A sneak peek at Pete’s story!

 

And here’s an unedited excerpt!

 

She picks up the stick he left and threads a marshmallow onto it, and then holds it out to me. “Here you go, city boy. Your first marshmallow roasting.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I say. “You got one of my firsts.”

She freezes.

Shit. I made a mistake. “I was just kidding,” I rush to say. I’m watching her face and she looks everywhere but at me in the firelight. “I shouldn’t have said that. Out loud.”

I haven’t stuck the marshmallow in the flames yet. She reaches out tentatively and wraps her hand around mine. She turns her wrist, and moves my hand closer to the flames. “Like this,” she whispers. She’s trembling, but she doesn’t let go. I watch as the marshmallow roasts, its creamy skin turning brown. A purple flame engulfs it, and she jerks our hands back, raising the marshmallow toward her lips so she can blow out the fire.

Her lips purse and she blows, and I feel it deep in the center of me. I want to kiss her so bad that I can already taste her. “I would give just about anything to kiss you right now,” I say softly. Shit. Did I say that out loud?

She smiles, but she still doesn’t look at me. She seems almost… regretful? “I would give just about anything for you not to,” she says quietly. She leans the stick so that the marshmallow is closest to me.

She may as well have punched me in the gut.

“You going to eat that?” she asks, nodding toward the marshmallow.

“It’s burned.”

“Some people like them like that.” I watched enough kids eat charred marshmallows tonight to know she’s telling the truth. “If you’re not going to eat it, I am.” She raises her brow at me.

“Go for it, Princess,” I say. She pulls it from the stick, peels off half the outer coating, and passes the rest to me. She talks around the hot goo.

“Try it,” she says.

I’d do just about anything she asked me to do right now.

I eat the marshmallow. “I don’t understand why people like these things. That wasn’t that great.”

“Tomorrow night, we’ll make s’mores.” She rubs her hands together like she’s excited.

“What the f**k’s a s’more?” I ask.

She laughs, throwing her head back. Her hair falls down her back, and I want to gather it up and wrap it around my hand to see if it’s as soft as it looks. “A s’more is a cooked marshmallow, a square of chocolate and a graham cracker, pressed together to make a sandwhich.”

“Anything is better with chocolate,” I say. My mom used to say that.

“True.” She doesn’t speak.

We’re quiet, the crackling flames the only sound, aside from crickets and the occasional kid crying out to ask a question. Before, when I was with girls, it was all about trying to get them out of their clothes. It’s been two years since a woman has taken me inside her, and right this second, I can’t imagine enjoying that any more than what I’m doing right now.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable asking for a kiss,” I finally say.

She snorts. “At least you asked.”

I’m missing something, but I don’t know what it is.

“You promised Gonzo you’d only put the moves on me when he’s around.” Gonzo has the biggest crush on her. It’s too bad he’s only a little kid.

“Let’s go and wake him up, then.” I make like I’m going to get up and she reaches for my hand to stop me. There’s that tremble again. I sit down, but this time, I’m a little closer to her.

She’s quiet for a moment. “This is nice,” she says.

I reach up to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear and she flinches. “Do I scare you?” I ask. I did just get out of prison.

She shakes her head. “No. Not for the reasons you think.”

She picks up a stick and starts to draw in the dirt, her arm clenched around her knees until she’s folded into a ball.

She looks up, her green eyes bright in the firelight. “I just don’t like to be touched.” She shrugs. “That’s all.”

“Why not, Princess?” It comes out more like a whisper.

Her eyes fill up with tears and she blinks them back furiously. I want to touch her, but I have a feeling that would be the wrong thing to do.

“It’s me,” she says. “Not you.” She waits a beat. “I’m sure you’re a perfectly amazing kisser. And I’m missing out on one of the best experiences ever.” She lays a hand on her chest and grins. She’s teasing me now. This is better than a moment before. It’s easier to deal with. But I almost long for the quiet, emotion-filled whispers. “You’ve kissed a lot of women?” she asks.

“A few.”

“A few hundred? A few thousand?” She laughs. It’s a tinny, hollow sound.

“A few,” I repeat.

“Does it get more common-feeling after a while? Like your heart stops feeling like it’s going to beat out of your chest after you’ve done it a few thousand times?”

I chuckle. “Not if you’re doing it right.” I adjust my body, hunching over my lap a little. Her whispered words and heat filled glances are affecting me and I’ll be damned if I want her to see it. “You feel like yours is going to beat out of our chest when you kiss a man?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Then why are you asking?” I ask.

“I feel like that now,” she says. She gets up and I want to grab her and pull her to me. “I had better get to bed.” She stretches, and I can see the little strip of skin between the bottom of her shirt and her jeans. I reach up and tug her shirt down. She covers her belly with her hand, like she wants to block my touch.

She stares into my eyes. She doesn’t say a word. “Can I kiss you yet?” I blurt out. God, you’d think I’d never done this before.

“No.” She laughs.

“Can I keep asking?”

She nods, biting her lower lip and smiling. “Good night,” she says.

“Good night,” I call to her retreating back. She walks into the darkness until it swallows her up.