The last few days, I’ve been reading Tattooed Hearts during my regular 60 minutes on the elliptical. I know, I’m reading my own book. Hey, it’s one of my faves.
Below is one of my favorite scenes. Ah young love, it burns hot and fierce.
After a few more steps, she reached her destination. Thoughts scattered, too excited to think, she pushed the door open, stepped inside, and froze. Forrest stood by the pool table with a beer in his hand. He wore a pair of loose black sweats with the Northeastern University logo, battered sneakers, and a T-shirt plastered to his flat abs and broad chest. Though his hair was rumpled and black glasses framed his eyes, he’d grown into his already-striking features, with bone structure now well-defined and perfectly symmetrical. He looked strong, muscular, and more beautiful than ever.
He was…manly.
At twenty, his groupies had expanded beyond teenage girls. Older women flirted more openly now whenever he returned to the island. The few times she’d been around Forrest, his adherent followers’ eyes would flick from her to him and back again. Cool and composed, she’d gladly returned their contemptuous stares.
Forrest’s head jerked up and their gazes locked. He placed the pool cue on the table and took a swig of his beer; his eyes never wavered from where she stood.
“In your email.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the next. “You said you wanted to um…spend time together.”
His hooded gaze swept over her. Feeling a bit self-conscious under his searching eyes, she brushed loose strands of hair from her face. She peered at her appearance–her sweatshirt hung haphazardly on her frame, her denims now frayed. She bit her lower lip and frowned at the worn edge of her sneakers. She looked ragged and unkempt, definitely not the way to go when attempting to seduce your crush.
“You broke a tree house rule,” he said, voice low and rough.
Claire gulped. Time to say hello to her good buddy, rejection. She was all too familiar with that uninvited houseguest. “Should I leave?”
His lips twitched. “Close the door, Claire. It’s cold outside.”
She focused on the beer bottle dangling from his hand. “You’re drinking.”
It wasn’t a question, but for confirmation, he swallowed another large gulp.
“You’re not twenty-one yet.” Damn it! She sounded like a scared virgin. Let’s add that to the list of what not to say when trying to seduce the love of your life.
He smiled. “Don’t tell anyone and I won’t tell your mother you snuck out of the house to come up here to be with me.”
There was something in his expression, the way he spoke, that sent a rush of heat along her spine. “I…”
He placed the beer on the edge of the table, picked up the pool cue and aimed. Complete focus and accuracy. “Don’t worry, I’m not drunk and I promise not to touch you,” he said after making the shot.
Too bad. She wanted to be touched. Claire closed the door behind her.
“We sneak beer up here.” He pressed one finger over his lips. “Charles and Victoria can’t know, or your mom.”
“What else do you sneak up here?”
He tore his attention from the pool table and looked at her. “You mean who. You want to know if we bring girls up here.”
She didn’t care about what Jason, Blake, or Adam did. As good looking as they were, she didn’t want them. “Do you?”
“Girls are not allowed, remember?”
Something loosened in her chest. Relief.
“Do you play pool?”
“I played once.” She’d been terrible, but no need to divulge inconsequential little tidbits of information.
He came to stand next to her. “On a date?”
He was so close to her, all six feet plus inches of masculine strength, making it impossible to breathe, much less think. So she nodded. He was silent for a moment, then to her surprise a faint smile curved his lips as he handed her the pool cue.
“Play with me.”
“I’m not very good.”
“I’ll teach you.” He tipped his head forward. “Come on, let’s play and talk.”
Excitement bubbled up inside Claire’s stomach, her champagne cork ready to burst. She took the pool cue from him and moved to the other side of the table. “Do we need to break?”
“Let’s finish this round as a warm-up for you. You can have–” He examined the table. “Solids.”
Claire leaned over the table and tried to focus on the red solid ball. Problem was Forrest was standing on the opposite side and her eyes kept landing on that bulge in his sweatpants. Crazy thoughts zipped through her head.
Was he wearing boxers or briefs?
What if she slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his pants and touched?
A sensation that surfaced whenever she thought of Forrest, shot between her thighs. Groaning, she took her shot, and missed.
“Your aim was wrong.”
Truer words had never been spoken. “Um…yeah.”
“Here, let me show you.”
He came to stand behind her. “Follow my lead,” he said, way too close to her neck, so close the heat of his breath tickled her skin. “You have to focus on your target. Which ball do you want to hit?”
“What?” Her voice came out husky. She cleared her throat.
He chuckled. “Pick a ball and I’ll show you how to aim. Let’s go for the red ball again. I think that’s the one you tried for before, right?”
Oh, God, she was hot. The last thing she needed was to start sweating. Mouth dried, she nodded. Finely sculpted muscles of his chest pressed down on her back. She sucked in a breath, in an attempt to control the tremors inside.
“There are physical and mental aspects of playing pool,” he said quietly.
Umm…right. Rife and powerful desire spread through her. She nodded again.
“If you want to hit that ball, you need to forget about the others and give all of your attention to the one you’re aiming for. Turn your body a little to the left.” His hands guided her hip right against his hard male heat. “Don’t move. Now pull your shoulder back and swing forward…gently. Move with me.”
Mesmerized by everything Forrest, from the way his mouth was so close to her ear, to the feel of what made him male pressing on her back, she followed the instructions and watched the red ball sink into the corner pocket.
“I did it.” Excited, she tried to spin and face him, hug him, anything to have her hands on him. But he tightened his grip and held her steady.
“Don’t move.”
She stood stock-still. More like bent over. Her bottom pressed against the front of his sweatpants. A rush of heat pooled in her stomach. For the record, he was going commando.
“Focus,” he said in a thick voice. “Aim for the orange ball. Here turn your body this way.” He shifted her hip. His iron-hard body with that thing poking at her, moved along with her. “Remember what I told you, forget about everything else and go with the flow.”
The torture continued for about ten minutes until Claire somehow managed to focus enough to clear all the solid balls from the table. Her palms were damp. Her body was damp too, yearning and aching for him. She turned, leaned on the table and looked into his eyes, watching every slight flicker take a dark, stormy shade. For a beat, she thought he was going to let her go but instead he cupped her face. Warm breath caressed her lips as he leaned ever closer, his nose brushing against hers.
“That day inside the barn and that afternoon in the rain, I wanted to kiss you.”
Her heart leaped, going a mile a minute. He was so close, so real, and she’d dreamed of this moment for so long.
“I want to kiss you now.”
“Kiss me,” she mouthed.
He hesitated. Then slowly, so slowly it hurt, he brought his lips down to hers for one too-short second. Claire’s body trembled. Her heart missed a beat. And then he jerked away, stepping back.
Her fingers went to her bottom lip, feeling the imprint of his mouth. She wanted more. “Forrest.”
“I promised I wouldn’t touch you.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No.”
“Will you regret kissing me?”
“Maybe.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I can’t think straight.” He took another step, furthering the distance between them. “I know you kissed Tyler.”
Her first kiss. The weak attempt to mend her broken heart by kissing a boy one grade ahead of her. Part of her had done it because she knew word would get back to Forrest, and she’d hoped to get a rise out of him. There’d been rumors Jason, Blake, and Adam had threatened to tear Tyler apart limb by limb if he mustered the courage to get close to her again. But Forrest had done absolutely nothing.
“To forget you,” she whispered. “I was hurt.”
“Did it work?” His voice was low and grainy.
While the kiss had been nice, pleasant, it failed to ignite the flame in her bonfire heart. She moved closer, homing in on his lips. “No. If anything I want you more than ever.”
Forrest pressed his forehead to hers and swore beneath his breath. “Claire.”
“Please, Forrest, I’m beg…”
And then he kissed her again. It was magic, the way his lips connected with hers. Among all the dizziness, heat, and clinging to him like a lifeline, something inside her changed, never to be reversed. This new feeling could be dwelled upon later, because, for now, she was exhilarated to feel his breath come and go with hers.
She closed her eyes to better enjoy the sensation as his tongue lightly swept across and between her slightly parted lips. The hardness of his body pressed into hers as the kiss went even deeper. His tongue, filled with the spicy beer flavor, becoming a substitute for all the other parts of his body she’d like to absorb into her own. A rough groan escaped the back of his throat as his lips became more fervent and rougher until they broke for air.
“God, Claire.” He walked over to the large couch, this time putting enough distance that she couldn’t touch him. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“You’re practically my best friend’s sister.” He reached for his beer.
“But I’m not.” She took slow, calculated steps to where he stood with beer in hand. She took the bottle, gulped down a mouthful and nearly spit it out. The shit tasted disgusting.
“You shouldn’t be drinking,” he warned, watching her.
“Technically, neither should you.”
“How often do you drink alcohol?” he asked, ignoring her countering.
There was that one time she had a glass of wine with one of her friends. “Here and there.”
He looked at her for a beat. Obviously not buying her bullshit, then the last thing she expected happened. He grabbed another bottle. “First, let me say, I know you’ve never had beer before.”
“I’ve had beer.”
“Right.”
His tone confirmed she was a terrible liar. Whatever. She was on a mission and took another swig. Yep. Still disgusting.
“Second, let’s make a toast.”
She met his eyes. “A toast?”
He clinked his bottle to hers. “To you and me and all this tension between us.”
“I’m not mad at you. I was just embarrassed.”
“Not that kind of tension.”
Her heart kicked up a notch as realization sank in. “Oh.” Throat suddenly dry, she took another swig of the beer, nearly choking with a hiccup. “And you like this because?”
“It’s an acquired taste.” He quaffed down the alcohol. “Up for another game of pool?”
“Can we talk about the um…tension?” She took another mouthful of the alcoholic drink. Still tasted awful but she needed strength and something to boost her confidence.
“I’m listening.”
“You feel it too?”
“Yes.”
The admission did something funny to her stomach. And lower. She took another swallow of the beer.
“You’re drinking too fast.”
She ignored the warning and gulped down another mouthful. “I thought you didn’t want me. Why are you telling me this now? Unless…”
“There’s no unless. I just thought you should know the feeling is not one-sided.”
They stood in silence, face to face, his beautiful slate gray eyes glinting with lust and desire. He wanted her. He was fighting it.
“I want you, Forrest.” Her fingers skated across the bulge of his pants. “Looks like you want me just as much.”
“Don’t go there.” His voice was rough, his hands gentle as he caught hers and held them still.
“Why?”
“You’re not even legal. You’re seventeen.”
“The legal age for consensual sex is sixteen. I checked.”
“It’s more than that. You should be dating.”
“I don’t want to date. I want you. My heart belongs to you.”
love & kisses,
Mika Jolie
Carla VanZandt says
Beautiful!!!
Gentlemen says
Thanks so much for the post.Really thank you! Great.