I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2) (21 page)

This kiss—
this
kiss—has been building for weeks, and now that it’s actually happening, it torches and ignites. We become all lips and tongues, little nips, scorching heat, and unleashed passion. I arch into Chase. I need to feel how much he wants me. And, damn, he wants me
bad
.

I want him just as much. I push my hips against him suggestively, letting him know how I feel.

He stills my grinding and just holds me to him. I feel him grow even harder for me. “Chase,” I breathe out against his lips.

He kisses me hard, tells me between frenzied kisses, “You feel so good, beautiful, beautiful, sweet girl. Feel how much I want you.” He circles his hips against mine. “I want you like this all the fucking time.”

I moan and clutch at his body. I am weak with lust and want. My boy’s hand wraps around my hair and urges my head back. I yield to him. He kisses down my neck, over the thin material of my blouse and the sheer bra underneath. I want him to unbutton and unclasp, but he does neither. Instead he finds my right peak with his mouth and sucks my nipple through the barely there fabrics. It’s tortuous and teasing, wet, warm, and erotic. Chase moves to my left breast and does the same. The material keeping him from my skin becomes so wet that it feels like he has my nipple right in his mouth. When he uses his teeth, I gasp. “So good,” I murmur.

I start to slide down the lockers, but my boy is careful with me, keeping me right, handling me like I might break. And maybe he thinks I might, since he’s making promises, promises to never hurt me, and saying things like, “I want this so badly, Kay. I want
you
. But we’ll move at whatever pace you want. You control this, baby. Just…” His lips return to my neck. “…just let me be good to you.”

There’s nodding on my part, and tears. Because this is what I’ve longed to hear, and this is the only man from which I’ve ever desired to be told these things.

Chase kisses away all my runaway tears, right down and along my cheeks. He kisses below my ear…tilts my head back…kisses across my chin…and returns to my lips. The way he moves me to suit him, carefully and gently, it gives me an idea of what it will be like to have sex with him. And I can’t wait. It’s going to be everything I imagined, but so much more. My body wants Chase, yes, but more importantly, my heart does too.

But right now I want to feel him let go a little bit, I need to show him he needn’t be so careful with me. I kiss him hard, then harder still. He responds. His lips devour mine, and his hold gets a little rougher. He grinds his erection into me and our kisses become frenzied—lips, tongues, and hot, hot breaths. My hands trail up and down his back, my fingers spreading. I want to feel as much of Chase as I can. I want him skin to skin, but not here, not in a hallway where anyone could walk in and find us. I guess he’s thinking the same thing. He seems to gather himself enough to slow things down.

When we finally break apart, chests heaving, our eyes meet. “Hey,” he whispers huskily. He kisses the tip of my nose. When he leans back, he smiles. “Guess we got a little carried away.”

“Guess so.” I laugh.

He chuckles, but his eyes are serious. “Do you really want to do this, Kay?” He nods to where our bodies still press to one another. “Us. You and me. Do you want to see what we can be together?”

I place my hands on his cheeks. “Yes, Chase, I do. I want this so much.”

And I do, my heart tells me we could be good together—great and epic—like the stuff of everlasting romances.

Chase leans his forehead against mine. “My sweet, sweet girl, let’s try it, then. I want this too. And I can promise you one thing.” I look into his eyes. “Baby, if you allow me, I am going to be so fucking good to you.”

I don’t doubt a word he says.

It feels like we’ve created a bubble for ourselves, and neither of us cares to disturb it, so it’s a pretty easy decision when we opt to stay in for lunch. There are vending machines in the teachers’ lounge, where we buy pretzels and chips and a Diet Coke for me. I show Chase the locker that holds his last can of lemon-lime, and then we head down to the gym.

Our junk food lunch is eaten on the bleachers as we sit side-by-side. We’re silly and giddy, with lust, and maybe with the fact that we are officially entering into a relationship with each other, something beyond friendship.

I feed Chase a pretzel, since we’re long past all pretenses and I can do things like that now. He does the same, nudging my lips open with a chip. I crunch, bite, and swallow.

“If we could go anywhere in the world, right now,” he asks out of the blue, “just the two of us, where would you have us go?”

I don’t even have to think. “Paris,” I answer.

I feed Chase another pretzel and tell him to pretend it’s a piece of baguette. After he swallows he asks, “What’s a baguette?”

“A baguette is like a French version of a loaf of bread. It’s long and skinny, crusty outside, but soft in the middle.”

Another chip is nudged at my lips, and this time Chase tells me to pretend it’s a piece of this baguette-thing, but covered in brie. I still his hand. “Hey, how can you not know what a baguette is, but you know brie?”

He shrugs. “My mom once bought a cheese called brie and I remember really liking it. She told me it was from France.”

“Hmm…” I mumble before I eat the offered chip, pretending what Chase suggested, that my boyfriend is feeding me brie-covered baguette.

“So, why Paris?” he asks.

“It’s romantic, Chase. We could eat brie on pieces of baguette for real. We could sit at a café up on Montmartre. There are artists there, selling their wares along the sidewalks. You could sell your art there too. You’re certainly good enough.”

Suddenly shy boy blushes. It’s not often I can make Chase blush, so I enjoy it for a few seconds, and then I tell him more about Paris, all the things I’ve read. When I finish he touches my cheek. “I wish I could take you there, Kay.”

I nudge his shoulder with my own. “I’m pretty happy right where I am.”

The next thing on my lips isn’t another chip, it’s Chase. Lunch is forgotten as we kiss and kiss and kiss. When our lips are so swollen we have to take a break—at least for a few minutes—we talk.

“Think they’re missing us at the diner?” Chase asks, sitting back and taking a drink of his lemon-lime soda.

“Nah,” I reply.

He brushes my hair back and covers my neck in a few cool, lemon-lime kisses. “You thought they would the other day,” he murmurs against my skin.

I stiffen and Chase leans back. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing really,” I say slowly. I need to tell Chase what I should have fessed up to the other day.

I take a deep breath, and then do just that. “I just didn’t want to go to Pizza House because there’s someone that works there that I used to kind of date.”

Chase’s expression darkens. “Not that Doug guy, right?”

I’ve told him most of the stuff about my past with Doug Wilson, how the relationship started with our mothers’ influence, and how it degraded over time. It burned Chase to hear Doug didn’t treat me right, particularly as time wore on. If Chase only knew the real truth of how horribly that story ended.

I dispel those thoughts. I’ll tell Chase everything, but not today. Today is too special to ruin it with sadness.

“No, not Doug,” I answer, “He’s in Columbus, remember?”

“Right,” Chase mutters, “lucky for him.”

It thrills me to no end to know Chase longs to defend me, but we’ve gotten off track.

“Anyway,” I say, getting back to the subject at hand. “I went on a couple of dates with the manager at Pizza House last fall, after I quit waitressing there. His name is Nick. He was nice and all, but it just didn’t work out. I guess I was worried it might get awkward if he saw us together.”

Chase looks a little confused, and I’m certain he’s thinking about our conversation yesterday when we were playing putt-putt golf, our discussion about relationships and sex.

I hastily add, “It never got serious, Chase. We never had sex.”

He nods, looking a little relieved. “Well, we can stick with the diner if that’s what you’re more comfortable with.”

And that’s that, we discuss it no more.

When we’re finished eating, Chase guides me to him as I drink the last of my diet soda. I giggle and laugh, his hold on my waist is so light it tickles. “Stop tickling,” I mock-complain, scooting away.

Chase takes the can from my hand and pulls me on top of his body in one swift move. He lays us back on the bleacher, me on top of him. “Okay, no more tickling,” he says quietly.

True to his word, there is no more tickling, but there is a lot more kissing, and more touching too, but still all over the clothes. When Chase’s hands curve down over my ass, I push my center into him. Even though I have on pants, they’re just thin linen, and I feel Chase hardened length beneath me. He groans when I circle my hips.

My hands explore his arms, his chest. Damn, his whole body is so hard and strong. “You’re so strong,” I tell him.

He thrusts up into me a couple of times, showing me how he could use his strength on me in some very good ways. We grind and move against each other awhile longer, but when things get too heated, Chase stills and says, “We better slow things down, baby.”

I nod against his mouth.

“Hey, make me a promise,” he says, his lips brushing mine.

I lean back so I can see his face. His blues are hooded, filled with lust, but also somewhat troubled. “Sure. Anything, Chase,” I worriedly reply.

His fingers trail down my cheek. “Don’t let me hurt you, baby. I couldn’t live with myself if I ever did anything bad to you.”

I know he doesn’t mean anything physical, that’s not even a consideration. Chase doesn’t want to hurt me emotionally, but I don’t see that happening either. He’s already so careful with me. It just doesn’t seem possible he could ever hurt me. I think he just thinks I’m more fragile than I am. But I promise him, nonetheless, so he’ll feel more comfortable.

While I’m still lying on top of him, I play with the sleeves of his tee. I kiss the 72 on his bicep. Chase told me the day we talked about prison that he had the number done in memory of his cell block number.

I move to his other bicep, kiss the scroll of words I’ve never been close enough to read. I do so now, reading them out loud in a reverent whisper, “As I stand before you, judge me not.”

It strikes me as interesting that
I
could have these same words written on my body, it would certainly be fitting. “What does it mean?” I ask.

I can see from Chase’s face that talking about this tattoo is going to be hard for him, more so than any of the others. I think about telling him he can share this one with me another time, but I hold off. I sense he needs to get this out. In fact, I’m certain of it. That’s how well we’ve learned one another.

Chase takes a deep breath and I go to move, but he holds me in place. My boy wants me on him, so I stay as I am, sprawled on him as he tells me about the last night with his father. He talks of how they ordered Chinese food and ate on the floor of their empty, about-to-be-repossessed home. He tells me how his little brother slept through dinner, and how afterward his father asked him to stay with Will while he took care of “something.”

Chase’s lips press together when he gets to this part of the story. I place my head on his shoulder and wrap my arms around him as best as I can. While I hold tight to my heartbroken boy, he rubs his hands up and down my back in a motion that’s meant to soothe us both.

“He never came back,” Chase whispers. “He drove off that road on purpose, I know it, Kay. He didn’t care enough to stay.”

Chase has told me enough good things about his father that I feel honest in saying, “He still loved you, Chase. He did.”

“Not enough, apparently” he says sadly as his arms tighten around me.

I hold on to Chase, wishing I could take away his hurt. His pain resonates in my own heart, it wraps around my soul, mingling with my own deeply rooted pain. Chase has become an incredibly important person in my life, his happiness is as important to me as my own, maybe even more important, at times like these.

It’s at that exact second I realize—in a rush, like a wave crashing all around me—I have fallen in love. I am head over heels in love with Chase Gartner.

Chapter Seven

Chase

It amazes me that one day can be so perfect, and then the next can turn to shit in an instant. That’s exactly what happens as Friday dawns. Not at first though.

The day starts out great, I wake up buzzed. Not on drugs, not on alcohol. I am buzzed on life, buzzed on Kay, buzzed on the afternoon we spent together in the school yesterday during lunch. Kissing Kay—finally giving in—felt right. And good. Damn, real good.

No, good doesn’t even begin to fucking describe what I felt. Finally kissing my girl was something better than good. It was the best. No, more than that too. It was fucking indescribable, okay? Giving in to all I’ve kept buried inside awakened in me something deeper, some feeling yet not experienced. Well, until now. I didn’t say a thing, but I realized what this feeling was—
is
—when I was holding my girl next to the lockers, when my mouth was on hers.

I fucking
love
Kay Stanton. I do. I love my girl, with all my good and all my trouble.

The resistance I was fighting? Yeah, that shit has not only crumbled, it’s fucking annihilated. I am done for; sweet girl owns my ass. Maybe the more appropriate thing to say is that she owns my heart. Since, after all, it’s my heart that swells with all the many things I love about my girl…

I love that I can make her laugh. I love that I pink her cheeks. I love that she’s sweet and tastes like honey. But there’s more. I particularly love the sexy little moans she makes when we’re kissing. Those sounds go straight to my cock. Speaking of which, I want to make my girl come—make her fucking explode—using not only my dick, but my fingers and my tongue. But this is more than just something sexual with Kay. I want to make this woman happy. And not just the fleeting kind of happiness I can give her with a few good orgasms. No, my girl deserves to feel that rare, deep-in-your-heart brand of happiness, like the kind I feel for her.

I guess what it comes down to is this: I just want my sweet girl to let me love her.

That’s why I said so many things I previously kept inside. My girl—and it really feels like she
is
my girl now—deserves to know what’s in my heart. I’ll be good to her, I will, or I’ll die trying. I won’t allow myself to hurt her, and because I made her promise, I feel confident she won’t ever let me.

Maybe she’s not as fragile as I first suspected, but she’s still never been with someone quite like me. I am nothing like that asshole she dated years ago, Doug-fucking-Wilson. He was just some wannabe-bad guy, a manipulative dick who took advantage of Kay being such a good person. I’d never do anything intentionally bad, like that, but I still worry, because let’s be honest, there’s a part of me that will always be bad.

There’s blackness on my soul, ugly smut that’s rubbed in there for good. I can’t erase my past, or change the things I’ve done. And I’ve done some bad, bad things—to myself and to others. I am capable of destruction, in so many fucking ways. The battle with my dark side ebbs and flows, true, but it’s never completely absent. Lately, it’s been ebbing, which is great. But the black, the darkness, it’s always lurking, just waiting to be unbridled.

These worries, though, can’t minimize the perfection of yesterday. And that’s what kissing my girl was—fucking perfection. I hated when Kay and I had to part and get back to work. If I’d had my way, I would’ve hung out with her all day in that gym, just kissing, talking, and loving her, slow and easy.

And what I told her was true. I’d give her Paris if I could. I can’t take her there, unfortunately, but I do have a few ideas. I’ll see what I can do.

Anyway, the few hours following our time in the gym went quickly, thank God. After work, we went to dinner. Not at the diner, no way. Yesterday was special and called for celebration, so I took my girl to one of the nicer restaurants in town. There, we ate by candlelight, even indulged in a bottle of wine. Who knew I had it in me to be such a fucking romantic? But when I’m around Kay, I become someone different, someone better, someone I wish I could be all the time—that guy is good.

Maybe Kay sees this in my soul. It sure seems like she sees someone special. Maybe I can be the man I thought I could be a long time ago. I am finally starting to believe I have it in me.

I don’t know. But I’d count myself a success if I could live up to all the potential my girl sees.

However, right now, I don’t feel so great. I sure as shit don’t feel as if I’m bursting with potential. At the moment, I am pissed as hell and ready to throw my fucking cell against the bedroom wall. In fact, it takes everything I have in me not to do just that.

See, I texted my brother ten minutes ago to wish him a “happy birthday”—Will turns fifteen today—and the little prick finally responded. I felt cautiously joyful when I heard the alert, like the perfection of yesterday might be continuing right into today.

But I guess not.

My brother’s response put an end to that foolish thinking. Will’s text read:
Fuck off.

I feel like texting back:
You little fucker, you finally answer me and that’s the best you come up with?

But I don’t do any such thing. Instead, I run my fingers through my hair and gently set the phone back down on the dresser. If that little shit was here in front of me he’d never have the balls to “say” something like that to my face. But he’s not here; he’s thousands of miles away. Despite the distance, despite the “fuck off” text, I can’t help but still feel love for the brat. I guess that’s why his texted flip-off hurts so much.

I go into the bathroom and get into the shower. I turn the water on, and lean my forehead against the cool tiles.

Fuck.

The emotions I’ve been through these past twenty-four hours—all extreme highs and lows—I’d say something is bound to give. Sooner or later, it will happen. Something is about to push me too far. I just don’t know when, or how, or what will set me off. But I’m teetering at the breaking point. Of that, there is no doubt.

By the time I’m back in my bedroom, drying off and getting dressed, I am wound up tighter than ever. I feel knotted and bound, pulled taut at the center. So when I get to the church a little while later, I head straight into the school and start working. Best if no one sees me like this, especially not Kay.

A gallon of white paint later, the classroom I started on yesterday starts to come together. And I feel better, calmer, more relaxed. But then my cell rings and I see it’s my mother.
Fuck, what now?

When I answer I get an earful, which is amusing since I haven’t heard anything from Abby in over a month.

“Chase, you have to talk to Will,” my mother tells me in a hurried jumble of words.

This is her greeting.

“Hello, to you too,” I throw back, my comment dripping sarcasm.

Yeah, I am aggravated. However, Mom ignores my smartass tone and moves right along.

“It’s getting ridiculous with that kid. No one here can get through to him. Do you know what time he got in last night?”

She’s venting so I just grunt out a, “Nope.”

“Well, he didn’t, Chase, your brother stayed out all night.” Mom pauses so I can let that sink in. “Will finally stumbled in about two hours ago.”

This is all a little concerning, so I ask, “He was okay, right?”

Mom sighs, and sounds resigned when she says, “I think he was drunk, he just went to his room.” Another pause, and then in a pleading voice she adds, “Chase, honey, can you talk some sense into your brother? I really think if anyone can get through to him, it might be you—”

“Yeah, I doubt that,” I interrupt.

“What? Why would you say that? Will looks up to you, he always has. He’ll listen.”

I lean my ass against a piece of furniture I covered earlier and scrub my free hand down my face. “Mom, Will doesn’t look up to me anymore. Maybe he did a long time ago, but he sure as hell doesn’t now. Hell, the kid won’t even talk to me.”

I leave out that dear little brother sent me a lovely “fuck off” text this morning, Mom’s dealing with enough.

I hear the sound of a match striking and Mom sounds like she’s lighting a cigarette. She supposedly quit, but I had a feeling she still smoked. I smelled it on her that day at the courthouse. Well, at least she’s not out gambling to relieve her stress.

“I don’t know, sweetie,” she says on an exhale. “I know I shouldn’t dump this on you, but I didn’t know who else to talk to. Greg’s getting sick of Will’s behavior.” I roll my eyes.
Greg
…of course. “Your brother just doesn’t listen anymore. And ever since school let out he’s been running wild. This isn’t the first night he’s stayed out until morning.”

Mom takes a draw from her cigarette. “We told him there’ll be repercussions if he continues this way, but it doesn’t seem to matter to him. He does what he wants, Chase.” She pauses and adds quietly, “I know he’s been drinking for a while now too. Bottles have been missing from Greg’s liquor cabinet, and the other day I found a few in the back of Will’s closet. They were all empty.”

I still don’t know what exactly my mother expects me to do. But I do offer this: “I’d talk to him, Mom, I would, but he seriously wants nothing to do with me. You saw how he acted at the courthouse the day you guys were out here. The kid hates my guts.”

“Your brother doesn’t hate you,” my mother insists. “He just hates all the stuff that’s happened to you in the past. He’s angry, yes, but I know for a fact Will loves you, honey. Very, very much.”

I hope she’s right even as I mutter, “I don’t know about that.”

“Listen…Chase…” Mom’s voice fades in and out, like some faraway radio station. She must be reaching for an ashtray or something. “If I can get Will to call you, would you talk to him, then?”

“Of course,” I say.

Mom sighs in apparent relief. “That would really mean a lot, sweetie. Oh…and…” She trails off and I know she’s holding something back.

“What?” I ask to prompt her.

I hear the sound of another cigarette being lit, and then, “If Will starts talking to you again…and you can get through to him…what would you think about me sending him out to Ohio to stay with you for the rest of the summer?”

Fuck.
My limits are straining. She’s not going to send Will away like she did me.

“Mom…” I close my eyes for a second to keep calm. “The answer to every fucking problem that arises with your kids isn’t to send them away.”

It’s kind of a shitty thing to say, but it’s true, and Abby needs to finally hear it.

Mom must feel guilty for sending me away six years ago, because she starts talking real fast, like she does when she knows she did wrong. “That’s not fair, Chase. You were out of control when you left Vegas.”

“Sending me away didn’t help, it just made things worse. You thought Gram, of all people, could control me? She was an old lady.” I’m finally letting out what I’ve kept bottled up for years. “You pawned your
problem
—me—off on someone else and look what happened. I ended up in prison. Yeah, great decision, Mom.”

Mom chokes back a sob. “I told you I was sorry for all that, Chase. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay? How many times do I have to say it for you to finally believe me?”

Mom starts crying hard now, and I feel like a real dick. I should’ve kept my stupid mouth shut. She didn’t say she wanted Will here forever, just for the summer. I wouldn’t mind my brother staying here for a couple of months, but only if he wanted. I’d never force him to leave Vegas, like what Mom did to me.

Her crying lessens, but I have to fix what I’ve messed up. “Mom, mom, shh, everything’s all right.” Her breathing hitches. “Look, I shouldn’t have said those things. You’re right. I was out of control back then. I have no one to blame for what happened but myself and—”

“I still gave up on you, baby,” she interrupts. “And I regret it every day. That’s why I helped you as soon as I could.” This is true—my mom did hire the sharp lawyer who ultimately got me out of prison. “I am not giving up on Will, okay? Just forget I mentioned sending him out to Ohio.”

“Mom,” I sigh. “I’ll talk to him, all right? Just get him to call me.”

“All right, I’ll try,” she sniffles.

“Don’t worry, I’ll straighten him out.” I sound more confident than I feel, because what I really feel is sad.

I feel sad for Will, a mixed-up kid. And I feel sad for Mom losing the love of her life, my dad. She got stuck raising two headstrong boys by herself, when, really, she was never emotionally equipped to handle that sort of burden.

I feel like I should have some magic solution to make everything right. It’s unreasonable, I know, but I can’t shake my emotion.

The white walls I painted before Mom called suddenly feel like they’re closing in on me. What I really want is to go to Kay, but she doesn’t need to be dragged into my fucked-up family situation. I’ve burdened her with enough already, like all my troubled-past baggage.

Mom calms and we hang up, but I feel shittier than ever. I can’t stay in this school a minute longer; I have to get out of here for a while.

I stop by the church office to let Kay know I’m heading home early. She asks me if I’m all right, and I tell her I will be. When she waits for me to elaborate—because sharing our bad, as well as our good, is what we do—I tell her I’ll explain everything later.

My always-understanding girl doesn’t press, she just accepts. What I should do is ask her if she wants to hang out later. Tonight is the start of the weekend, after all. But I really just need some downtime, time alone to put my shit back together. I figure I should be good by tomorrow, so I ask Kay if she wants to do something in the afternoon. Maybe drive up north to the cinemas and see a matinee movie.

This puts a smile back on my girl’s face. I need to hold her, be close, so I wrap my arms around her. I hurriedly check to make sure we’re alone, and then I kiss her like I did yesterday, my lips a little everywhere.

“I want to see you happy, baby,” I tell her as I nuzzle along her jaw. “But I’m just no good today. Tomorrow…” I kiss up to her honey-flavored lips. “Tomorrow, I’ll make it up to you, okay?”