predict how that night would turn out, but he had a sick feeling he would do something incredibly, unthinkably stupid-again.
The following Saturday, Kimber arrived at Moquest’s at eleven, when she knew the party would be good and underway. She parked her car behind a Honda Civic and checked her reflection in the rearview, wishing she hadn’t had to drive. The ride over had been horrifically eventful; she was so nervous and distracted that she’d nearly run over a squirrel, zipped through a red light, and almost slammed right into the back of a truck. She’d intended on asking Jay for a ride, but he’d been mysteriously absent and not answering his phone. He probably had his nose in a book again. Poor guy. He deserved to have a bit more fun.
She traversed Moquest’s small, sad excuse for a front yard, her heels sinking in the dirt and patches of trampled grass. Her heart performed acrobatics with every step; she never felt so exposed and vulnerable and her self-consciousness climbed. She had no idea what this person looked like, but he had seen every inch of her. He could be watching her now, deciding whether she was worth another go. It was a gamble, her being here; she couldn’t be sure he even wanted to see her again, although Moquest-under duress-had said her mystery boy was just as intrigued by her as she was by him.
That reminder gave her confidence a boost. Kimber squared her shoulders and strutted into the house, assuring herself she was the hottest girl alive and no one could possibly resist her. After all, Ferney had lent her another dress, this one a shimmery pale gold with a hem so daring it was probably illegal and a draped, low-cut neckline that exposed her throat and flirted with the idea of a glimpse of a nipple. It was a dress meant to hang loose on women with Ferney’s slim frame, but the sisters had been blown away with how it clung to Kimber’s curves.
“Keep it, it’s yours,” Ferney had said. “I can’t wear it again, knowing you looked better in it than me.”
As far as Ferney knew, Kimber had met someone at last week’s party but he hadn’t asked for her number, so the plan was to return looking stunning to either inspire him to action or attract the attention of someone else. Kimber hadn’t yet mustered up the energy to tell her sister the truth. A tiny part of her even hoped the whole thing would fall through so she’d never have to. What she’d done was, by her standards, immoral, unsafe, and fucking crazy.
And here she was, back for more.
Inside, Kimber caught sight of Moquest standing amid a few other guys, all watching a gaggle of drunk girls with Wii remotes attempt to play
“Oh, shut up.” Heat rose to her face and she looked around, not quite knowing how to ask the one thing she was dying to. She settled on the innocuous “Jay here?” and was quite aware of how lame she sounded. Fumbling to make normal conversation was excruciating when there was just one thing on her mind.
Moquest slanted her the knowing look of a man who’d seen and done it all. “He’s somewhere.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a black sash. Just the sight of it sent arousal jolting through her. “But let’s talk about where
So nervous she could barely walk, Kimber followed Moquest upstairs on trembling legs. The rest of the partygoers were a blur as they paused before Moquest’s door so he could blindfold her.
“Remember,” Moquest said. “No peeking.”
“I won’t.” Her words were little more than a croak.
She heard Moquest open the door. “What the…” He huffed an impatient sigh. “Just a sec.” A pause full of rustling clothes and the sound of electronic beeps followed. “Hey, yo, where are you? I thought… Well, what are you doing out there… God, you’re being such a tool about this. Fine. See you in a few. And you better be there or I’ll cut you.”
The cell phone snapped closed and Moquest took her elbow. “Change of plans. Back down the steps, doll.”
“What’s going on?” Kimber grabbed onto Moquest’s shoulders as they slowly descended the stairs. Fear cut through her heady, hedonistic thoughts and overwhelmed any idea of what the other guests thought of her, wandering around with Moquest and wearing a blindfold. “Does he not want to see me?”
“No way.” They reached the ground floor and he took her elbow again. “He’s just being difficult, for whatever reason.”
She sensed him lead her outside through a cloud of smokers, who murmured their amusement about her sightless state. Then they were in the yard, her heels snagging again as the crowd faded away. “Where are you taking me, some axe murderer’s cabin in the woods?”
“Close-the garage. And watch where you’re going. The neighbor’s dog likes to shit out here.”
“Matthew!” She slugged where she estimated his shoulder was, her knuckles connecting with his collarbone instead.
He let out a “heh,” a laugh not much more than a hiccup. “I’m only being serious.” He caught her hand in his before she whacked him again. “Calm down, Rocky, we’re here.”
Kimber waited what felt like eons with her heart in her throat while Moquest opened the side door to the one- car garage. The smell of moldy, dusty boxes and damp clumps of grass still clinging to gardening tools flooded her nostrils.
“Hello?” Moquest called.
“Yeah, I’m here,” came the deep, muffled reply that spiked her desire.
“Thank God.” Moquest’s hands were warm on her back as he steered her forward, her shoes clacking on the concrete. “Have fun, guys.”
The door closed, and a heavy silence fell over the confined space. She could hear the muffled sound of the party outside and felt so aware of herself at that moment, aware she was on display. Even through the blindfold, she could tell the garage was dark; no stray light or shadows worked their way through her blindfold or closed eyelids.
Kimber heard him clear his throat followed by the squeak of a riding lawn mower seat as he presumably stood. “Hey.” His voice was rusty and vaguely familiar, although her lust dulled her senses and her memory for anything outside this moment.
“Hey.” Her own voice sounded small but loud in the quiet garage. “I was starting to think you didn’t want to see me again after all.”
“That couldn’t be less true.”
She felt his presence before her, and her breath caught. Then came his hands on her bare forearms, and her goose bumps were instantaneous. His fingers entwined with hers, and she imagined white-hot sparks rising from the touch.
“Speaking of seeing you,” he said, “you look irresistible tonight.”
She bit her lower lip and fidgeted, already wanting their innocent hand-holding to escalate to epic
“Trust me, that’s the last thing I want to do.” He sucked in a deep breath, his grip tightening. “But I have to tell you something.”
“Before you tell me,” she interrupted, “will you do me a favor?”
“What?”
“Kiss me.” She could hear herself begging and didn’t care as she leaned into his body, hard and warm beneath the thin fabric of a well-worn T-shirt. “Please?”
He groaned-in defeat or desire, perhaps both-and finally his mouth was on hers. Kimber untangled their fingers and slid her hands up his chest, taking her time and the opportunity to feel him beneath her palms. She could feel his heart pounding. Good, that put them in the same boat. Her arms tangled around his neck and she pressed herself against him fully as their sweet, closed-mouth kisses lost their hesitance and intensified with need. She parted her lips, allowing his tongue to flicker against hers, and the sensation sparked through her, making her whimper. He encircled her waist with his arms and attempted to shuffle backward, then stumbled to the accompanying sound of jostled metal.
He broke off the kiss with a breathless swear. “Fucking lawn mower.” His hands captured hers again as he put some space between them. “Just as well. I hate to say this, but we really shouldn’t do anything else until you hear what I have to tell you.”
