Sift Read online

  We held on to each other and shook with laughter. It took us a couple of minutes to recover, and it was only another minute after that before we were both stripped down to nothing but skin.

  As Connor sat on the edge of the bed, reaching into a drawer for a condom, I lay there trying not to tremble. He dropped the foil package on the bed beside me and let his eyes slide over my body before laying a warm hand on my stomach.

  “You’re shaking,” he said softly. “Are you cold?”

  “Just nervous. I…you’re only the…there has only been one before,” I whispered, feeling stupid and inept.

  His eyes widened a bit. “Really?”

  I nodded. “I know it sounds dumb, but what if I’ve been doing it wrong for the past few years?”

  He didn’t laugh at me, though he did smile. It was a lazy, sexy, and devilish smile that made my breath stumble on the way out of my lungs. His hand began to move over my skin, toward my breasts.

  With his voice barely higher than a whisper, he asked, “Does this feel wrong?”

  He pinched my nipple, and like a gentle wave, my body rose up a little and fell back to the bed.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  His hand smoothed over my breast, stroked the skin of the valley between my breasts and then he pinched the other nipple.

  “How about this? Does this feel wrong?”

  I whimpered and shook my head again. “No.”

  Connor’s hand eased down my stomach, down the side of my leg, over my knee and then up my inner thigh. He caressed my other leg the same way, down, over my knee, up the inside of my thigh, and then he touched me. Really touched me. Almost immediately he found the small bundle of nerves with his thumb.

  “And this?” he asked, his voice husky. “Does this feel wrong?”

  I moaned as my legs fell open a little wider. I had to fight the reflex to close my eyes and continued to hold his hot gaze.

  “No,” I gasped.

  When one of his fingers slipped inside of me, my hips rose, and my fingers gripped the sheets beneath me. His thumb moved in hard circles on the bundle of nerves and his finger moved with expert precision inside me.

  Without removing his hand, he lay down beside me and kissed me deeply as he fingered me and rubbed me. I moaned, but it was Connor’s moans that made me hotter and slicker.

  All at once, it was too much. His kiss. His fingers. My legs slammed together, and I put a hand on his arm to try to push him away, but Connor didn’t let up. He kept kissing me, kept flicking that finger inside of me and kept stroking that little nub. I wrenched my mouth away from his and cried out wordlessly as my orgasm hit. I held onto his arm to keep him where he was instead of pushing him away and ground against his hand until the climax began to ebb.

  “And that?” he rasped. “Did that feel wrong?”

  I kissed him, deep but quick. “No,” I whispered.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I couldn’t catch my breaths. All of my breaths were gone. Connor had stolen every last one.

  At first, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I was used to my arms being stretched above my head, my hands immobile, but Connor didn’t hold me down. He held on to me as if he were afraid that I’d drop away, fall from the cloud we floated on.

  My fingers eventually moved over the curving muscle of his arms, explored the contours of his back, and pressed into the fleshy curves of his ass as he moved inside me. He closed his eyes and let out a soft exhalation as I touched him. I was gratified to know that my touch affected him just as much as his affected me.

  “And this?” he gasped as he rocked his hips against mine. “Does this feel wrong?”

  I moaned as my hands continued to explore his body. “No. It doesn’t feel wrong. How about the way I am touching you? Does that feel wrong?”

  He groaned and kissed me. “No. It doesn’t feel wrong.”

  When he rolled over and took me with him, I inhaled sharply as I settled on him. His hands gripped my waist, but he watched me and waited. It took me a moment to realize that he waited for me to move. He was handing the control over to me. That was another thing I wasn’t used to, but I followed my body’s instincts and began to rock my hips. Connor’s head fell back and his eyes closed as he moaned, which made me roll my hips more to get another reaction out of him. He moaned again. His eyes fluttered open, closed again, and then opened once more.

  Our gazes locked as I began to understand the power I had over him. A power I never realized I possessed. I moved slowly at first, as I soaked in every sound he made, every expression on his face. I allowed him to touch me, to run his hands up and down my back, to tangle in my hair, and to cup my breasts and squeeze the sensitive tips.

  “This,” he moaned. “This doesn’t feel wrong.”

  Barely able to speak, I groaned, and said, “No. It doesn’t feel wrong.”

  “Tell me how it feels.”

  My body had never felt so electrified. I felt like I was swimming in a sea struck by lightning. I was wet and coiled tight with an energy that made my whole body tremble. Every stroke of his fingers caused another spark. The smell of him, wood smoke and pine in the winter, were like embers in my fire. I just knew that he could feel it, too, feel the same current of electricity.

  “You know how it feels,” I managed to say. “It feels like electricy. It feels so damn good.”

  “Yes,” he hissed, throwing his head back again as his hands slid down to my hips. “Show me, Darla.”

  I moved faster. Harder. Took him deeper. My control began to slip, but not my power, not the power I had over him, but he had a power over me, too. He had the power to make me scream, to shout obscenities into the humid air that was heated by our bodies.

  He held on to me as if I were his only link left to the living world as his body suddenly tensed and then released with a long, deep, erotic groan. The energy coiled inside of me suddenly exploded with a sound like thunder in my ears as my blood rushed through my body and my heart beat stopped and slammed back to life. I cried out meaningless words as he continued to groan, until I finally crumpled onto his chest, panting and moaning, and completely spent.

  “And that?” Connor murmured into my hair moments later. “Did that feel like we did anything wrong?”

  “No,” I mumbled against his chest. “It felt like we did everything right.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I’ve figured out why you are so proficient at making desserts.” Connor’s voice was soft and sleepy. His beard tickled my skin as he slowly placed kisses on my shoulder.

  My voice was just as soft and sleepy but held a hint of amusement as I lay in his arms. “Why?”

  He looked up from his ministrations with a devilish smile that made my heart skip. “Because you taste so damn sweet.”

  I chuckled, and he kissed my laughing mouth. “You really are cheesy.”

  “It’s true! You taste sweet, you smell sweet.”

  “Oh, really?” I gave him a doubtful look. “What do I taste like? What do I smell like?”

  “Hmm.” He gazed at me thoughtfully. “You taste like…stale doughnuts and—”

  I slapped at his arm as he laughed.

  “You smell like three-day-old trash in the summer heat.”

  I slapped him again and tried to remove myself, but his arms were like a steel trap. He held me close and kissed my forehead as his laughter died down.

  I settled back in his arms and waited for him to really answer my questions. He finally did, with a smile on his face, but with serious eyes.

  “You taste like sweet wine, but you melt in my mouth like cotton candy. And you smell like honeysuckle and vanilla with a touch of brown sugar.”

  Another breath gone. Hijacked by Connor.

  “I feel drunk on you,” he whispered. “Feeling a little high, like I’ve just eaten too much candy.” He paused and took in an uneven breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve never felt anything like it in my life.” He slowly combed one hand thr
ough my hair. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

  If I could count how many damn breaths he had stolen from me, I would probably be counting the rest of my life.

  When I was able to breathe again, I whispered, “Whatever it is, you’re doin’ it to me, too.”

  His whole body seemed to slacken a little at that as if he were relieved. Then his gaze intensified.

  “Stay.”

  I looked back at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t drive back tomorrow. Stay here another day.”

  I gave him an apologetic look. “I would, but the snow…”

  “I know. What I’m asking is for you to stay, though, Darla. Get snowed in with me. We’ll drink hot chocolate and eat soup, and you can bake your heart out. Maybe you can make me some of those boozy brownies. We can sit in front of the fire and watch the world turn white.”

  He painted a lovely picture with his words. I imagined myself bundled up in his flannel, my feet in my wool socks and his arms around me in front of the fireplace. I saw us baking together, sipping on soup, and hot cocoa, and giggling. I even saw us in bed, keeping each other warm as our bodies moved in tandem with each other.

  But I couldn’t stay. If the storm was a fluke or we didn’t get as much as predicted, I had to be at work on Tuesday. There was that, and there was…Cade…or there wasn’t…

  I pushed, shoved Caden from my mind. He had no place between Connor and me.

  “Say yes,” Connor whispered.

  I wanted to say yes. I wanted to stay. I wanted to live in the pretty picture he had painted.

  “Yes,” I whispered back.

  We kissed until our bodies melded together again, and found a slow, beautiful rhythm.

  Chapter Twenty

  When I come up with ideas for a dessert or a meal, it is usually during one of two times of my day: just before I fall asleep and when I first wake up. My mind seems to be the clearest at those few moments. I have revelations, epiphanies, and fantastic ideas. Those are the times I also feel acute fear, fear for something I must face, or fear of the consequences of something I’ve already done.

  It was still dark when I opened my eyes and felt that fear settle over me like a blanket soaked in cold water. I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from crying. I couldn’t cry. I didn’t have time to cry.

  Connor’s chest rose and fell slowly against my back. His arm draped over my waist suddenly felt like a thousand-pound weight, pressing me through the fibers of the sheets, the coiled springs of the bed and into the hard floor beneath.

  Carefully, slowly, I wriggled away from him and sat on the edge of the bed. I looked back at him, but he was undisturbed. He slept on soundly. Something pulled at me, made me want to crawl back into bed with him and sleep until the deep feelings of fear and regret washed away, but I couldn’t do that.

  I hadn’t lied to him. Everything we’d done had felt right, but that was what scared me. It did feel right, and it also felt wrong. My insides battled over which side to choose, but when I thought about it, when I used my head and not my heart and body, I knew that I was just as wrong as I was right.

  I told myself that I was just confused and to get back into bed with Connor, but it was because of that confusion that I knew I had to go.

  I got to my feet and soundlessly picked my clothes up from the floor. Thankfully, the door did not creak or make any noise as I pulled it open. I dressed quickly in the living room, where I could make a little noise without waking Connor. I went into the kitchen, silenced my cell phone and stuffed it into my satchel. Using a notepad that was magnetized to the fridge, I wrote out a note. I left it on top of the cinnamon buns and hurried to the front of the house. A couple minutes later, I silently slipped out into the cold, dark morning.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Of course, my dad was up when I let myself into his house. He was sitting in his favorite chair in the living room, drinking coffee and doing a crossword puzzle. He didn’t have to work on Sundays and Mondays, but he still got up at a ridiculous hour, even on his days off. I was pretty sure it was because it was the only quiet time he had to himself.

  He raised his eyebrows at me when I entered. I acknowledged him with a nod as I passed through. I was almost to the hallway that led to the bedrooms when he cleared his throat. I stopped, sighed heavily, and turned back.

  “Yes, Daddy,” I said curtly in a low voice so I wouldn’t wake anyone.

  He looked me over as if he could see the rumpled clothes and busted zipper beneath my coat.

  “Where you comin’ from, girl?”

  I felt like I was sixteen again, like I had just snuck in from a party on the Miller’s farm. I wasn’t allowed to hang out with the Miller boys as a teenager because they were always in trouble. But I wasn’t sixteen anymore, and whatever trouble I was in was my own.

  “I was at Connor’s.” I stared at him, daring him to comment on it.

  His eyes narrowed. “Did he do something to you?”

  I silently laughed without any humor. “No, Daddy. I did something to him, I’m pretty sure.”

  He stared at me as if I were cracking up. Maybe I was. I felt like I was.

  “I gotta go,” I murmured as I rubbed my eyes. “I gotta get outta here.”

  “You can’t leave yet,” he said, looking both confused and angry. “You have to say goodbye to your mama, to Daisy and the kids, and your sister and brother. You can’t just—”

  “Stop it!” I hissed. “Just stop telling me what I can and can’t do! Stop telling me what’s wrong with me, what’s wrong with my life. I know what’s wrong with me! I know what’s wrong with my life!”

  I turned my back on him and went down the hall to the bedroom that once belonged to me, but now belonged to my little brother. I didn’t mind that. Colby had every right to it, but I suddenly felt more out of place in that house and town than I ever had in my life.

  I noisily gathered my things as I heard Daisy’s light footsteps and then her raspy voice out in the living room.

  “Honey, don’t leave,” she said to me when I left the bedroom. She blinked as her eyes tried to adjust from the darkness of the bedroom to the light of the living room. “Why don’t you just lay down for a little bit and—”

  “I’m sorry, Daisy,” I said, hefting my bag onto my shoulder. “I’m not staying, and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  She turned on my dad as I moved to the door. “Damn it, Perry! Why can’t you ever just leave her be?”

  Exasperated, he looked past her at me. “Come on, Darla.”

  I shook my head at him and once again escaped into the night.

  I drove out of town as if the hounds of hell were on my heels. It wasn’t until I was almost an hour away that I realized that my car smelled like a bakery. My eyes fixed on the brand spanking new car freshener hanging from the mirror, and I laughed and cried at the same time.

  The cardboard cupcake was my only company for my long drive home.

  Connor,

  I am sorry. I thought I could stay…I wanted to stay…but I can’t. I have to be at work when the snow clears. Thank you for a great weekend.

  Your Pal,

  Darla

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When I first moved to Philly, I was homesick, suffering from culture shock, and homeless. I had been staying in a tiny, rat-infested motel room in New Jersey and traveled across the bridge daily for school. I had answered an ad on Craigslist for a roommate, half expecting an axe-wielding murderer to meet me, but the person that walked into the Starbucks that day was a feisty Cubana named Maria Camila Perez.

  “But everyone calls me Cherry,” she’d said and gestured to her dyed red hair.

  The red hair was a startling, yet an attractive contrast with her dark olive skin. She had a voluptuous body and the most amazing pair of eyes. They were big, hazel, and slanted like a cat’s. She reminded me of a big cat, beautiful, sly, and cunning. I’d been instantly and good-naturedly jeal
ous of her.

  Cherry had taken pity on a scared, lonely country girl when she’d accepted me as her roommate. Five years later we were still roommates and best friends. I loved her almost as much as I loved McKenzie. I was always glad to see her, but when I returned from Virginia after running away from Connor’s I was a little disappointed to find her at home. Glancing over at the laptop and pile of papers in the living room, I surmised that she was working from home. I just wanted to crawl into my bed and continue with the self-abuse I’d been doing for my entire drive home.

  “Hey, chica!” Cherry cried from the kitchen when I walked into our small apartment. “I wasn’t expecting you until at least the late afternoon. You must have hit the road early.”

  She bounded into the living room and gave me a big Latina hug and kiss.

  “What’s wrong with your face?” she demanded as she looked me over.

  In response, I groaned and headed to my tiny bedroom. I dropped my bags on the floor and tumbled face first onto my bed. I felt Cherry sit down beside me.

  “What’s up, mama?”

  “Ah sweff weff ummwuh.”

  She poked me in the side. “Take your stupid face out of the pillow so I can hear you.”

  I sighed heavily and turned my head.

  “I said I slept with someone,” I repeated hurriedly.

  Cherry’s big eyes grew bigger, and her mouth dropped open. “You cheated on Cade?”

  “No! I mean yes. Maybe? I don’t know.” I sat up, leaned back against the wall and hugged a pillow to my chest. “We had a big fight Friday morning. I left his house after I told him to go to hell and I haven’t talked to him since. In my head, I was so done, but I really don’t know where we stand right now.”