Taken by Kelli Maine Page A

against the railing. “I’ll take you home.”
    Your words are a slap to my conscience. Panic digs its fingernails into my spine. I’m on my feet and standing behind you in an instant. “No.”
    You turn to me, your face a cocktail of guilt, surprise and reluctance. “I’ll take you home, Rachael. You don’t want to stay here with me.”
    “My mom called,” I say, grasping at anything I can think to convince you. “I didn’t answer it. I didn’t know what to tell her. I didn’t want to be tempted to tell the truth,” I glance down at my feet, “and leave you.”
    You push away from the railing, squat down and start packing food back into the picnic basket. “Call her back. Tell her your consulting job is finished, and you’ll be home in the morning.”
    I dive to my knees beside you, pulling your hands out of the basket so I can take them in mine. But you nudge me away from you. “I wanted you Rachael, and not as an employee.” You grab the olives, sending them rolling over the blanket and deck. “You’re right, I don’t think. I act. I do whatever I need to, to get what I want. I fuck everything up—all the time. We were fucked before we had a chance to even begin.” You reach in the basket, come out with a handful of chocolate cake and throw it against the side of the tree house. “Fuck.”
    You sit and lean against the railing with your knees up and your forearms propped on top of them. Your fingers dangle, your right hand covered in chocolate. With your head hanging, chin to chest, I can’t see your eyes.
    Doubt and uncertainty circle through my chest. I should let you take me home, but I don’t want to. I can’t stop my insane infatuation with you—a tortured, misunderstood, miserable man I can’t get enough of. I’m walking straight into the lion’s den, and I don’t even care. I only run faster.
    You sigh and glance up at me. I can’t stand the anguish in your eyes. I crawl to you and sit on my knees at your feet. Your expression is filled with unasked questions. In answer, I take your wrist and lift your chocolate-covered hand to my mouth. Very slowly, I run my tongue from the bottom of your palm to the tip of your middle finger. You close your eyes and exhale deeply.
    With my free hand, I push against your knee, sliding your legs apart and scooting in between them. Closer to you now, I put your index finger in my mouth and caress it with my tongue. Dark chocolate and raspberry make my mouth water. I suck your finger and slowly pull it out of my mouth.
    You watch me glide the tip of your ring finger over my lips leaving a smear of frosting that my tongue eagerly licks away. “Why are you doing this to me?” you whisper. “You don’t want me.”
    I can’t answer you in words. All I know is what my body is telling me. I suck your pinkie and lick it clean. With only your thumb left, I bring it to my neck and trail a line of chocolate down to my chest. I lift myself higher on my knees and tilt my head, my eyes daring you to resist me.
    Your chest heaves. The muscles in your arms clench. You want this. “I want this,” I whisper, and that’s all it takes to ignite you.
    You press me against your chest with your hands splayed across my back, your open mouth sliding up my throat. You groan into the soft indentation at the base of my neck, sending thrilling vibrations through my body. I gasp and pull you even closer. I’m breathing so hard; I can’t catch my breath. Your hands tangle in my hair and tug my head further back. Your tongue scorches a trail up my neck to my chin. Then your lips capture mine. We’re panting into each other’s mouths. Tongues tangling, pushing, stroking. Nothing has ever felt as good as you.
    “Don’t take me back,” I beg. “I never thought I’d be here.”
    Your hands climb to my neck; your mouth moves to my chin, my cheeks, back to my mouth. “Never. I’ll never take you back.”
    We lean our foreheads together, sticky and sweaty, dizzy and