Kiss and Burn (12 page)

Eli
took a long swallow from his pilfered alcohol but nothing made that annoyance
fade, disappear.

“Love
is bullshit,” he muttered, beginning to feel a nice buzz. “It’s
all
bullshit.”

A few
splashes sounded off to the left of him and he turned towards the noise. Ah and
there she was, the source of his angst. Standing in knee deep water, her
perfect dress with its perfect capri blue color molding to perfect skin that
shouldn’t have been so fucking perfect!

He
pointed a damning finger at her. “Your fault.
Your. Fault.”

Carmen
blinked up at him, rouge painted lips twitching; her curled lashes fanning. “I
know.”

“I
wouldn’t even
be
here right now if it
wasn’t for you,” he went on.

“I
know.”

“Do you
have any idea how hard it is to admit to yourself when you’ve fallen for
another person? It’s pretty fucking hard.”

“I
know.”

“I want
to punch things! A lot! Mostly Maikao because he was right but I didn’t listen
and now he’s going to gloat!”

“I
know.”

“I’m
not an idiot, Carmen. I’m well aware of why I’d be the last person on your list
to commit to. I can be immature and inappropriate and stubborn and ridiculous.”

She was
smiling now. “I know.”

“I
think with my dick at times but that’s only because Barrington gives
really
good advice.”

“I
know.”

“And
he’s been concentrating on you! Only you! He won’t even look anywhere else and
believe me, baby, I tried.”

“I
know.”

“I’m
not the greatest romantic but I fucking
listen
when you talk. No I don’t see myself being anything other than a firemen
‘til the day that I die but I have a retirement plan and a down payment for a
house put away. I can’t say that I won’t teach my kids tasteless jokes and
useless tricks but they’d want for
nothing.
And yes, sometimes I’m an ass but I’m an ass with a big heart so that puts
me ahead of the rest.”

“I know.”

“And
would you stop saying ‘
I know’
and
say something else?” he pushed. “I know you know! Tell me something
I
don’t know!”

She
placed her hands to the boulder and leaned forward. “I love you too.”

Eli had
to open his mouth twice before words would actually come out. “What?”

Carmen
held his gaze and said again, “I. Love. You. Too.”

He
waited a beat and then the bottle was gone from his grasp, crashing into the
waves and being carried away. Off the rock in a manner of seconds, he hauled
her into his chest and commanded, “Tell me again.”

Before
she could open her mouth and repeat it though, he was snatching the words from
her lips with his own, sucking down her gasp and ravaging her mouth, only pulling
back when they needed to breathe.

He
pressed his forehead to her temple. “You won’t regret this.”

She ran
her fingers down his jaw and simply told him, “I know.”

“Are we
supposed to be doing this in here?”

“Does
it matter?”

“Yes if
it means the detriment of my soul.”

“We’re
married, I don’t think the Lord frowns upon married couples enjoying a bit of
physical love.”

Carmen
stopped in the midst of undoing her husband’s dress shirt. “Physical love?
Could you have made that sound any worse?”

“Yes,”
he answered, moving back to pull her panties down her legs. “I could’ve said
holy copulation.”

She
slapped at his shoulders. “Don’t use those words.”

He
leered as he rose and undid his belt. “I can’t say what I’m thinking. We
are
still in the Lord’s house.”

Pushing
his trousers and boxers past his hips, she looked down. “That does
not
look, in anyway, righteous or
saintly, Mr. Aaronson.”

Eli
pushed her back into the closet’s wall and hooked her thigh over his hip.
“Neither is what someone will see me doing to you should they open that door,
Mrs. Aaronson.”

God,
she loved the sound of that. Loved the sound of the little growl that left his
throat as he worked himself into her. Married. They’d gotten
married.
A few short hours ago she’d
promised to love and obey a man who’d argued the merits of leaving the toilet
seat up on more than one occasion. Just a year after the union of their best
friends, they’d come back to where it had all begun for them to say their own
“I do’s” in a small chapel with the people they loved the most surrounding
them. One of those people was heavily pregnant and had become a stringent task
master during this entire process—which was why Eli and Carmen had slipped out
of the reception the moment Addison’s back was turned.

This
was by no means the best place consummate their marriage being that the Good
Lord could strike them dead at any moment for defiling his home but the second
Eli locked her legs over the crooks of his arms and almost made her swallow her
tongue, Carmen couldn’t be bothered to care. She’d been so afraid of this, so
afraid of never knowing what it was to be wrapped up in a person completely
that she’d almost missed out on this incredible, hilarious, ridiculous man who
gave her belly aching laughs and made her burnt pancakes because he remembered
that she enjoyed having others cook for her sometimes.

He
fulfilled every need she had and when he couldn’t he found something else that
would. Eli was… he just
was.
It was
inexplicable and frightening and all those things romantic comedies told you
love as supposed to be. He
had
ruined
her but in the best of ways. Every morning that she got to roll over just to
catch his leering face, every night that she went to sleep with him poking her
in the lower back and going, “Hey, I wasn’t done” made her realize how
wonderfully she had it. He was the love girls dreamed about, writing angsty
diary poetry. He was the man she’d been waiting for. He was the reason she
burned.

Their
day had gone perfectly, her mother had walked her down the aisle and his
parents had been nothing less than absolutely adorable when they asked that a
small ritual typical to Jewish weddings be implemented, despite the fact that
their son wasn’t an avid follower and Carmen was Catholic. And now she got to
spend the rest of her life in a perpetual fantasy.

“Love
you,” Eli rasped, pounding into her until she bit down on his shoulder.

Carmen
lifted her mouth and pressed a hard kiss to his. “Love you back.” Then she put
her lips to his ear and demanded,
“Elijah,
fuck me. Make me scream.”

He did
and Carmen had a moment where she thought to herself,
“Heh. His hips
do
move
rather well on command.”

When Nikki wrote her first
story in the tenth grade with the help of a pen, three packs of correction tape
and a small, completely non-creepy obsession with cowboys, she knew she was
destined for greatness. Now if she could just convince everyone else...

Her days were spent guarding
her notebooks with her life, and her nights were spent continuing a love affair
with insomnia. Eventually, just a bit disgusted with the traditional love
story, she took a dive into the deep waters of romance with a not-so-gentle or
subtle push by a beloved mentor.

These days she's taken the
time to polish what she refers to as her "writing superiority." She
hopes that the tales she creates will grab the reader's attention, and make
them devoted slaves to her will...er, fans.

If you want to let her know
just how absolutely, positively awesome she is, you can always e-mail her at
[email protected]
, friend her on Facebook at
https://www.facebook.com/nikkiwinter19
, check out her works in
progress at
nikkiwinter.com
or follow her at @Pyro_Nikki
on Twitter.