Give & Take (Redbeard Cove #2)

30. Lana

Chapter 30

Lana

T hat week, I try on being Raph. That is, I try to think of what we’re doing as a fun game. Serious when it needs to be, like how we act normal around the girls—or as normal as possible when we can’t keep our eyes or hands off each other—and fun whenever we get a spare stolen moment.

I take Shelby up on her offer to take the girls to the movies on Tuesday night, and the minute the car pulls away, Raph appears on my doorstep. We spend the full two hours in my bed, intending to do other things but not making it back into clothes until I get a text from Shelby that they’re on their way back.

On Thursday, Raph comes with me to drop the girls off at dance class. After they’re ensconced, we drive up the mountain, where there’s a short public trail next to the Widow’s Walk B&B, which overlooks the whole town. The view even from the parking lot is spectacular, but Raph promises it gets better.

Once we get out of the car, we follow the trail to the public lookout, which we stop briefly at before Raph pokes around and finds the entrance to a less used trail. It weaves through the trees between a cleft in the rock.

“I had no idea this was here,” I say as we edge around a massive boulder, thick evergreen boughs overhead. It smells fresh here, like soil and cedar.

Raph holds my hand to help me down a steep step on the path. “Apparently teenagers come here to make out sometimes.” He smirks at me. “So you know, I guess I’ll be right at home.”

I laugh so hard at this that Raph throws me a look of feigned annoyance.

But soon enough, we emerge from the brush to a spectacular rocky outcropping.

“Oh my God!” I say as I step onto the closest part of the wide ledge.

Below us, Redbeard Cove twinkles in the early evening light. Beyond, we can see the whole stretch of coast. Even Swan River is visible as a bright speck way in the distance. The ocean, though, is the crown jewel. It sparkles in the pink light of sunset, the islands off the coast like beautiful giants in repose.

“How did you find this place?” I ask, awed.

“I’m just a magnet for special things,” Raph says. But he’s not looking at the view. He’s looking pointedly at me.

I move forward to get a better look.

“Maybe not quite so far out there?” Raph says, running a thumbnail over his eyebrow.

He’s nervous.

“Are you scared of heights?” I ask.

“Aren’t you? ”

“Not really.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, peering down at the ocean. When he looks back at me he’s a little pale. “I’m respectful of heights. I don’t know why everyone isn’t. It seems like a necessary survival mechanism.”

I pick up a pebble and hurl it into the vast space before me. When I look back, Raph looks like he’s going to throw up. His arms twitch at his sides. I can tell he’s trying very hard not to pick me up and haul me backward.

I take pity on him and suggest we set up our picnic in a yellow-grass covered patch a safe distance back from the rocky cliff.

“Yes. That’s good. Very good,” he says, and then he does pick me up, by the waist. I shriek as he carries me to what he perceives is a safe distance.

“It was Cal who told me about this place,” Raph says after he sets me down, answering my question from earlier.

“Is this his make-out spot?” I ask.

Raph undoes his backpack. “Cal is so misunderstood.”

“Like you?”

He grins. “Yes.”

I know what he means, though. Everyone thinks Cal’s a player. He’s the most eligible bachelor in town, now that Mac is taken. Just like I thought Raph was out dating every girl in town.

“I like Cal,” I say. I do. He’s kind and funny, but has more depth than people give him credit for. I meet Raph’s eyes .

Raph tugs at the drawstring. “He likes you too.” He pulls out a soft plaid blanket and shakes it out before lowering it onto the grass. “He’s the one who told me not to give up on you.”

I blink. “You were going to give up on me?”

“No. But he still encouraged me. Silly Cal.”

I laugh softly.

Raph insists I relax while he gets things set up. He pulls out two plastic food containers, a baguette in a paper sleeve, and a bottle of cider with a swing-top lid. He’s even got a couple of steel camping goblets buried in the bottom of the pack. Once the food is all out—it’s a charcuterie plate he put together with cheeses and meats, olives and tiny pickles—he pops the top off the cider and fills both goblets.

“What should we toast to?” I ask.

“Our first date,” Raph says.

I guess it is.

We clink glasses. The cider is tart and bubbly. It feels fresh and clean on my tongue. We have nearly two hours before the girls’ class is over, and I sip slowly, languidly, determined to savor every moment of this magic alone time.

This first date.

Raph stretches out on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. I lean against the boulder behind me, soaking in the view—both the ocean and Raph, who looks like he should be in a magazine. Sexy Picnics Quarterly.

“Are you sorry we’re not at a fancy restaurant?” I ask after another sip of cider, feeling a little ridiculous. Giddy, maybe. “On display for the whole town? ”

Raph pops an olive into his mouth. “Absolutely not. First of all, I’d like to restrict the number of men ogling you in that sundress to me. Second of all… no, Lana.” His eyes meet mine. In the long stretch of sunlight at this hour, his eyes look like dark honey. Or maybe that’s just me, my insides liquifying with his stare. He taps his toe against mine. “I’m on top of the world, Sunshine.”

We gorge ourselves on food and cider—well, I do. Raph stops with the one goblet since he’s driving us home. Then Raph lies on his back, his head in my lap, as we talk about everything. Places we’ve been, places we want to go. Music, books, favorite movies. Luckily Raph has old soul taste, so I know all his favorites.

It’s the most incredible thing, how easy it is for me to talk to Raphael LaForest. I spent so long keeping myself contained and measured, and in the end, it was the man I felt I needed to guard myself against the most who released the dam keeping me from being myself. I know part of it’s just him and the charming way he finds even the most mundane thing a beautiful, philosophical discussion point. But I also know it’s how he is with me , specifically. He’s just…relentlessly interested in what I have to say. He has me sharing things I didn’t even know I knew about myself.

After a while, we fall into an easy silence, me stroking his thick hair, him purring like a giant cat. My head is tipped back on the rock, the last of the sun dripping warmth into my very soul. When I open my eyes. Raph’s looking at me. “You okay?” he asks.

I nod. “You?”

“Hungry. ”

“You said you were stuffed!”

He rises up, resting his hands on my thighs, his chin on top of them. “I haven’t had dessert.”

My stomach plunges deliciously, and it’s then I take in my dress. It’s bunched up my legs where he’s been lying. At my shoulders, the straps have fallen loose onto my arms.

Raph’s looking like a snack himself, with his hair flopping over his forehead, his pupils flaring wide as he inches the fabric higher up my legs.

“What about the teenagers?” I ask.

“Haven’t seen a single one.”

The dress slips higher, his rough fingers moving with tantalizing slowness across my skin.

“See, this is the third reason I didn’t want to have this date at a restaurant,” Raph says.

“Oh yeah?” My breath snags in my chest as he approaches the apex of my thighs. “What was that?”

“Because I wouldn’t be able to eat you out at the table, obviously.”

I let out a choked sound. Of course he just says it.

Raphael grins, licking his lips.

“You really want to do this for me here?” I ask, still a little nervous at how exposed we are. Though rationally, I’m pretty sure we’d be able to hear anyone coming through that dense trail.

“Oh, I’m not doing this for you,” Raph says, gently nudging my knee sideways. “This is a very selfish move on my part.”

I groan, tipping my face back as he draws his tongue up the inside of my thigh. Of course Raphael doesn’t see this as a favor. He loves it. He eats it up, so to speak.

The only thing between us is the drape of my dress between my legs, and as he nudges the fabric up, he freezes.

I bite my lip. I was waiting for him to discover my surprise.

“Lana Bloor,” Raph says. He pushes my dress all the way up and off my hips, exposing my bare flesh. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve been this close to naked all night?”

I smile. “You never asked.”

“Fuck me.”

“Okay,” I say.

Raph lets out a low, growling sound and hooks his arms under my thighs, dragging me down onto the blanket. “You’ll pay for this, Sunshine.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m going to almost make you come.”

“That’s not—” I freeze as I catch his meaning. “You wouldn’t.”

He lowers his face and draws his tongue along my wet opening, making me cry out. “I would.”

The open air hitting my sensitive flesh makes me shiver. But not nearly as much as his tongue and lips when he lowers himself back down on me.

Raph is true to his word. He sucks and strokes and swirls, alternating fucking me with his tongue before returning back to my clit. He brings me right to the edge, my fingers curled in his hair once, twice, three times. Each time he stops right as I’m about to crest that peak .

By the time he drops his mouth to me a fourth time I’m feral. Desperate to reach that release.

“What do you want, Sunshine?” he asks between flicks of his tongue, expertly timed so I can’t use them to get off.

“I want to come!”

“How badly?”

“I’d do anything to come right now.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. I’d suck your cock.”

“Is that payment?”

“No.” The same way he is with me, I’m with him. I can’t get enough of taking him as deep as I can in my mouth. It makes me feel powerful and wanted, and also a little dirty in the best way.

“So you want to suck my cock?” he asks. I want to answer, but he takes my clit between his lips, making me cry out. He’s just a second shy of me coming before he’s up, leaving me bereft as he kneels, hands on his belt.

“Yes,” I say.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I want to take your cock in my mouth, Raph. I want to feel you hit the back of my throat.”

“Jesus.” He pulls himself out of his shorts. He’s magnificent. So hard his flesh strains.

“Should I beg?” I ask.

Raph’s eyes go wide. Then he tips his head back, stroking himself. “Yes.”

“Let me suck your cock.”

“Again.”

“Please, let me suck your cock, Raph. ”

He groans, his eyes on me again, hooded, needy, driving me to the brink without even touching me. “More, Sunshine.”

“Let me,” I say. “Get on my knees”—I get on all fours, crawling the few steps toward him—“And make you come.”

But right before I can reach, Raph cups his hand over the end of his cock. “No.”

“What?” I back up onto my knees.

“Not now. Now I need to make you come.”

Before I can argue, Raph has me flipped around again, on my back and legs spread wide. There’s the flicker of foil, and a moment later, he’s sheathed, coming at me sideways. He bends down and flicks his tongue over my clit, and just as I’m about to come, he seamlessly switches, his thumb swirling in place as he enters me so quickly I come right as he fills me to his hilt. “Raph!” I cry, coming in an explosion of fireworks, my body arching and nearly flailing under him. He’s merciless, working me with his cock and his fingers until I feel like I’m going to faint. The whole time I’m screaming his name, not caring how loud I am and how the sound is probably echoing off the neighboring mountains.

Raph’s still inside me when I come down off the high, when I open my eyes to see him staring at me with such tenderness I think I’ve lost all ability to know anything but him and this moment.

“Did you come?” I ask, completely breathless.

“No,” he says, and I see now how strained he is, how carefully he’s trying not to move too much. “Did you?”

I laugh so hard he does too .

But then I rock my hips and he grits his teeth. “Lana, I won’t last.”

“Good,” I say.

He narrows his eyes, but he can’t hold the ruse. His hand drops to my swollen clit again as he picks up his tempo, and it’s only a moment later, after he’s tugged down the top of my dress, groaning at the way I look bouncing for him as he thrusts into me, that we both come. We both cry out, shaking and pulsing and looking disbelievingly in each other’s eyes. As if this kind of feeling isn’t real. It can’t be real—it’s too good for this earth.

Eventually one of us checks the time, and we realize how late it is. Cursing and laughing and throwing brie unwrapped into his bag even as I protest that we have enough time, he’s soon tugging me back toward the path at a jog. “I’m always there early!” he insists. “I don’t want them to be worried.”

I’m not sure how to tell him that with him, I don’t think any kid has ever been less worried about how much they’re loved.