Then

Evan ~ 22 years old

“FUCK, I’M FREEZING MY balls off!”

“Pussy!”

Tripp whips a snowball at my jacket. The cold, hard snow pelts my arm and my body shivers. Damn, I need heat. I wish I was in the desert, and that surprises me. I never thought I’d say that, having grown up in New York.

Crouching down, I grab a handful of chilly, dense snow and quickly mold it into a ball. With a brief assessment as to Tripp’s location, I lob the frosty grenade at him. He luckily ducks down behind a park bench and I miss. My aim is off, my limbs not as fast or agile as I’m used to. Shit, I’m freezing. Even my ears burn against the icy wind.

“You’d think you never knew what winter was,” Ry jeers, running up behind me to dump a small clump of wet snow on my shorn head.

“Fuck!” I yelp, shaking it off, but ice crystals are already beginning to form in my hair. “It’s been a while and this jacket is shit! What did you do, give me the thinnest one you had?”

It’s blistering cold, and coming straight from Afghanistan, my civilian clothing is limited. While the nights can be chilly, depending on the time of year, and it does snow from time to time, I have no use for a winter jacket out in the desert.

Upon arrival in the States, I borrowed clothes from Ry, including a winter jacket, but something tells me this coat has seen better days—or else I’ve become a wuss. At that very moment, a gust of wind whips straight through me. Mother fuck! I might as well be naked because I’m chilled to the bone.

I’ve been out of the country for years, first in the Army, then as a Green Beret. With the 9/11 attacks, I’ve been deployed several times, sent to active combat zones. I’ve only just been recruited for Delta Force, and when I go back, the highly confidential mission could either mean guns blazing or covertly carrying out our assignment unnoticed.

This is my first time since leaving New York that I’m visiting family. I’d been back in the U.S. a few times, but not on leave. When I did have down time, I spent it close to the base.

Ry was surprised when I called. I should have called Carys or Ma, but I wasn’t sure how I’d handle hearing their voices after years. My timing coincided with his Cornell visit to see Tripp.

My next stop is Carys. I have to see her, although I contemplated not going. It’s not that I don’t want to see her—I do, more than anything — but seeing her is going to be both the best fucking thing ever and the worst.

Walking away from her when I left was the hardest thing I’d ever done. The only thing that kept me putting one foot in front of the other was the knowledge that I would see her again, that I needed to do this so our future would be good, solid, and bright.

We haven’t spoken in years, and my letter writing has been bad as of late. It’s all my doing. As sure as the sun rises and sets, she writes me, and I look forward to every letter, every mundane update on what she is doing, how school is going, the news that she got into Columbia. It isn’t the same as talking to her or seeing her, but I take what I can get.

The three of us trudge down the narrow snow-filled path toward my reprieve from this weather. The welcome aroma of brewing coffee assaults my senses upon entering the campus coffee shop.

Tripp heads to the counter to order our coffees and we find a table off to the side. It takes me a few minutes to finally give up the jacket, the same one I cursed as useless only minutes ago.

“I see our boy hasn’t changed,” I say, tipping my chin in Tripp’s direction.

Ry turns, then glances back at me, his appreciative grin on full wattage. Tripp’s chatting up a cute redhead behind the counter. It’s blatantly obvious they’re into each other with his puffed-up chest and his come-hither smile. The poor girl is done for and doesn’t know how to hide it. Her flaming cheeks, downward glances, and bashful smile are a dead giveaway.

“You gettin’ some?” Ry asks, when Tripp finally brings our coffees.

“Nah, not my type. Too goody-two-shoes for me. I’d corrupt her,” he says dismissively.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna give it a try.” Ry pushes out his chair, not at all subtle about what his game is—calling Tripp’s bluff.

“She’s cute,” I chime in, egging Ry on. We’re on the same wavelength. Tripp’s full of it, and we call bullshit.

Ry’s almost out of his seat when Trip grips his forearm, halting his motion.

“Don’t you dare.”

A slow smirk spreads across Ry’s face. “Hey, I asked, man. You passed. The way I see it, she’s fair game.”

“She’s not. She’s off limits.”

“You’re into her,” I say, stating the obvious, as he gives me a confused expression like he’s coming out of a daze, or more likely a jealous haze. “Don’t deny it.”

Shaking his head, his lips twitch up into a sheepish smile. “Yeah,” he admits, resigned.

“Then make your move,” Ry says.

“Can’t. What I said is true. She’s a good girl, just look at her.” We both turn. “Shit, don’t both fucking look at once!”

We glance at him with matching shit-eating grins, deliberately getting his goat. Damn, I’ve missed these guys.

We’ve kept in touch, written letters, but way less frequently than Ma or Carys. After all, we’re guys. Sitting here harassing Tripp brings back memories of similar times. In some ways, it’s like I never left, but in other ways, it’s glaringly obvious.

“You’re an idiot,” I say.

“I’m not looking for anything serious right now. She’s the kind of girl you don’t screw around with. She’s the kind of girl you date for the long haul.”

“So, till then, you’re going to sit around and watch someone else make their move? Someone else is going to make a move,” Ry predicts.

“Soon,” Tripp responds.

Ry’s words cause my stomach to knot. It’s been three years since I’ve seen Carys. I hadn’t planned to let it go this long, but as more time went by, I knew if I went home and saw her, I wouldn’t go back. As much as I’m torn up about missing her, needing her, and loving her, there’s a deeper, darker part of me that’s pushing me to see my commitment to the Army through.

I’m getting the guidance and sense of accomplishment my father would have given and instilled in me, had he been alive. To be the man Carys deserves, to be a man I can be proud of, I need to do this. I can only hope she understands and isn’t pissed.

But fuck, with me having been away so long, she’s likely with someone else. I intend to talk to Ry, subtly drill him for details. Being back in the real world—or shit, maybe it’s not real because what I was doing in the desert is as real as it gets—has me out of sorts. Going to school and hanging out with friends in coffee shops is so easy, yet it’s also foreign to me, though only a few short years ago I did all these things.

Doing what I do every day makes me see how short life is. Fuck waiting. Life is serious. Tripp going gaga over some girl but refusing to make a move is wasted time. There’s no reason he can’t have fun with her, a woman who does it for him.

There’s no reason to wait for that future date that might never come, that you might never make it to. It goes against everything I said to Carys, but I know better now.

I realize with Sweetness, while I didn’t want to be selfish and make her mine before she had a chance to explore and live, find out what she wanted, I was stupid. I wasted time we could have been together. I was wrong, and I’ll readily admit it.

§

Carys ~ 19 years old

HUSTLING UP THE STREET in high heels is a near-death experience for me. The prospect of falling ass over teakettle and breaking my neck is real. Heels, while a must for many women, are new to me. This is my lame attempt at being a woman, owning my sexuality—or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.

I should have worn my boots—it’s winter, for goodness’ sake!—but no, I do things the hard way. Going to school and working in a bar don’t exactly require professional attire, but if I want to be taken seriously, I need to look the part.

I’m a smart, confident woman and while dressing casually is extremely comfortable, it also means suppliers and other business partners I’m trying to attract don’t take me seriously. They see me as a kid.

Yes, I’m in college, but I’m also an aspiring businesswoman. Ma is encouraging me to take the reins, bit by bit, and I’ve been proving I can do this to both Ma and Ry, my biggest supporters.

I’ve got great ideas to bring in new business to The Waters, and I have what it takes to make them happen. So if dressing like a sophisticated woman gets me heard, so be it.

Blinking, it takes a few seconds to adjust from the glaring sun to the interior light of the bar. Animated voices and boisterous laughter greet me with Ry facing my direction. He’s got a huge smile on his face. Quickly scanning the group at the bar, I account for Tripp, Griff, and Ma before I land on him. My breath catches and my heart stops, sputtering before stalling in my chest. Evan.

His body’s larger, more striking than ever before. Sculpted arms fold over his defined chest. Long, lean legs flex, showcasing his muscles. His dark hair is short, almost fully shaved, and he’s divine. His lack of hair makes his whiskey eyes shine even more, like gems in the sunlight. He catches my eye, and we’re two magnets intensely drawn to each other. Our gaze holds and looking away is unthinkable. Rising to his full height, his virile presence owns the room, and before he even strides to me, I’m his to do with as he pleases.

His amber orbs and measured predatory moves nail me to the spot. My heart is racing, knees weak, and a hot prickle spreads along my chest, tingles multiplying across my flesh in anticipation. Evan crowds my space as his panty-melting dimples greet me. His unique scent wafts over me and my belly whooshes.

“Sweetness.” His low, raspy voice is like a finger teasingly caressing my most private parts as strong hands clasp my waist, lifting me into his arms.

Goosebumps erupt across my skin and it’s not enough. I need to be nearer to him. My arms curl around his neck, holding tight as my eyes mist with joy and disbelief. He nuzzles my neck, squeezing me as his warm breath tickles me.

“God, I missed you,” he murmurs against my skin before his lips skate to the hollow space between my neck and shoulder, kissing me once, twice, and on the third, the tip of his tongue tastes me. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I whimper, trying to stifle my desire. When he adds more kisses to the same spot, a moan escapes my lips, as I lose the battle.

“Fuck, so sweet. I dreamed about your taste,” he whispers in my ear.

With all eyes on us, our audience brings me back to reality and I push on his shoulders for him to put me down. Lowering me to my feet, his hands remain firmly planted on my hips and my hands stay pressed to his hard abs.

Sweet baby Jesus, he’s rock solid. Maybe I should distance myself from him before I have an orgasm right here and now, with my clothes on. It’s been way too long. Of course, Evan’s having none of it, as he wipes at the dampness on my cheeks before dragging me into his side.

“You’re here.” I sound like a dimwitted girl. Duh. His presence has my mind muddled and my insides on fire.

“Sweetness,” he murmurs with devotion.

We silently gaze into each other’s eyes. There’s so much to say, but truthfully, I want to be alone with him. I fear this is one wild dream and I need to savor every second before reality barrels through the door.

“Well, why don’t you two go upstairs,” Ma suggests, herding us through the bar.

Like star-struck lovers, oblivious to anyone else around us, we do as she says, still attached. I should be embarrassed or uncomfortable that my mother encouraged us to be alone, but I’m not. We’ve been apart for too long. I’ve had endless hours of missing him.

“How long are you here for?” I finally find my voice as he closes my bedroom door.

“Three days.”

With his long athletic strides, he’s at my side in seconds, arms folding around me as he lifts me, dragging me against his solid body, my nipples hardening at the jolt of friction.

The spark in his eyes and slight twitch of his mouth indicate that he knows what he’s doing to me. He may only be here for a short time, but I intend to make every second count.

His palm slides up my back to the nape of my neck, leaving tingles in its wake, and his lips roam over mine, firm, loving, and possessive. God, I’ve missed him. Butterflies wake deep in my stomach as he slides his wet tongue into my mouth with an urgent demand.

My hands tighten on his shoulders and his arms pull me in tighter as an electrifying heat sprawls throughout my body. Then his fingers trail down my spine and slip between my blouse and skirt. He brushes my bare skin, his caress slightly abrasive, setting me on fire.

Breaking our kiss, I take a breath and fasten my eyes on him. His are dark with desire.

“Make love to me, Evan. I won’t take no for an answer,” I demand in a throaty voice.

“I intend to.”

His mouth slams onto mine in affirmation. It’s a forceful kiss, crushing his lips hard to mine, crazed and hungry. Needing to touch him, skin on skin, I push to unbutton his crisp white dress shirt.

Glancing down at my own clothes, I remember my blouse is also button-down. We separate slightly and make quick work of undressing, each stealing glances as we try to focus on the task at hand. Our movements are quick and erratic, our excitement and desire threatening to consume us.

Eyes wide, my breath stalls and my heart skips a beat. Evan stands before me in only his boxers. His body has always been beautiful, but now, he’s beyond buff. My eyes trail over his hard chest to his tattoos and then to his flexed abdomen and defined six-pack, tapering down to his slim waist.

My gaze flits back to his ink. When he left, his skin was bare; now, tribal tattoos etched in bold black mark his right pec, shoulder, and down his bicep to his elbow. It’s sexy as hell and mesmerizing. An intense craving to run my tongue along every inch of his ink swells within me.

“Your tattoos…” My outstretched hand itches to trace the designs.

“Fuck, Sweetness, you’re gorgeous.” His words are reverent.

Heat rises to my cheeks as I drop my hands to my sides, feeling slightly self-conscious in my bra and panties, despite his mutual semi-nakedness. His wandering eyes tip up, meeting mine, and my knees almost buckle at the desire in his eyes. Fueled by his fiercely rapt regard for me, I shed the little I still have on.

Before I can fully discard my underwear, he’s on me. His large hands hold my breasts, thumbs tweaking my nipples as they stiffen under his attention. His mouth glides down my neck, burning against my skin.

Anxious and heady with need, I latch onto the waistband of his boxers and peel them off. His hard cock bounces free, jutting out with a pearly bead of pre-cum on its crown. He yanks me against him and low moans slip from our mouths.

My heart slams against my breastbone at the realization that our time has finally come. I will have him inside of me. We’re going to have sex, the first time for both of us. A procession of nerves exploding like firecrackers erupts and converges into a tight bundle of energy and vibration in my sex. I’m not afraid of this, of him. Without a doubt, he’ll take care of me, ensure this is good for me.

Positioning me on my twin bed, with him in between my legs, he dominates the space more than ever. The weight of his hard body holds me to the bed and not only moors me to him but also sends me soaring.

His tongue is in my mouth and he’s kissing me fiercely, taking control, although I’m not sure if he has any control left—I know I don’t. This has been a long time coming. His lips are hard and demanding, and his kisses make it seem like he can never get enough of me, deep and hot with increasing abandon.

His hand skates down between my legs, his thumb on my clit, rubbing circles over the small bead while his parted lips and hooded eyes take me in. No surprise, it doesn’t take long for the building pressure to explode with a ripple of pleasure shooting along my nerve endings.

He gently inserts a finger, moving in and out of me as he murmurs how wet, hot, and perfect I am.

“Sweetness, are you sure?” he asks, as if we’d be able to stop if I had a doubt.

He would, I know that, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to let that happen. I’m beyond ready for him.

“Yes, I want you inside me.” I whimper as another orgasm furiously combusts within me and I clench around his finger.

“Fuck,” he groans.

Widening my legs, he fists his cock, his crown swollen, purple, and teeming with pearly beads of pre-cum. His hand pumps his cock a few times, each stroke stoking the flames within me, and then he lines himself up with my entrance. He’s huge and hard, and for a fleeting moment, the thought of pain creeps into my mind.

Deliberately, he rubs his cock along my pussy, his arousal mixing with mine, as the sensation primes me further. I moan. Sliding into me, he takes his time, stopping to make sure I’m okay. There’s a fullness I never imagined and an intensity I can’t describe. Yes, there’s slight pain; it pinches, intensely, then it slowly subsides. I encourage him further, seeing that he’s barely hanging on to his composure.

“Fuck, Sweetness, you’re so hot and tight. Fucking perfect.” His teeth are gritted and his voice is pained, yet husky, further stirring my need for him.

His hooded eyes stare at me as he rocks back and forth within me.

“Fuck, Sweetness.”

Any discomfort fades, replaced by a fierce tingling sensation racing up my spine as he picks up speed. My chest heaves and hands tremble as everything begins to spin.

“Perfect.” His worshipping tone pushes me further from pain to pleasure.

Clinging to him, I revel in the feel of him against me, his large size on top of me. My hands roam the flexing muscles of his back, down his smooth spine, sinking into his hard ass. Our bodies are slick and I flick my tongue along his damp skin, tasting him. He’s salty, sexy, and pure man.

“I’m not gonna last,” he murmurs, breathless.

“It’s…oo…kay,” I pant.

“No, not before you come again,” he says through gritted teeth, and I worry he’s in pain until the scorching desire in his eyes blasts me.

“Touch yourself,” he commands, and I stutter, thinking I heard him wrong.

He wants me to touch myself? While we’re having sex? He reads my indecision in my eyes and grins.

“Yes, Sweetness, touch yourself. For me. I want to see it.”

At first uncertain, my fingers graze my sex, and like getting a shock, I jerk. Evan’s watchful, intense gaze spurs me on as I circle my clit and realize why he told me to do it. It’s fucking amazing, more intense than any other time I’ve masturbated. I wish it were his fingers on me, but having his eyes on me is just as good.

“Come for me,” he orders hoarsely.

As if his command triggers a chain reaction, my breathing becomes erratic, my heart pounds way too fast, and my skin prickles with heat. I’m on fire.

“Sweetness,” he roars as he climaxes with me, both of us tensing, then he collapses on top of me.

I accept his heat, his dominance, his love, drinking it in like my life depends on it. Closing my eyes and wrapping my arms around him, I melt into him. Tears prick my eyes, and while I’m beyond ecstatic to have him here, to have made love, it’s borrowed time. Three days. I’m already fortifying my heart for his departure.