The Co-op by Tarah DeWitt

Author:Tarah DeWitt [DeWitt, Tarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-19T23:00:00+00:00

chapter nineteen

Deacon

A noise hums out of LaRynn, from somewhere high in the back of her throat. Her scent in my nose, her full upper lip between mine. And my body reacts on instinct; relief, confusion, and desperation mixing a cocktail in my bloodstream. I taste the air between us and her tongue slips into my mouth, her head tipping back for more access. Her teeth sink into my lip and I groan, change the angle to taste her again. Her cool palms glide under my shirt and she scratches my skin with her nails. I press our hips together and she whimpers, the sound like a pull-cord to every nerve ending in my body. One hand slaps into the wall beside her head, my other skates up her ribs, calluses scraping against her smooth skin.

The hand on the wall finds the strands of her ponytail and I lightly tug, expose her neck for me to lick and nip and kiss.

Something thumps on my mind’s door, some warning knock I go on ignoring.

More of that cotton candy smell. I’m floating on a cloud of that scent, sugar and salt and my eyes roll back behind my lids when she tangles her fingers in my hair.

A distant alarm rings in my brain, something that calls up the memory of the last night we kissed like this all those years ago, as a tsunami warning rang through the trees. We can’t, we can’t do this. This is going to end up worse for us both if we don’t fix things first.

But then she glides the heel of a palm up the swelling part of my jeans and I groan before I push myself away, our lips peeling apart with the lightest smack. She frowns at me, swollen lips and mussed hair and Jesus no one should be that painfully beautiful. It’s like taking in a lightning strike as it cracks across the sky; that little shocked, awed pause before thunder rumbles through you. Something equal parts scary and mesmerizing.

“Go,” shreds through my chest. “I think we need to go to bed. This—this shouldn’t happen like this.” I’m a husk, barely another touch and I’ll get swept away. And I may not know much, may feel shaken and rattled, but I know this can’t be about sex this time. We can’t let sex get in the way, can’t use it as a bandaid for the past either, and it’s clear neither of us can handle it on its own with any emotional intelligence.

I watch the expressions roll across her features. Confusion, disbelief, frustration, before landing on pure, unadulterated, seething rage. She snorts and shoulders past me, clipping my still-hard erection with her hip and pulling a grunt out of me.

“Wait—” I barely choke out.

“No,” she bites back.

There’s no door to slam, but I imagine the jerk she gives on the curtains has the sharpness of a knife slicing across me.

I rub my palm up and down my face, adjust my pants as I make my way to my room.

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