The Other Girl - Trisha Wolfe Page 0,17
the ravine of the pass, never to be seen again.
I’m taught this Black Mountain history lesson by Carter as he builds a fire. Nestled on his uniform blazer, I stare into the darkening sky above the ridge. The changeover from day to night happened so abruptly, it’s like we entered another time zone.
Or another world. One where judgement can’t touch us. Because out here, we’re shrouded by the anonymity of darkness. All sins committed in the veil of night never feel wrong in the moment. They feel necessary and needy, our demand too great to be ignored.
Once my feet hit the halls of the academy tomorrow, there will be shame. Maybe even regret. I’m trying not to think about that now. I want this moment to last, for however long I can make it.
My lips are still tender from his kiss. I touch my mouth as the fire crackles to life, the small flame wavering in the open air. The scent of burning pine needles and dry limbs is a balm to my overstressed system.
Carter tucks a Zippo lighter into his pocket. “It’s become a dare,” he says, continuing the tale about Devil’s Tooth. “Kids come up here to get drunk, dare each other to cross the pass. The floor of the ravine is said to be covered with scattered, picked-clean bones. Animals, humans. It was a pretty gruesome thing to hear growing up.”
“How often do people come up here?” I ask.
He gives me a knowing look. “You mean, is anyone going to suddenly show up and find us out?” He stands and moves closer to settle down beside me, drawing my legs over his lap. The act so casual, familiar, as if we’ve done this a million times before. “Not tonight.”
It’s ethereal, this intensity he exudes. There is no hesitancy in him, no need to stop. Think. Weigh choices. Carter is full force or nothing. I’m starting to think that’s why his file reads as it does, that he’s misunderstood. If directed on the right path, aggressive behavior can be perceived as a positive.
CEOs. Lawyers. Politicians. More than not these type-A personalities are praised for their aggressive pursuit in their careers.
His hand traces a path back and forth over my leg, then progresses above my knee, fingers dipping beneath my skirt. An alarm flares inside me, and I lay my hand over his.
“No one comes to Devil’s Bluff during the week. It’s just us,” he says, still thinking I’m worried about being seen, caught. He pushes closer and sweeps my hair from my neck, where he places a tender kiss.
His hair grazes my cheek, and I sigh at the tantalizing feel of it. “How do the kids know to meet here? Some secret code sent out on social media?”
With sudden interest, he looks up. “Why aren’t you online, Ellis?”
I hesitate before forming an answer. “I know it’s hard for someone your age to believe, but not everyone wants to be on social media.” I tamp down the unease his question stirs.
His jaw tightens. “You keep doing that,” he says, a severe edge in his voice. “Bringing up my age.” His movements are fast and fierce as he closes a hand around my ankle and pulls me halfway beneath him. “Guess I’ll just have to prove I’m a man.”
The intense burn in his eyes threatens to consume. He’s all dark energy and combustible matter. He lays claim to my mouth with a searing kiss, stealing all logic and reason.
Something that feels this right can’t be wrong.
My eyes close as I will the inner warning to quiet. Why I’m hesitant has nothing to do with moral or ethical dilemma, though it should. Every touch, kiss, smoldering look…reminds me of Jeremy, and how we moved just as fast. We made love on the beach the very first night we met, and it was intense.
All steam and explosions and professions of love. The stuff romance novels are made of. I was young and naïve about what would happen the next day.
I shove the memory to a dark corner of my mind where it belongs. Carter is not Jeremy, and I am not that girl anymore. Lacing my arms around Carter’s neck, I draw him down on top of me.
I tilt my head back to give him better access as I revel in the feel of his firm body pressed to mine. The weight of him bearing down between my thighs is maddening, our clothes preventing us from getting close enough. A delicious ache