“Just thinking.”
He crosses the space between us, eases my body forward, and sinks down on the lounger behind me. He surrounds me with his legs and arms, and I lean back into him.
“Are you still upset?”
I shake my head.
“Then what’s going on?” he asks.
A faint hint of worry is in his voice this time.
I can feel him watching me, waiting.
I don’t want to wall him out, not now when we’ve grown so incredibly close, but I’m not sure I can organize my thoughts and feelings into something he’d understand. Something that would be safe to share with him.
“You’ve been quiet since we got back to the house,” he prods patiently.
“I’ve just been thinking about a lot of stuff.”
His hands start to lightly caress up and down my arms. “What kind of stuff? Talk to me, Kaley. You should be able to tell me anything. We’re both in this, deep.”
I look over my shoulder, arching a brow at him. “Deep, huh?”
He rolls his eyes. “Serious moment. Nasty comment, huh? Don’t try to change the subject. Tell me what’s going on. I love all of you. Not just”—he tickles briefly atop my panties—“here.”
“But it’s your favorite part,” I taunt.
“No. Your heart is. All other parts of you are useless without your heart.”
I nestle into his chest. “You’re a pretty amazing guy, Bobby. I don’t know how I got lucky enough to have you.”
He gently makes us sway in a comforting motion. “Am I amazing enough that you’ll trust me enough to tell me what’s going on with you?”
I can hear him breathing, steady and patiently as he waits for me. I sigh. He’s right. After this week, I should be able to share anything with him. I don’t know why I’m being emotionally wimpy in this.
“Can I ask you something first?” I whisper.
His chest shimmies in a silent laugh. “You can ask me anything. Haven’t you figured that out yet? I’m an open book when it comes to you.”
“It’s just—” I fumble for a moment.
He leans in so he can see my face. “Yes?”
“You’re eighteen. You talk a lot about taking off. But you don’t talk about why. And you never talk about your birth parents.”
“No, I don’t. They’re not relevant to my life.”
I turn in the chair to face him.
“How can you say that? Don’t you have questions? Haven’t you even thought about unsealing your adoption record? Finding your birth parents? Don’t you want to know who they are and why they gave you up?”
The expression in his eyes changes and I can tell this was not the conversation he was expecting to have with me tonight.
He studies me for a moment, trying to assess where I’m going with this, then exhales loudly and runs a hand through his hair.
“I thought about it once. For about a half second, and then I realized whatever questions I have, the answers wouldn’t be about me. What happened in the past is about them. And I don’t need to know it. I don’t even want to.”
My eyes widen. “Not at all?”
He meets my eyes squarely. “Nope, not at all.” He frowns. “Why are we talking about this?”
I settle back against his body and stare at the ocean. “I hate having questions. Not knowing the truth. Wondering what it is about me that—”
I pause.
“That what, Kaley?”
I groan. “I don’t know if I can explain this.”
“Just try. I can’t know what’s going on with you unless you tell me. And there isn’t anything about you that I don’t want to know.”
The way he says that is as soothing as his touch. I’m wrapped in his arms, surrounded by love. A small part of me feels calmer, stronger, and resilient enough to share this. To tell him the hurts locked in the vault of my heart that I’ve never told anyone.
“When I was little I used to come here with Neil. A lot. I didn’t remember the vacations were here before we went to the Boardwalk and everything was familiar. But Neil used to bring me here with my aunts and my cousins from his side of the family. We’d have long Stanton family weekends. They were so fun. The grown-ups would barbecue and they’d hang out on the patio all through the night, laughing and talking so fast I couldn’t keep up. And everyone spoiled me, especially Grandma Michelle, because I was the only grandchild.”
He lays his chin on my shoulder, cuddling me closer. “Those sound like happy memories. Why are you sad telling me about it?”
I take in a deep breath to steady my spinning emotions.
“Because when Neil died they all just disappeared. I never saw any of them again. Not even Grandma Michelle. It used to hurt so much wondering what was wrong with me that everyone I loved just disappeared. And then when I got old enough to figure out why, I knew it was because Neil wasn’t my dad. That I was nothing to them. But it still hurt and I can’t ever completely stop wondering what’s wrong with me that they could all just disappear.”
“Oh, Kaley, nothing is wrong with you,” he exclaims tenderly, turning me in his arms and painting tender kisses across my face. “Whatever happened, that’s about them. Not you. How could you think it could ever be about you? You were a little girl. It’s not about you.”
The heavy emotion between us is nearly too much. “You disappeared.”
His brows shoot up. “What are you talking about?”
“When we were little. You were like practically my only friend and you went away, too.”
Bobby pouts in sympathy and makes a cocoon of his body around me. “I was eight. It doesn’t count.”
“It did to me. First the Stantons. Then Alan left Mom and me. Then you. Everyone I loved just disappeared in a single year. And I used to cry and wonder what’s wrong with me.”
A ragged breath escapes Bobby’s chest. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not about you. It’s about them. I wish I could make you believe that.”
I rub my hand against my dripping nose. “It makes me so afraid sometimes. How much I love you. I don’t know if I could take losing someone I love again.”
“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, lying back and taking me with him until I’m nestled on his chest. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not ever going to disappear. I’ll always be here, Kaley. Haven’t you figure out yet that I love you?”
CHAPTER 15
Six weeks later
I glide slowly up Bobby’s erection, rocking my hips before I plant my hands on his chest and freeze. Every glorious muscle of his body quakes.
I stare down at him, his face taut as he struggles to hold back, and I battle not to move. I love to tease and taunt and battle him with my body. His hips flex upward into me as his fingers close on my hips.
“Don’t move,” I warn. “If you move I’ll stop.”
His eyes float open. “You won’t stop.”
“How can you be sure?” I ask, my voice breathy and betraying.
“Because you love me.” He moves again and I groan. “And you are definitely not done torturing me.”
I lean forward until my breasts are dangling close to his face and he takes one nipple in his mouth, twirling it with his tongue, and caresses the other. My lower muscles tighten around him, he twitches inside me, and we both shudder.
His body moves up into me as he drags my face down for his kiss. His arms tighten around my hips, clutching me to him as he devours me with his mouth.
Bobby breaks the kiss, lying back on his pillow. “Are you done yet?”
I nip my way up his neck, then pause on his chin. “Not even close, bud.”
A growling groan escapes his lips before his mouth comes crashing back and I’m turned beneath him on the bed. My laughter vibrates down his throat and mine, then rapidly fades with the sudden thrusting of his body. I close my eyes, feeling the buildup inside him, and I cry out, my nails digging into his back. My shudders move down my limbs, rippling waves that roll into him as he lets loose inside me.