Read A Love Soul Deep for Free Online Page B

“Why’d you bring me here if you wanted food?” And why didn’t he want me, me, me?
    He responded by tipping me back and bulling into my belly. His mouth traced a line down my stomach. I grabbed his head. He tugged my shirt up and kissed my stomach. Settling me onto the grass, he had my fly open before I could think ‘zip’. Anticipation coiled inside of me.
    Okay. Okay, food first.
    I wondered if Mrs. Devine had leftovers stashed anywhere. Or cookies. Mmmm. Shortbread cookies and milk would be delish. My stomach growled. “Can you make it a few blocks?”
    He gave me a look that said, “hell, yes.” It was my turn to lead him. I walked out of the graveyard, feeling a little nostalgic but also slipping into a delicious sense of normality. Back on the street, the world became ordinary again. He and I back in it, walking easily together. Silent, but sending each other looks and nudges that spoke volumes.
    I eased the front door of Mrs. Devine’s gorgeous home open and pitter-pattered up to my room, heels dangling in one hand, and Crew holding the other. As we trucked up the stairs, he let go and grabbed hold of my jeans back pocket instead. Midway up, he tugged. I paused, turning to him. He nodded to the kitchen.
    “Oh, sorry.” I held up my shoes as if that explained. “Habit.” I set the platforms under a little table at the ground floor and led him in to forage.
    We rummaged as quietly as we could and took our makeshift picnic up to my room. Crew spread a spare blanket from the closet on the floor and we sat cross-legged and munched on sourdough bread and butter, baby dill pickles and a slice of the most toe-curling good pecan pie. The tart pickles and sweet pecans went down so good with milk.
    All I could do was chew and watch and grin back at him. Or roll my eyes. Or wink when he did. We were back to ourselves, like any old stuffy afternoon at his mom’s, sending signals across a room full of her country club pals, all over again.
    His plate empty, Crew pulled his T-shirt over his head, wiped his mouth with it and crawled over to lick crumbs and pie filling from my fingers. My heart skipped and soared all at once. “Don’t go,” I said.
“Where would I go?” He could talk again.
“You know what I mean.”
He looked down at the chunk of bread he poached off my plate. “I don’t think when I go is up to me.”
    “Then who decides?” His abs looked so good—so tight—as he sat back, elbows on knees, slouched ever so slightly. I bit into my last crisp little pickle.
    His gaze roved the room, then came back to my face. “You?”
    I half-laughed. “Psshht. If it were ever up to me, you’d never have left. Or you would have come back far sooner.” But then I noticed he wasn’t laughing. “Why would it be up to me?”
    “It was just in dreams before. Back there, wherever that is, if I get enough energy built up, when you are missing me the hardest, I can come through.”
    “And can’t ever stay,” I said, as though I could finish his thought.
    He nodded.
    Worry poked around my chest. “If that’s true, if I got you here and it really is up to me, what happens if I want you to stay forever? Will you reincarnate or something?”
    He put both hands up. The scar on one knuckle reminded me of our making out while prepping food incident. “Whoa,” he said. “Way too much. Answers I don’t have. I’m only guessing here.”
    Not what I wanted to hear, and yet a big part of me knew I was taking for granted I got him again at all. I should be grateful, eat up every extra minute I had with him. In fact, that’s what I meant to do. I’d tell Moira and Kim I was staying a few extra days rather than leaving tomorrow afternoon like we’d planned. I’d exchange my ticket for a refund or credit or something with the airlines. Mrs. Devine would have a room. How many times had she said, “You girls stay as long as you like. We’ve got rooms aplenty” at just about every meal.
    I felt better.