Until Friday Night
Page 52

We didn’t stay as long as the others. After an hour or so West was ready to leave. I knew we weren’t going home yet, and I was happy to go with him wherever. I argued with him over what was considered good music as we drove up to the bluff. He liked country music of all kinds, but I preferred classic rock.
When he finally parked in our spot, he reached over and turned off the radio before cupping my face in his hands and kissing me like I was something precious. This was my favorite kind of kiss. I loved them all, but when he did this, it made me feel like nothing could touch me. Like nothing could ever hurt me again.
I lost myself in his touch, and it wasn’t until he broke our kiss that I opened my eyes and remembered I wasn’t floating on a cloud.
“Do you want me with you when you tell your aunt and uncle you’re going to talk again?” It was a question, but I heard the hope in his voice. He wanted to be there with me. This was important to him. And that made me love him even more.
“Yes,” I replied.
He let out a breath he’d been holding. “Good. I’d be worried about you if I weren’t there. I want to be there for you, Maggie. I don’t . . .” He stopped and glanced off toward the town’s lights below us. “I don’t want you to feel like you always have to be my strength. I want to be that for you, too.” He shifted his gaze back to me. “I want to mean to you what you mean to me.”
That wasn’t an “I love you,” but it was close enough. That last sentence said more than he knew. I could tell he was worried that he wouldn’t be as important to me once I started talking to other people. He didn’t want to lose the connection we had.
I reached up and cupped his face this time. “Before you, I never smiled. I never laughed. I’d forgotten how. I was alone, and I didn’t know any other way. But you saved me. You make me feel appreciated, needed, wanted. You brought me out, and you gave me reasons to laugh again. Just seeing you makes me smile. No one could ever mean to me what you mean to me.”
West grinned like a little boy who had been given his ultimate wish, and then he held me against him so tightly, I could hardly breathe. I didn’t complain, but when he eased up, I took a deep breath.
He stared down at me for a few moments before his hand slid between my thighs. “How are you . . . there?” he asked, holding his hand close enough to make tingles start between my legs but not so close as to actually brush against me.
“Not sore anymore,” I replied, feeling my face get hot. He inhaled sharply, and his nostrils flared. The heat in his eyes was enough to turn on all my switches. “I don’t want you to think that this . . . that this is . . . what we are about. I’ve had that kind of relationship, and it’s empty. And it’s not us. What we have is more. I want you to always know you’re more. So, if you want to stop and not do that again . . . I’ll understand. I’m okay even if I just get to hold you.”
He was worried I’d think he just wanted sex. He was wrapping himself so tightly around my heart, I feared it was too much. Too fast. But I wouldn’t stop it.
“I want us to be more,” I replied. “But I like that, too.”
West let out a soft chuckle. “You’re gonna own me.”
I reached down and took his hand and slid it up to where I wanted it to be. “I want more of this with you.”
West’s strong fingers moved my shorts out of the way and were inside without any more argument. I arched my back and cried out from the sudden pleasure. He held on to me as he kissed down my neck, telling me how perfect, beautiful, and special I was. He never said I love you, but neither did I.
Hours later I was tucked into bed, when West climbed in through my window. I opened my eyes and watched as he slipped off his boots and jeans then climbed in with me. Once he had me curled up on his chest, he kissed the top of my head. “One day I’m going to make love to you on a bed,” he whispered.
I drifted off to sleep, thinking about West and I doing something much more interesting than just sleeping in my bed.
When I woke the next morning, West was gone, and the sun was pouring in through my windows. I buried my head in the pillow he’d been sleeping on and inhaled deeply. I loved smelling him.
I got up and went to get dressed so I could go down and eat breakfast. Also, I wanted to let Aunt Corlaee know that I’d like to talk to her, Uncle Boone, and Brady sometime today. Whenever she said was a good time, I’d let West know.
Today was a big day for me. Today I would stop hiding. I’d make real relationships with my family. I was excited about that. But I was also scared. Afraid of what they’d ask me. Terrified they’d want me to speak of that day. I didn’t want to describe that day again. Ever.
Having West beside me while I told them would help, and it would explain a lot about my relationship with him that I knew they didn’t understand. But I needed them to be clear that I wouldn’t talk about that day to them or anyone else. I never wanted to mention my father again. If they wanted to talk about my mother and fond memories of her, I could do that. I wanted that now.
I was ready for that now.
Brady was sitting at the table, his hair sticking up in random places, wearing only a pair of plaid pajama pants while he ate a bowl of cereal and drank a cup of coffee. The newspaper was open to the sports section, and he was reading it intently.
Aunt Coralee was standing at the bar in the kitchen, writing down a list. It was for groceries. I knew that list. She did it every Saturday. She looked up at me when I entered, and beamed a bright, cheery smile.