Secret Obsession

 

 The rain picked up, blowing across the yard and swaying trees.

   “Come out of the rain.” He pulled her two steps toward the toolshed before she dug in and resisted him.

   Her head tipped and her eyes said plainly in the half light that she didn’t trust the new location, didn’t trust either of them in it.

   He waited, keeping a gentle tug on her arm. She would come or she wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to let her claim later that he forced her. Besides, forcing Clem was like trying to force a sailboat forward into the wind. It was best with her to tack back and forth until he got her where he wanted her to go.

   The rain lightened as they stood there in a face-off, but the cold wind raised the peaks of her nipples hard and tight against the now see-through white gown, drawing his notice. Her dark areolas were visible to him as if she stood naked.

   He raked his gaze over her, resisting the urge to yank her into his arms. Her body was still rounded, but she’d added muscles. Muscles he’d enjoy exploring leisurely with his mouth. Her feet were planted in the soil, like she was in a tug of war, even though he barely pulled on her arm.

   Choose, Clem. Choose me. He wanted to shout the words, but he swallowed them instead. Her body needed his as badly as his needed hers. It was like a good knot in a rope. The more she struggled against it, the tighter the need became. He’d learned long ago to just give in and slake his thirst.

   “Damn. Damn,” she said and stumbled from her stance.

   He swung her into his arms and crossed to the shed, ducking beneath the roof before she changed her mind.

   In the shadows, his mouth found hers, slipping along her lips, his relief coming as a low growl.

   Her hands twined around his neck and he let her slide down his hard, full body to her feet. God, she felt good. She always did.

   He tried to slow the kiss. They had more time than the other night, so they should enjoy it. But it was hard, so hard to slow when they usually had fast relief.

   “What are we doing, Wade?” she broke away to ask, the pain and confusion in her voice making him draw her even closer.

   He gave her the only answer he knew to be the truth. “What we must to survive.” He nuzzled her neck, enjoying the hitch in her breathing with the simple motion.

   Running his tongue up to her ear, he lightly circled the delicate shell, drawing a shiver. He nipped her earlobe, the action rough after the soft lick and he was rewarded by another shudder.

   Her fingers buried in his shirt as if she tried to stop herself from being tossed overboard in a storm. Or as if she tried to halt her need to rip the fabric in two. She’d made this motion time and time again, for years now, and she’d made it last night. Perhaps she did want to tear his shirt. The idea had chill bumps rising on his arms.

   Whatever the reason, he didn’t want her passive, but a total participant. For a moment, her old request for silence stopped him from speaking, but she’d asked her own question earlier, which earned him at least a small request. “Rip it off,” he growled low into her ear.

   “What?” she asked, blinking up at him in the dim light. He couldn’t see the beautiful green of her eyes but he knew they held confusion.

   He’d thrown her off track by speaking. Good. He had never liked that rule anyway. “Rip off my shirt.” Sliding his hands along her arms, he brushed the sides of her breasts.

   She gasped and he saw secret desire in her eyes. She had wanted to do this before, but never had. Maybe all this time he’d known, maybe that’s how he knew to suggest it. Or maybe this new Clem didn’t carry as much anger and hatred for him so he was able to see more of her under the surface.

   When she trailed her hands up his chest only to stop at his collar, he knew he’d have to encourage her to take what she wanted. “No one will hear us over the storm. It’s just you and me and the rain, Clem. Just us here tonight.”

   She took hold of the collar points in each hand. He’d dressed special for her, in one of his best button-down shirts, and he couldn’t wait for her to destroy it.

   Instead of ripping, she used her leverage to pull him down for a kiss that ate at his mouth. She worked him around to the wall so he leaned against it while her lips crushed his, fire curling into his belly and replacing the disappointment of her not following through on what he knew they both wanted. 

   She wasn’t sure she had the strength to rip his shirt. Oh, she wanted to, but that level of violence had never been between them and if she took that step, would they ever be able to go back?

   What was she doing, anyway? She’d sworn him off, dammit. Just earlier today. Frustration leaped up to mingle with the vicious need that clawed her insides. She wanted him with a desire so great she couldn’t control it, didn’t want to. Her grandmother had nearly destroyed this island, and Clem would follow right in her ancestor’s footsteps if anyone found out she had a secret obsession for the Head of the Tawes family.

   Anger added to the already heady brew simmering in her belly. Damn them for hemming her in like this, caging her in all their past sins. If their clans had behaved admirably in the first place, she and Wade could have dated in high school and then they would be over this. Nothing this good could last. Not unless you put it into a pressure cooker that baked it into madness.

   Years of frustration and anger and desire boiled in her veins and she stepped back, ripping his shirt in one motion.