Twisted Summer Page 4

  “I kissed a couple of boys,” I said feebly. “Esmé’s…special.”

  “Special’s…special’s good.” He cleared his throat, looking away. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  But he had. He kept doing it. And with that realization, a pair of raspy voices began an argument in my head:

  He likes you, Danni. He likes you.

  Oh, come off it. He’s practically your uncle. That’d be just WRONG.

  Look now. Right now! He’s staring down your top!

  No, he isn’t. Even if he was, he’s too hot for you. If the sun looked at Gabe it would get BLISTERS.

  He’s not Chuck Norris.

  And thank God for that. Who’d want to screw Chuck Norris?

  I think we got off topic.

  You’re right. Quick. Stare at his crotch!

  “I’ll blame the cider if you will,” I managed to say, making a great effort to stare at the gorse bushes behind him and not his crotch.

  “Let this be a lesson to you, madam.” He pointed at me with a mocking grin. “Don’t ever get me drunk.”

  We were subdued on the walk home. Conversations kept rising like bubbles, only to burst on my tongue before I could blow them out. When we reached the cool, dark bough of forest that led back to the cabin, we peeled off our sunglasses and stopped to gulp from bottles of water.

  “Shade,” I panted. “Thank God for that.”

  “You’re looking a lot less crispy than you were yesterday.” He smiled. “Always a plus.”

  “A spring chicken and a lobster. What a pair, huh.” I leant back against a tree trunk and closed my eyes, fanning myself. “It’s not supposed to get this hot in England. I’ve had cooler afternoons in Spain.”

  “You know something awkward has happened when we’re talking about the weather.”

  “Oh.” I glanced over. “Sorry.”

  “It wasn’t you, Danni.”

  He stepped forward. He was in my space, closer than he should be, undergrowth crunching beneath his hiking shoes. There was a gush of pear-scented breath over my neck before he raised his finger to blot a bead of sweat from my cheekbone. It dragged, hot and damp. Ah, ah.

  I don’t know quite how it happened. That finger drew up to his mouth and he tasted, savored, blinked. When he opened his eyes, I stared right into them, and his pupils swelled inside their silver-gray skins until they brimmed against dark blond lashes. His lips fell from a great height and it just seemed like the thing to do, to catch them with my own…then he was easing my head back by my ponytail, deepening the kiss. He crushed me against him and he was so, so hard against my belly that I yelped on his tongue—his bold, curious tongue.

  I was making out with my not-uncle.

  I was making out with my not-uncle.

  I jerked from his embrace. My chest heaved in desperation for air and for another life, another place, a different time. To be somebody else. Anything.

  “That was all kinds of fucked.” I pressed my hand over my mouth as I leered up at him. “Why…?”

  I didn’t stop to hear his answer. I tore off toward the cabin, almost skidding into patches of nettles and foxgloved heaps of rocks.

  “Danni—!”

  It wasn’t long before he caught up; the cider had loosened many things, but his agility wasn’t one of them. He stomped past me and opened the door, closed it as I entered…but I don’t think he expected me to disappear into the bedroom without as much as a cuss thrown in his direction.

  “Danni.” I felt the other side of the door brace with his weight. “Open up, please. I can explain—”

  “Explain what?” My eyes were wet, my pulse staccato. “That you’re a screwed up pervert? Well? Huh?”

  He sighed. “You kissed me back.”

  “Nope, I didn’t.” Liar!

  “You did.” He drummed his fingers against the wall.

  “You’re not going to get me out with frickin’ Spooky McTapper.” I sniffed.

  A beat. He stopped drumming.

  Then he laughed incredulously—I could almost see the way those broad shoulders would rove up and down.

  “I’m not trying. Please. Just open the door.”

  “Even if I did kiss you too…it doesn’t make it any less fucked.”

  Now he leaned back again and the wood groaned with the weight of him.

  “I know it’s weird. You…you don’t feel like my niece. And you’re not, not really.” He paused, gulping. His voice was low and conspiratorial. “I know you feel the same way about me. I’ve noticed you looking. And then when you were looking…you stopped being this obnoxious little girl.”

  I was so glad I couldn’t see him; this was mortifying. “Stop…stop grooming me!”

  “You’re eighteen, for crying out loud.” It sounded a bit like he was convincing himself as much as me. “Look. I won’t tell anyone. You don’t have to tell anyone. Nobody has to know about this, Danni.”

  “Why would we want anyone to know?” I said, cautious.

  “We wouldn’t. I’m just…pointing that out. That what we do here doesn’t matter like that.”

  He wasn’t taking any of it back. This wasn’t his apology. It was another advance.

  My head throbbed. Other bits of me throbbed. And before I knew it, my buttery fingers found their way to the door handle and they eased it open with a creak. Gabe stood, chest still heaving, just a few inches away. He looked frustrated and ashamed of himself…and, gah. So lush.

  “Even if I wasn’t your niece,” I whispered, “I’d still be nearly half your age. And a bit tipsy.”

  He gave a helpless shrug, a smile just teasing the edge of his mouth. “I think that’s kind of hot.” Then he plunged balled fists into his pockets as he stamped a foot. “Fuck. I’m going to the nastiest bit of hell, aren’t I?”

  I twisted my hair in my hand, needing something to fill my palms desperately. Concentrate! “Even if I wasn’t young and drunk, I’ve got a girlfriend.”

  “Your list of excuses is getting annoying, y’know.”

  “They’re not excuses. They’re reasons.”

  “Well.” He swallowed heavily. “Now they’re reasons…you still buy them?”

  “Is it even still cheating if you’re a guy and she’s a girl, do you think?” I can’t believe I said that. I was such a callous bitch. Not that logic had been welcome in my head lately for anything.

  “Do you care? Honestly?” Gabe nudged the button fly of my shorts and I jumped as if he’d poked me with a skewer. “This isn’t going away. I tried. I really tried. And I kept looking for reasons that you wouldn’t be interested—they ended up just sounding like excuses. Danni, whatever we do, it stays here.”

  Panic. Panic. My pulse thumped painfully in my ears and before he could reach for me again, I slammed the door in his face and twisted the catch on.

  He groaned. “I’m sorry. I’ll call your Mum if you want her to pick you—”

  “No!” I shrieked. “I just…I need some time…”

  “Okay. Okay. I’ll be out here if you need me. When you need me.”

  When you need me. Oh God. It’s like he knows.

  He does know.

  I paced. Ruffled my hair. I waved my phone around like a moron as if it might magically catch some signal (why didn’t I text Esmé at the pub? Oh yes, that’s right—I was too busy lusting after Gabe). Nothing shook away the smell of the cider on his breath before he kissed me, or the penetrating sweetness of it as he kissed me—

  I was exhausted.

  In the end, I stripped off and climbed beneath a single sheet, hoping the dark of sleep would soothe me. It was only the afternoon; a nap wouldn’t hurt. It’d recharge my brain and I’d wake up with some common sense. Right?

  Right…?

  ***

  It was gone five when I woke up. The sky had turned to shreds of inky ribbon and I was covered in goose pimples from the cool air. I added a little cardigan to my outfit, taking the time to comb out my bed-head and brush
my teeth before I emerged.

  Gabe sat hunched on the sofa, elbows welded to his knees. Football buzzed quietly on the TV. He jumped up when he noticed me, rubbing his nose absently.

  “I fell asleep,” I said.

  “I figured.” He raised an eyebrow as he looked me up and down. “Are you all right?”

  This appeared to be code for are you still bothered that I molested you earlier?

  Did it count as molesting if I’d have chopped off my pinky to do it again?

  I gave a slow nod.

  “Right. Well.” He gestured to the door. “I set a picnic up outside if you’re hungry.”

  “Have we got elderflower pressé and cucumber sandwiches?”

  He grinned. “No. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  I padded out behind him to the clearing. He’d laid the blanket out beneath the stretched arms of a silver birch, and the shell-patterned cushions were piled neatly beside it.

  I flopped down, cross-legged and already too warm again in the sun’s sticky grasp. Gabe landed beside me and reached for the bottle of 7Up.

  “See?” He offered me a glass. “I’m being good. No more booze.”

  “Congratulations. What have we got to eat? I’m starving.”

  Sandwiches, cupcakes and chunks of fresh fruit were laid on gingham-print paper plates. It was kind of romantic. And…adorable.

  “Paper plates aren’t very eco,” I teased, licking the icing from the top of a cupcake.

  “You caught me out.” He slapped his forehead. “Bad Gabe. I must be punished for my sins.” The blanket rustled as he leaned to whisper. “It’s the washing up. I loathe nothing more. At least I’m saving the water though, eh?”

  Before I began to sweat, I wriggled out of my cardigan. He watched every movement, his eyes hooked to the slow reveal of flesh.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he said softly.

  I blushed. “Gabe—”

  “That’s the first time you’ve said my actual name, you know.” He shifted a little closer so that our shoulders bumped. Silence swelled between us. “You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

  “Mmm?”

  “When I asked if you’d ever thought about being with a man.”

  “Oh.” Oh. “That.”

  He brushed the hair from his eyes. “Actually…ignore me. You don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry.”

  “I’ve thought about it.” I chewed my lip; I couldn’t admit that I’d thought about him. His mouth. His hands. His—

  “So…you’re a virgin,” he went on, “technically speaking.”

  “I can’t believe I’m talking about this with you.”

  “Hey.” He rubbed his shoulder against mine. Pressed our arms together. “We can stop if you like.”

  “And talk about the weather?”

  “Yep. Or ferns. Badly named ghosts. All sorts.” He took a deep breath and pressed his palm against my bare thigh. “But I don’t think you want that, do you?”

  “We’re both adults.” I stared at his hand and swallowed. “We can do whatever we like.”

  My skin warmed beneath his; my stomach flipped and my blood burst to a fizzing rally of dominoes. I knew then that I was going to let him do whatever he wanted. Couldn’t see the sense in asking him to stop at all.

  “I do want to kiss you, Gabe.” I tugged up a big handful of grass and squeezed it until my knuckles ached. “I want you to kiss me like you did in the woods. But I have Esmé and—”

  “I’m not looking to be the love of your life, you know. The way things are, it wouldn’t be right.” Now he stroked along my cheek, just as he’d done earlier. “My point is, we’re attracted to each another. It’s getting hard to ignore, isn’t it? But nobody gets hurt if nobody knows about it.”

  “I suppose.” Except us.

  But it wasn’t like that. We’d known each other barely a few days. It took longer than that to hurt someone; it took longer than that for the truth to get a slap in.

  I hoped.

  “If you’re still not sure,” he said hoarsely, “you tell me right now and I’ll go back inside.”

  “I don’t mean to—”

  “I won’t be angry. But I can’t promise to sit here and behave myself.”

  “I’m the teenager.” I managed a smile. “I’m meant to be the one with no will power. You said it, right? The one who does stupid—where are you going?”

  He’d sprung back up, jogged towards the cabin. I hadn’t even given him an answer and he’d already made his decision. Gone back in. I sat for a second with my arms wrapped defensively around my knees, the silence of the clearing weighing heavy in my ears. I hadn’t even given him an answer.

  Then he reappeared in the doorway, kicking off his shoes before he walked back toward me. I wanted him to smile, to make that filthy chuckle--anything that would indicate I hadn’t somehow pissed him off--but his features were almost vacant. Vague smile, pupils fat, his bottom lip bitten; I’d never seen him like that before.

  Then he bent to drop a pack of condoms beside the plate of cupcakes, and my heart spluttered in my chest. I blinked furiously, glancing between his strange expression and the packet. “Um—”

  I fell back beneath the bulk of him. Crack, quake, split—I was just pieces of Danni. He pinned my hands above my head, we seeped into cool blades of turf, and he captured my bottom lip between his teeth. Released it slowly.

  “I’m going to tell you a secret,” he murmured, the edge of his tongue against my ear. “We never really grow out of the teenage stupids.”

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to hear his next words. “And that’s what I am?”

  “No. No. Danni…you’re the least stupid thing I’ve done in a long time.”

  Gabe kissed me with the force one puts behind a knife to slice an apple, and I came apart in his hands, all sweetness and seed and flesh crushed in the melee. His hips settled above mine, my thighs splayed for him, and it already felt like we had no clothes on. I shocked myself with the speed of my desire and though I recognized it from making love with Esmé, this was a whole new world of want.

  “Danni,” he breathed. “I want…I want to be your first. Your first man.”

  The pulse at my throat sprung. What was happening to me? “Y-yes please.”

  He sucked at that same pulse point and I yelped loudly.

  “Nobody’s going to catch us, are they?”

  “Here?” He nuzzled along my jaw line and then looked me in the eye. “No, baby. We’re all alone.”

  “So…we can take our clothes off?”

  He laughed as he kissed me. “I plan on it.”

  He swept the food off the blanket with one arm and cradled me in the other. That chest came into view as he peeled his top off and he glowed in the melty evening sun. He was still on his knees as I stroked the cut muscles, marveling at the firmness of the sinew beneath. I’d never been this intimate with somebody who didn’t have breasts.

  “You like?”

  “I do.” I leaned forward to graze my teeth over his nipple. “You’re so…different…”

  Impatient as somebody half his age, he pawed me while I undressed. Groaned his approval. My breasts were barely free when he wrapped his arms around me, and then my fly came apart in his fingers, my shorts eased off.

  I lay beneath my not-uncle in nothing but my knickers. Help. Not that I wanted to stop, but just…help.

  He pressed his mouth over my breasts, gasping as I knotted my hands in his messed-up hair. His tongue was rougher than Esmé’s, his will tougher, and his body stronger still. I suddenly felt less like the girl who’d arrived, and a lot more like a young woman helpless under a very clever man. It was meant to be frightening, this feeling that my lover was stronger than me. It should have conjured memories from the self-defense class I took in Year Nine, made my fingers clench to fists and my knee raise towards his groin, but this was not like that. I’d barely known him days; who was this Danni and where had she come from?

  I he
lped him out of his remaining clothes, tweaking the zip on his shorts while he snapped the elastic of his boxers down. I felt something land heavily against my hipbone—hot and smooth—and then he guided my hands down.

  “Here.” He showed me how to stroke him in slow, firm rounds.

  He couldn’t be as big as he felt, surely. Holy hell. What was I meant to do with that, throw a party on it?

  “You’re not going to fit,” I spluttered.

  “Don’t be a cliché, Danni.” He grinned though. Like a guy doesn’t want to hear that line. “I promise, it will be fine. I promise.”

  I’d need a local anesthetic first. Esmé was right—cocks were ever so slightly terrifying.

  Gabe toyed with the hemline of my knickers. “Baby,” he whispered, “does your girlfriend make you come?”

  “Yeah.” The word disappeared into the hollows of his throat as I kissed him. “You…um…want to hear about that?”

  “Yeah. And no.” He trailed a fingertip over my clit. “With her mouth?”

  “Y…yeah.”

  “God.” He took a deep breath and probed beneath the fabric. “Right here? Is this where she licks you?”

  “Y—ow.”

  He found my clit again and shook his finger against it gently. “Mmm…right there. Yes, baby?”

  I moaned in response, before jerking my hips up so I could wriggle out of my underwear. I’d had enough of the playing. I just wanted to come, however he wanted to make me do it.

  Judging by the way my knickers were stuck to me, I’d already made good progress in that area.

  Gabe nudged my legs apart again and filled his eyes with the view.

  “You’re open for me,” he said. “Can you feel that? Ready for me, almost…”

  “Almost.” I panted. “Please…”

  He leaned forward, teased the hood of my clit up and breathed over it. I bucked into the empty air.

  “Easy.” He smiled, squeezing my breasts and running his palms down to my inner thighs. “Lie back, okay?”

  His eyes were foggy with delight as he drifted down to taste me. Ah, ah. I kept blinking through the sunshine, trying to remember where I was: outside. Under a tree. Near the cabin. A long way from home and everyone who could tell us how wrong this was.