“You wanna wash that off?” He offers.
There it is again, that lower register in his voice, as if he’s trying to lure me into the bushes. Not that Wes would ever need to lure me anywhere. I’m there at the ready. I’m pretty sure I’ll be taking advantage of him long before I rouse from this bitter realm.
“I think I got it.” I try to scour the sand off but it’s no use. I’m coated like a powdered donut.
“How about I throw you in?” His lips curve with devilish intent.
“I bet you’d love that.” I bow my lashes into him. “Throwing me into freezing water.” It has hypothermia written all over its glacial stare.
Wes jumps up and snatches at me, touches my bare stomach in one quick stroke.
“No you don’t!” I hop to my feet and take off as he chases me down the beach.
I can hear him thundering behind me, creating a heartbeat over the sand with every step he takes. Wes could make the earth quake with his looks alone. It’s a wonder the ground doesn’t open up and swallow him down from the sheer desire to have him for herself.
I hurdle a patch of knotgrass only to end up closer to the shore than anticipated. A soft bubbling laughter emits from deep inside my chest, happy to be here with Wes—happy to be anywhere with him. I haven’t felt joy like this in ages, not since before that horrible night they were found face down. I still remember the sky lit up like a flame from the ambulance, the fire truck—every faculty of authority too impotent to save.
He darts around, blocks my path and gives a slow spreading grin before picking me up and racing me into the shock of cold water.
“Wes!” I scream as a wave douses the two of us in one icy bite. It knocks him off his feet and lands us on the soggy soil below, the water no higher than my waist. “It’s freezing!” I shrill as my teeth give way to an uncontrollable chatter.
A bear trap clamping over my middle would have been more welcome.
“You’ll get used to it.” He staggers to his feet and pulls me out deeper until the water laps over our shoulders.
We swim up over the waves as they roll in, one after another. But I don’t pay attention to the ocean or the unblemished sky, the seaweed coiling around my ankle wanting to pull me down. Instead, I hone my effort in on the beautiful boy by my side, glistening like a long-forgotten jewel.
A part of me weighs heavy over the fact I’m still here. I should be racing home to Lacey. I should have made a bigger effort to find a phone and call my mother to let her know I’m still breathing, but I’m too far gone, too enamored with having Wes for just a few more hours. I’m half afraid if I do call my mother, it might unravel whatever miracle is taking place—cut short my time in this dreamland and yank me back into a pool of shattered glass. One thing’s for sure. I’m not in any hurry to break this spell.
I reach over and run the palm of my hand over his newly slicked hair. Wes has graduated from handsome to an extraterrestrial level of gorgeous that can’t be expressed with mere human words.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I whisper.
“I’m right here.” He squints into me, his dark brows dip in a flirtatious manner.
I glance back at the shore. Everything has reduced to miniature, the people, the places, the fantasy of it all.
“So…” My chin trembles. “Did you give Kresley back the earring?” Really I want to know if he kissed her after she beat the crap out of me. Her reaction to the fact it wasn’t a proposal—if he loved her—that kind of damaging information could kill me for real.
“Yes, I gave it back.” He pans over me with a look of wonder as if he were hardly paying attention to the topic at hand. He looks spellbound, more than a little intrigued by what he sees. “She thought I was giving her a gift.” His forehead creases. “Kresley’s brain automatically reverts everything to cash and prizes.” He splashes a handful of water over his face, washing her away like a bad idea.
“Did you have your talk?”
“Kind of.” His eyes slit to shore. “Things got slightly derailed last night by way of you.”
My stomach explodes with heat. The idea of derailing his plans with anybody of the female persuasion pleases me.
“This isn’t who you are.” I run my fingers through the back of his hair—slick and glossy, so dark, the darkest black—the deepest part of the night sky couldn’t rival that beautiful color.
“Tell me who I am,” he says it playful, almost like a dare.
“You, my love, are Wesley Parker.” I mouth it fully as if some erotic fantasy were about to play out. “You live on your grandpa’s farm with your mom. You love painting more than anything—you mostly paint trees.”
“Trees?” He leans in. I can feel his warm breath rising over my cheek as the current presses us together.
“Because you know I love them.” I blush when I say it, locking our gaze with something just this side of a promise.
“Okay,” he whispers. “Tell me something about you, other than the things with the trees.” He gives a brilliant smile like he’s playing along with my insanity—only I get the feeling that deep down inside he really wants to know. He can’t hide his curiosity. It elongates like a spool, and I run with it.
“I love frozen grapes.” I bite down on my lip. “I have an aversion toward girls named Kresley.” It comes out far more truthful than it does playful. “I write silly things on the back of leaves and give them to you.” I don’t tell him that I wrote “I love you” a thousand times or that he was my everything or that he saved every leaf I’d ever given him in a box beside his bed—that I did the same with the ones he gave me. “You used to help me pick Maple leaves off the ground. We would measure them against our hands.” I spread my fingers out of the water as if to demonstrate.
It feels intimate like this. It feels right.
I wrap my arms and legs around his bare flesh tight as a coil. I’m so thirsty for Wes. Every cell in my body drinks down his touch as the wave sweeps softly overhead.
We pop back up to the surface, and I forget to let go.
Wes rumbles with a nervous laugh at our newfound position. I press my chest into him—let him feel the warmth from my body as I take in his.
“So, did you break up with her?” I’m not really interested in the answer. The girl on the shore, whatever her name was, however big her claim was to Wes, she’s already history—nothing more than a freckle on our existence.
Wes brightens and holds back a smile as though he heard every word.
“I may have.” He gives a little laugh, his chest rumbling over mine.
“Good.” My breathing becomes erratic. It’s bliss like this with Wes, my knees high over his back—my ankles interlocked, securing us together. I never want to get out of the water. “She’s not your type.” My heart picks up pace, delivering one blow after another from my chest to his.
The smile dissipates from his lips as his eyes magnetize to mine. It’s undeniable, this powerful, unbreakable bond—this love affair that spans two lifetimes. Death couldn’t keep us apart. I doubt Kresley, in all her wicked glory, could do much better.
“What’s my type?” It comes out breathless as his arms secure themselves over my back and he pushes me in ever so slightly.
“I am,” I say, edging my mouth toward his.
“Laken.” He breathes my name as if this were so utterly insane, so unforgivably impossible. “We shouldn’t.”
But his lips ache for a kiss.
Everything in him screams we should.
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Acknowledgements
Thank you to
my precious family who supports me day in and day out by enabling me to immerse myself in my fantasies.
Big thank you to Amy Eye and Sarah Oaklief, who put up with far too many late night emails and pestering on my behalf. I love you both.
A super-huge thank you with a cherry on top to my readers. You make the adventures on Paragon a whole lot sweeter knowing I get to share them with you. You bless me far beyond words.
To Him who holds the world in the palm of His hands. To your name be the glory, and power, and honor, forever. I owe you everything.
About the Author
Addison Moore writes young adult fiction and romance. Previously she worked as a therapist on a locked psychiatric unit for nearly a decade. She resides on the West Coast with her husband, four wonderful children and two dogs where she eats too much chocolate and stays up way too late. When she's not writing, she's reading.
Feel free to visit her blog at: addisonmoorewrites.blogspot.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Addison-Moore/140192649382294 -
Twitter: twitter.com/Addison_Moore
Table of Contents
Title page
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Acknowledgements
About the Author