Shift

“I’m going to talk to Tommy tomorrow and tell him how it is,” he says.

My lips pull in for a tight smile, and I let out a soft laugh.

“Oh, yeah? And how is it, exactly?” I ask.

His hand moves into my hair as he coaxes my chin to tilt, making room for his mouth to cover mine, pausing right before our lips touch.

“It’s me and you, and then Tommy. And if he has a problem with it, he’ll have to sort it out on his own, or pout about it like a whiny little bitch.”

His mouth stretches into a grin that I feel grow as it tickles against my lips. The sensation makes me smile, too. That’s what Dustin used to say in junior high to make Tommy mad. When my brother didn’t want to do something the rest of us did, Dustin basically shamed him with peer pressure. It’s a bit mean, actually, but in this case, I think it’s called for.

“Okay,” I say, the last word I’m able to utter before Dustin’s mouth collides with mine.

We turn, Dustin walking me backward as his hands hold my kiss to his until my back finds the wall of the garage. I reach to the side and flatten my palm along the wall until I feel the light switch along with the button to close the door. I return us to the shadows before the door completely shuts so we can keep doing this without catching unwanted attention.

My thumbs hook under the bottom of Dustin’s shirt and I lift it up his chest, allowing myself to feel the hard ripples of his stomach and chest along the way. His body is warm to the touch, and he lets go of my face long enough to let me pull his shirt up over his head, freeing his arms on his own. He bends down and lifts me against him in a blink, and my legs wrap around his hips as he spins around and moves toward the hood of Tommy’s car. He sets me down, but I keep my grip on him with my thighs. It’s dark in the back of the garage, but my eyes have adjusted enough to see Dustin’s form, and my God, is it straight from my dreams. The ski

Our lips break and I run my hands along the sides of his chest, leaning into him so I can kiss the skin over his beating heart. It’s not long before he bends down enough to find the nape of my neck with his mouth and I lean back, exposing my throat as I arch and urge him to keep going. He does, his teeth gripping the center of my T-shirt, tugging it toward him like a hungry animal. A coy smile plays at his lips when he lets go, his hands taking over, gathering up the fabric of my shirt and pulling it over my head and from my arms in one smooth movement.

The roughness of his chin scratches the skin between my breasts and he soothes the light burn quickly by pressing kisses in his wake, his hand gliding up my side to my shoulder where he slides the straps of my bra down my arms. I arch again on instinct as the straps fall and the cups of lace loosen their grip on my breasts. Dustin’s breath is hot on my skin, his mouth hovering at the edge of the lace as his hands come together to unhook the clasp at my back. When the material breaks free on my spine, I suck in a quick breath, ready for more of this moment I’ve imagined so many times.

His fingers hooked in both straps, I lay back completely as he drags the delicate material down the front of my body, slow enough that I think he’s teasing himself, until I’m bare for him to see and admire.

“Fucking hell, Ha

My palms flatten against the hood at my sides and I lift my chin as my knees fall open, welcoming him closer. His hand flattens on my stomach, fingers splayed wide, and his touch firm as he trails up my stomach to the center of my ribs. Leaning down, he sweeps his other hand behind my back, supporting me as he presses lingering kisses on my stomach, following the same path his hand took.

I whimper as his fingertips tease along the curve of my breast, his thumb moving up one side while his fingers graze the other. I hold my breath while his mouth moves higher, his thumb inching closer to the hard tips of my breast, the ache from want so strong inside me that I feel as though I may pass out from it. When his thumb finally passes over the tender skin of my nipple, I cry out and clasp my legs around him.

Dustin’s breath cools my skin as he samples my skin with his tongue, his mouth moving from the center of my chest toward his hand, growing closer to the sensitive hard bud of my left breast. I feel the sharp pinch as his thumb and finger bring my rosy peak to a painful head that is instantly consumed by his mouth, his tongue swirling around the hard tip while he sucks it raw. Unable to take it, my palms abandon the cool metal of the hood and grasp the band of Dustin’s pants, tugging him closer to my center as my body slides along the hood into him. I hook my right leg around his waist and am rewarded with the sweet pleasure of his hard-on pressed between my legs.

“Ha

So many times I have imagined the feel of him. My hands curl against his skin, my nails scratching along his sides hard enough to leave red lines in their wake. I flirt with the top of his boxers while my heart hammers against my chest. One dip of my fingers under that elastic is all it would take. Dustin wouldn’t stop me. I know he wouldn’t. His control is gone, given over to me, and so much of me wants to take this all the way. It’s what I have been waiting for. He is what I’ve been waiting for, what I saved myself for. To have it—taste it—and be this close and not go all the way feels like something I would regret. My mind made up, I suck in a deep breath for courage and run my thumbs inside his boxer waistband just as the piercing double honk of my dad’s truck horn stops all blood from pumping through my body. The flash of his headlights accompanies the sound.

Dustin’s mouth stills against mine, his lips open and desperate for the air we’ve been depriving ourselves of in exchange for kisses. Heavy work boots clap together just outside the garage and I bring my hand up to Dustin’s mouth, pressing my finger against his lips as if he’d really make a sound right now. This is not the way we want anyone to find out about us, especially my father.

Long seconds pass as Dustin and I lie, pressed together, on top of my brother’s car. Our shirts are somewhere on the other side of the garage, along with my bra. My dad hasn’t gone hiking in months, and of all mornings for him to decide to get up early, he chooses now.

The heavy clunk of my dad’s truck door is followed by the growl of his motor. A breath later, the line where the garage door meets the concrete lights up as his headlights pass on his way out of the driveway. We remain still, wordless and holding our breath while the familiar rumble of his truck grows fainter until we can’t hear it at all.