The Natural History of Us (31 page)

“Are you…”

My voice disappeared as she whipped the top over her head.

Peyton's hair fell wildly around her shoulders and moonlight danced across her soft skin. My hungry gaze was the only thing covering her, and it devoured. As shadows chased each other over the planes of her body—and my eyes recorded the curves to memory—every last drop of my blood pooled south.

“You're beautiful.” My words came out like a prayer. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Any image or fantasy my overactive imagination had conjured the last few months paled in comparison. It almost hurt to look.

“Make love to me, Justin.” Peyton's voice, although shaky, sounded sure. She stood in front of me naked as the day she was born, completely confident in her own skin, and my body responded—

Holy hell, did it respond
.

Lust surged like a freaking missile, ready to launch me right off the bed, and I fisted my hands in my lap in a desperate attempt to keep from grabbing her hips.

I'd been selfish my entire life. Shit, I was a Carter, that's what we did. It was our legacy. I did what felt good, said screw it to the consequences, and took whatever I wanted. Regardless of the fallout. But Peyton deserved better than that. She deserved better than
me
.

“I want to… God, you've got to know I want to,” I said throatily. I licked my lips and pleaded with her to understand. “But I don't want to hurt you. Your first time should be with someone special. Not some pathetic shmuck his own parents don't want.”

I couldn't believe what I was doing—I was telling the girl of my dreams
no
, when everything in me screamed
yes
—but it was the right thing to do. I knew it was, and so help me, I would do right by Peyton. Even if it killed me.

A pained sound left my throat and my hand shot out without permission, grasping the curve of her hip. I was weak, but I could give myself that much. That one touch. Her skin felt like heaven and my fingertips dug in, trying to keep it at just this.

But Peyton had other plans.

Wrapping her hand around mine, she guided it higher until it lay flush against the petal-soft skin of her stomach and said, “The only way you'll hurt me, Carter, is if you say no.”

I shuddered, fighting the desire to give in to what we both wanted, and she moved closer, close enough that if I leaned forward, I could kiss a path across the underside of her breasts.

“This feels right,” she whispered, her long fingers sliding through my hair. Her nails raked over my scalp and a shiver traveled the length of my body. “Don't you think it feels right? I don't want anyone else, Justin. I know you'll make it incredible. I trust you, and I want my first time to be with someone I—”

She cut off abruptly and my gaze shot to hers.

Distantly, I heard an internal warning bell, an alarm sounding trouble ahead. But then she was kissing me… and I thought, fuck the bell.

Every good intention I'd had flew out the window when her hands landed on me. If Peyton was sure she wanted this, wanted
me
, then I was hers for the taking.

Grabbing her hips, I spun us around until she was lying below me on the bed, her hair a cascade of gold across my pillow. She was so gorgeous my chest ached. I took a mental picture, wanting to remember this night, the look in her eyes when she looked at me lying over her, forever. She reached out and trailed a gentle finger down my cheek. Her mouth tilted in a smile and I took it in a kiss.

I threw everything I had into the kiss. Every pent-up frustration, every secret longing, every hidden fear. I was shit with words in person. Without a notebook, I couldn't express
myself worth a damn. But I could show Peyton how I felt. How crazy she made me. How amazing she truly was.

My lips trailed downward, sucking at the tender skin below her chin, and she tossed her head back in a moan.

“
Justin
.” I grinned against her neck, loving the sound of my name on her lips.

I let my wandering hands get their fill. Her gentle curves fit them like a dream, and I relished the feel of her bare skin. Where I was hard, she was silk. I'd never get enough. I could count on three fingers the times in my life I'd felt worthy of affection—my grandmother telling me on her death bed that she was proud of me, newborn Chase wrapping his tiny fist around my finger, and this moment, with Peyton giving me everything she had to give. I never wanted to leave this bed.

Beneath me, Peyton grew restless. Her leg hooked around my hip and her mouth sucked at my neck. When her tentative hands reached down to touch me, a fire set loose in my blood.

Soon, my shorts were gone. They were lost in a blur of eager hands and seeking mouths. I did my best to prep her, my trembling hands finding her and making her squirm. In this way, my past was useful. I knew how to get a girl off with my fingers. Earning their sated smiles momentarily eased the loneliness I always carried within me. But it never lasted. The void always came back.

It wasn't until Peyton clutched my shoulders, her head thrown back in a scream, that I entered her. Her wide eyes squeezed shut on a wince.

I instantly stilled. “Baby, you okay?”

I held my breath, held my muscles tight, ignoring how incredible she felt. How complete
I
felt. In that moment, all that mattered was that she was there with me, still wanting me with no regrets. I swallowed hard and waited, hoping like hell that was the case.

“I'm good,” she croaked, eyes still shut. I needed to see her eyes. “Just need… a second.”

My arms shook, beads of sweat rolled down my face, and my body screamed for me to move. I fisted the sheet in my hand. “Sunshine, I need you to look at me. Please. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Peyton released a shaky breath and the mask of pain shifted on her face. As relief seeped through my veins, I allowed myself a quick inhale and watched as her mouth relaxed, the tension disappearing from her forehead.

A moment later, her eyes opened. Emotions swirled within the blue-gray depths, awe, fascination, a lingering of pain, and a few I was afraid to name. Then she smiled and four words I hadn't heard since my grandfather died, four words that would change my life forever, passed her lips.

“I love you, Justin.”

“Hey.”

I blink my bleary eyes and attempt to focus on the fuzzy form in front of me. It doesn't work. It's been a long night of trying to figure out what this robot wanted. Most recently, that was a bottle and a diaper change, followed immediately by another bottle and burping. Do real babies eat and poop this much? I only just got the thing to settle down. I'm exhausted, stressed, and partially deaf. My ears won't stop ringing from the crying.

Yawning, I gently prop the blessedly silent baby in a borrowed car seat, dig my fists into my eyes and rub, then try again. A sleep-mussed Justin materializes with a tired grin.

“How ya doing?” He whispers the question, almost like it's a real baby and not a robotic demon, and for some reason, it makes me smile. The annoying little sucker sure cries like it's real.

“Peachy.” I heave the slightly off-hinge laugh of the sleep deprived, and scratch the skin on my wrist beneath the sensor
bracelet. “He's woken up twice so far, and the last time was just brutal. Lauren's off baby-duty tonight, and threatened to shake ours, so I figured I'd come hang out here.” I lean my head against the impossibly soft sofa cushion, my heavy eyelids half-closed before a worrisome thought comes to me. “God, I didn't wake you, did I?”

“Nah.” Justin shifts his weight, almost looking nervous. “I just figured you could use a pick me up.” He glances down and for the first time I notice a movie-sized box of chocolate almonds and a twenty-ounce bottle of Sprite near his hip. My greedy eyes widen with excitement. “I'm hoping I got the candy right.”

“Please. Like you ever get anything wrong,” I tease, making grabby hands at the gift of chocolate like it'll be my last meal. Sugar rushes are the cure-all to exhaustion… well, at least until the eventual crash. But right now, I'm all about the instant gratification.

A sad expression washes over Justin's face. “Sometimes,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Sometimes I get things horribly wrong.”

An awkward silence descends.

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to respond to that, so I rip into the shrink-wrapped plastic of the candy. A strange urge to comfort him tenses my arms. The truth is, whether there's a miracle detail that'll somehow change things between us or not, he did get it wrong freshman year. He hurt me—no, he destroyed me. There's never an excuse for that.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Justin pads over to the sofa. With the car seat on the cushion near the wall, I'm sprawled out in the middle… which leaves only one cushion left. The one right beside me. Glancing at the empty seat, it suddenly looks as if it's shrunk during our short chat.

Justin sits and my senses instantly go on high-alert. Phantom tingles explode across my thigh, and I inhale, needing
to calm my nerves. The sharp scent of mint clouds my head, almost making me dizzy. Mint is forever linked with Justin. It's his scent. For about a year after we broke up, a mere whiff would send me into hysterics. Now, it just leaves me feeling confused. And a bit sad.

“Thanks for this,” I say, shaking the box in his direction. “You want some?”

He nods and I pour a few decadent morsels into his extended hand. A really fat one plops in the center of his palm, the holy grail of chocolate—the magic twofer—and he laughs, a low rumble of a chuckle that causes the fine hairs on my arm to stand on end.

“Here.” Justin scoops up the piece and hands it over with a grin. “You know you want it.”

For a nanosecond, I debate not accepting it… but, of course, I do. Come on, it's a twofer! It's like snagging one of Wonka's Golden Tickets.

“You rock.” I pop the candy into my mouth and close my eyes, moaning my gratitude. When Justin chuckles again, I elbow him in the side. “You know, you can head on back to bed. I've got this now. This should keep me happy through the next crying fit. Besides, you're on overnight duty tomorrow.” I peel open my eyelids and smirk. “Best be storing up that beauty sleep.”

Justin lifts his arms in a long, exhausted stretch and kicks his feet onto the coffee table. Nope, no need for beauty sleep on his end. I glance down at my frumpy pajamas and sigh.

“I'm good,” he says. “I'm up anyway. I'd much rather be out here keeping you company.”

His gaze drifts toward the closed door of the other bedroom, and I know what he's thinking. But Justin's wrong. I don't mind that Cade's not out here with me. He probably didn't even hear the baby crying—Drew passed out earplugs at dinner. Besides, it's not his project anyway. Cade doesn't even
go to Fairfield Academy. He's strictly here as a favor to me, so I can't really blame him for wanting to sleep through it.

Justin shifts his hips, turning slightly on his side, and our eyes lock.

But the thing is,
he
heard, and he didn't want to sleep through it. He's here. With candy… and soda… and a listening ear, and quiet company, something I didn't realize I even wanted or needed until he appeared.

The air-conditioning unit clicks on with a low hum, muffling the other noises of the house—the slight snores, the muffled sounds of other baby cries, whispers that prove we're not as alone as it feels. Justin's hand twitches, his pinkie finger moving a hair closer than it was before, and it would be
so
easy to stretch mine out to touch. My finger itches with the urge to do it. But it would be wrong. Incredibly wrong.

I curl my hand into a fist and shove it under my thigh.

“So, the draft's coming up,” I say, snapping my eyes back to his. They're filled with longing and sadness and I don't even want to know what he sees in mine. The thick air around us feels magnetic, like it's trying to pull us together, but I refuse to give in. “Have you decided what you want to do?”