Not true.
“The faster one,” he continues. “In school, I did better in all the sports. I got the prettier girls. You were always second best, Wilder. Hell, your old man doesn’t even bother to come around and see you anymore. Well, he never really did, did he?”
“Fuck. YOU!” I break out into a full run despite the heat, how tired I am, how the sweat literally drips into my eyes. I wipe at them with the back of my hand and see Danny in the distance. Standing there, his hands on his hips, a big shit-eating grin on his face.
I want to wipe that grin off with my fist.
Clenching my hands so tight my fingers ache, I run up on him, ready to reach out and grab his shoulder, but the next thing I know, he’s on the ground. Lying flat on his back, his entire body still, his dark brown eyes wide and unseeing. Staring up at me with no acknowledgment of life, they’re completely empty.
“No.” The sob falls from my lips as I fall to my knees and gather him into my arms. His body is cold. So damn cold and stiff and I hold him closer, his face pressed against my chest, my face against the top of his head. “Don’t you die on me now, you motherfucker.”
No response.
Tears stream down my cheeks and I shake my head. “I won’t let you die.” I squeeze him so tight I know he can’t breathe and then I push him away from me, staring down into his face with dawning horror as he flops to the dusty ground with a thud.
His eyes are gone, replaced with empty, cold black sockets. He’s not Danny anymore. He’s a corpse. A skeleton. His body is brittle, his clothes, his f**king skin . . . gone.
Fuck.
A ragged sound escapes me and I leap to my feet, looking around in a panic. Now I’m lost. And if I don’t find my way back, I’ll soon be as dead as Danny.
“I gotta get out of here,” I mutter to myself as I try to retrace my steps. But it’s no use. As I continue on, I become more and more lost. Until I’ve circled back and there’s Danny again.
Lying in the middle of the rocky trail, a cold and lifeless skeleton. The goddamn skeleton sits up, his black eyes on me, his voice calm as he lifts his hand. Pointing at me, he says, “It’s all your fault I’m dead. I hope you’re proud.”
Another sob escapes me as I fall to my knees again. Hell no, I’m not proud. If I could switch places, I would. I so would. He didn’t deserve to die. Everyone loved Danny, while everyone other than Danny merely tolerated me.
I wish I were the one who died.
“Colin.” A soft, sweet voice reaches through the haze and I clamp my lips shut, trying to stave off my cries. “Colin, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”
This is no dream. I’m facing my ugly reality every single day. I let everyone in my life down.
Everyone.
“Please, Colin.” My body shakes. Her slender hands are on me, trying to offer comfort. They smooth over my shoulders before she gives me another shake, this one firmer. I had no idea she was so strong. Mentally, yes, the girl can endure anything. I admire her for that.
Love her for that, too.
Love?
Maybe I am dreaming . . .
Blinking open my eyes, I see her. Jen’s face above mine, her delicate brows scrunched together, those big brown eyes full of concern. A relieved smile curls her lips and she touches my cheek with delicate fingers. “You’re awake.” Her voice is so soft, I almost can’t hear her, and I wonder if she’s talking this way so she won’t startle or scare me.
Staring at her, I drink in her pretty, familiar features. The soft glow in her eyes, the way she touches me, makes me realize I need her in my life. I need her to open up to me again, share with me her hopes and dreams and problems. I want to help her. I want her to help me.
There’s more between us than friendship, more than our shared history. She means everything to me.
The realization renders me breathless.
I squeeze my eyes shut, then slowly open them again, trying to get her into focus. My muscles are tight, my entire body is tense, and she slips her fingers into my hair, her touch so gentle it sends tingles scattering over my skin.
My very exposed skin, since I’m na**d as the day I was born.
Chapter 5
Jen
He’s trembling in my arms, his electric-blue eyes stark and full of so much misery and pain as they stare into mine. I go with my instincts and draw him fully into my arms, clinging so tight I’m afraid I might never let him go.
His dreams are coming more frequently and I’m worried. They’re consuming him. Time is supposed to heal all wounds, not make them worse.
Though time hasn’t healed all my wounds, I suppose, so why should I expect it would for Colin?
Rolling onto my back, I bring Colin with me, his head nestled on my shoulder, his hair tickling my skin. He slings his arm around me, resting it across the top of my chest, his big hand cupping my shoulder. I don’t mind the heavy weight. He feels solid, alive, so incredibly right lying with me like this. He’s still shaky, though his breathing is evening out, and I tentatively sink my fingers back into his silky, soft hair, hoping to calm him down.
“Want to tell me about it?” I ask him this same question every single time.
And every single time he ignores it. Still, I have to try.
I rake my fingers through his hair again and again, closing my eyes when he nestles closer, our legs tangling. His skin is hot, the hair on his legs rasps against mine, and he’s so incredibly hard . . .
As in I can feel his erection since he’s na**d.
My eyes fly open and I stare up at the ceiling. I’ve come to his bed countless times, but he always at least has underwear on. Not tonight. I can feel every blessed na**d inch of him against me. Arousal courses through me, trickling through my veins, settling between my legs, and I press my lips together. The temptation to turn toward him is so overwhelming I have to remind myself I can’t do it.
Well. I could. But I’m not about to play with fire.
“I was chasing Danny,” he finally says, his voice so quiet I have to strain to hear him. I’m stunned he’s saying anything. This is a total first. “That’s how my dreams always start.”
I quietly wait him out. I’m scared to speak for fear he’ll shut up. Scared not to say anything, too, for fear he’ll shut up.
“The scenario can change, but I’m always, always chasing him. Looking for him. Most of the time I don’t find him, but when I do . . .” He shudders. “Those dreams are usually the worst.”
“Did—did you find him in this one?” I want to know, and then again, I don’t. I used to dream of Danny too. All the time after he first died, some of the dreams sad, most of them happy, though I always woke with an ache in my heart because I missed him so much. Those dreams were more like memories of our past, as opposed to horrible nightmares.
“I did.” His deep voice is somber, the sound slowly breaking my heart.
Colin is always breaking my heart. He can smile and laugh, joke and flirt at work, but it’s all a mask. At home, here in the middle of the night, this is the real man. The one who deals with pain and suffering and so much damn guilt it has to be paralyzing.
I wish I could absorb some of it for him, but I have my own pain to contend with. If I weren’t so worried he’d hate me forever, I’d tell him what I did. How I sold myself to men so easily. My secret shame would devastate him. He thinks he’s dealing with a tremendous load of guilt . . .
Mine nearly suffocates me.
He says nothing else and neither do I. We lie there together quietly for so long, his breathing starts to slowly even out, and I know him well enough to know that he’s fallen back asleep.
I wish I could sleep too, but I can’t. Not when I’m held captive in his strong arms, his big, hot body pressed to mine. My thoughts race with what he told me, the questions running through my mind. I’ve known Colin for years, yet in many ways he’s still a complete mystery to me.
As I stare at the ceiling, I’m achingly aware of how close he is, our bodies practically entwined. After our kiss last night I can think of nothing else but doing it again. Doing more. Taking our intimate moments farther.
Kissing him, doing anything else with Colin, would totally deter me from ever leaving him. Though I’m not stupid, my heart might be, and my body definitely would. It would betray me in an instant. I know I would become addicted to him. We’re not even doing anything and I literally crave him. Want to taste him, touch him, run my hands and mouth and tongue all over his skin.
I wouldn’t describe myself as a very sexual person. I’m no uptight virgin, but no guy has ever really rocked my world and left me gasping for more. As I grew up with an overprotective big brother and his equally overprotective best friend, boys tended to steer clear of me in my earlier teen years and I couldn’t blame them. As I grew older, though, those same boys came chasing after me once Danny and Colin graduated high school, and yeah, I dated a few. Had sex for the first time with my first serious boyfriend on prom night during our senior year.
A spectacularly bad experience for me at least, and Doug Evans and I broke up soon after. Then he took off to college midway through the summer after we graduated, and I never saw or heard from him again.
I had one other long-term boyfriend, but we split right after Danny died. He couldn’t take all the mourning and sadness, not that I could blame him. I would have broken up with me too. Other than that, I’ve had sex with a handful of guys, but nothing too serious—and what happened when I was at Gold Diggers doesn’t count.
But no man has ever rocked my socks off, for lack of a better term. The only guy who makes me want is the one who’s lying here with me, sleeping on my shoulder, clinging to me like I might be his lifeline.
He devastates me and he doesn’t even know it.
This is absolute, exquisite torture. I need to get out of his bed before I do something stupid. Slowly I try to disengage myself from his hold but he clings tighter, his fingers curling around my shoulder, his weight seeming to become heavier as he lies half on top of me. I thought he was asleep, but he’s not acting like he is.
“Don’t go.” He whispers the words against my neck. I can feel his lips move, their damp warmth upon my skin making me shiver. “Stay with me.”
His words, the tone of his voice, render me completely still and I lie there, immobilized. I want more, want to do so much more, but I’m afraid he’ll reject me the way he did last night. I played it off to Fable earlier—hell, I played it off to myself—but that hurt, how easily he walked away. How Colin never acknowledges anything that happens between us. It’s confusing.
Devastating.
“Colin . . .” My voice drifts off when he touches my jaw, his fingers feather light as they trace my chin, then slip down my throat. His entire hand spans the front of my neck, exerting the slightest bit of pressure, and a wave of arousal washes over me at his possessive touch.
He slides his hand down, settling on my chest, his wide palm pressing against the tops of my breasts, his fingers gently tracing my collarbone. My breath hitches in my throat, leaving me in shuddery little whispers I can’t control.
“You want this. I can feel your heart racing.” His lips are on my neck, his breath a hot gust on my skin. “You come to me every night always wanting to help me. Never asking for anything. Why, Jen?”
“You’re my friend.” A shaky exhale leaves me. “I don’t like to see you hurting.”
Colin remains quiet, nuzzling me with his nose, inhaling deep, as if he’s trying to inhale me. I’ve gone completely rigid, stunned by the way he’s acting. I like it, I can’t lie, but he’s also scaring me.
I don’t want to get my hopes up.
“Is that all there is? That I’m just your friend and you don’t want to see me hurting?” He sounds incredulous, as well he should. After what I said to him last night, how I told him I wanted him?
Yeah. He knows I’m full of crap.
“I . . . I don’t know.” God, no way can I admit how I feel again only for him to throw my words back in my face.
Again.
He moves so quickly I gasp, shocked to find him hovering above me, his face close to mine, his hand moving to cup the side of my neck. His eyes are practically glowing as they rove over me. “What the f**k are we doing?”
His bold question shocks me further. I have no idea how to answer, and I close my eyes when he presses his forehead to mine. I can’t look at him. Everything I’m feeling at this very moment is too . . . much.
Colin Wilder is the epitome of too much.
He shifts closer so that our lips practically touch. “I have no idea,” I whisper, my lips moving over his as I speak. His mouth is on mine and then he’s kissing me. Soft, heady kisses that make me dizzy, my lips parting with every brush of his, a whimper escaping me when he draws my lower lip in between his and sucks.
He feels so good, tastes even better, and he shifts against me, his erection brushing the very center of me. We’re perfectly aligned; he could shove aside my panties and be inside me within seconds.
I want it. I want him so bad my entire body is wound tight, feeling like at any given moment I could shatter into a million tiny pieces.
A ringing sounds in the distance and I open my eyes to find Colin staring into them, his gaze full of questions. No way do I want to stop this. We’ve only just begun. He can answer his phone later.
But then I realize the ringing is coming from my cell phone in my room. We can hear it through that thin wall we share. Disappointment crashes over me at the same exact time I see it shade Colin’s beautiful eyes.
Damn it! I have Colin sprawled on top of me na**d and my f**king phone is ringing. And it’s the special ring tone that I assigned to none other than my mother, who never, ever calls me. Especially in the middle of the night.