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, but you’re killing me, Frannie.”
Kit put his free arm around my waist, and in one smooth movement lifted me and set me down on my back in the grass and pine needles, half covered me with his body. He was obviously strong, probably a hundred eighty pounds, but he was also gentle.
My arms were high and tight around his neck. He pulled me against him and I felt him, all of him, against my thigh. I didn’t have any fears or doubts about this, none at all. That surprised me, shocked me, actually, but there it was out in the open.
I wanted his mouth, and suddenly it was mine, as sweet and fresh as I had imagined. I was starving for this, the salty taste of him, the touch of his hands, the roughness of his day-old beard against my skin. I wanted Kit so very much, more than I could have imagined.
Kit lightly ran his hands over my breasts but there was too much fabric between us. I heard soft moaning sounds coming from my throat, which I barely recognized as my own. I tried to help him undress me. I was pulling at my workout top. I was struggling with his shorts, too. I hadn’t felt like this in so long.
He looked at me and his eyes were warm and sincere and, most of all, honest. I recognized the look, and suddenly I realized how much he liked me, and how much I cared about him already. A bolt of lightning had hit me, and I never, ever saw it coming. I never suspected, never would have guessed this could happen. It was kind of scary, but also unbelievably exciting and wonderful.
Two years of grief and repression had combusted in a rare moment. I felt his hand at my belt, cinching it tighter so that the buckle’s tongue would slip from its notch. I heard the zipper of my shorts give way under his fingers. I wanted this to happen. I was melting, and it was my choice.
Cool air rushed around my thighs as he slid my shorts down to my knees. I shivered, and I loved everything about the moment, our first time like this, the suddenness of it, the surprise.
I reached for his belt. The leather was stiff, unyielding. I was wrestling with the buckle when I heard him saying my name. I shivered at the sound of it and I wanted him inside me now.
“Frannie, Frannie. Wait. Stop.”
Wait? Stop?
I forced myself to look at Kit’s face. It was as if someone had suddenly turned on powerful bright lights. I blinked at him. Wait? Stop?
“We’re both out of our minds,” he said, panting. “I don’t know where I’ll be next week.” He sighed deeply. “I don’t even know where I’ll be tomorrow.”
I wanted to say, so what? Instead, I felt a wave of almost unbearable sadness. One small particle of brain matter was still rational. It told me that I wasn’t going to make love to Kit and get over it easily. I wasn’t going to forget this night in the mountains, or him.
I nodded. “Okay,” I said.
“Okay?”
“Okay. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. Let’s stop before we make a big mistake.”
“I’m sorry,” he said into my hair. He sighed again. “I really want to do this. I love being with you. It’s just that—”
I put my forefinger across his lips. “Don’t,” I said. We held each other for a good long time, long enough for our heartbeats to slow, anyway. I had stopped melting—but not really.
We kissed again,