Read Whisper (Novella) for Free Online Page B

my ear, I let it happen.
    Meant to be . . .
    â€œWhat about you?” I asked. “I don’t know anything about you except . . .”
    I trailed off as he kissed my ear, sending a quake down the center of me, splitting me apart until I ached and died for more.
    â€œExcept what?” he asked against me.
    â€œExcept I think that you’ve got things that bother you, too,” I said. “You just don’t like to talk about them on your TellTales. Is there a reason you won’t show yourself to me?”
    â€œNo. I told you that I like it this way.”
    â€œAnd I do, too. For now.”
    I’d echoed his earlier words.
For now
. They hinted at a future beyond this steamy, breath-stealing present.
    Was
there a future?
    It was his turn to sigh, and tremors filled me as he spoke.
    â€œWhat do you want to know, Carley? Should we trade stories, and I’ll tell you that I live with a big family where I’ve always faded into the background? Should I say that my single dad had a revolving door of girlfriends who brought along their own kids and usually left them behind? He’s a nice guy with a good heart but should’ve never been a parent.”
    Whoa.
I hadn’t expected him to come so abruptly clean. And he went even further.
    â€œI guess I should also tell you that I was just as much of a nonentity to everyone else, too. I might as well have been a ghost in school, for all it mattered. I was the guy in the jacket that swallowed him up as I sat by the rear window in class, never saying a word. Would you have seen me if you’d been there then, Carley?”
    Probably not. In high school, I’d been popular. I’d had stars in my eyes and I’d thought I was going to conquer the world. When I found out that I didn’t have that kind of future in me, it’d been a shock.
    â€œMaybe I would’ve seen you, if I’d have been looking,” I said. “Why would you think I wouldn’t want to see you now?”
    â€œBecause you’re from another world. LA, land of movie stars and big-city lights.”
    â€œWere you afraid I’d turn my nose up at you and you’d come off like a—”
    â€œBumpkin? A ’neck? Yeah.”
    I hadn’t taken any psychology classes, but I wondered if my admirer didn’t usually get attached to people except if it was from afar, like on TellTale. He had never mattered to the people in his house or out of it, and if someone like him—or me—tried to matter online, it didn’t hurt as much when no one noticed you.
    â€œThe last thing I ever thought about you,” I said, “was that you were a bumpkin. I actually thought—”
    â€œWhat?” He sounded like he was bracing himself, like he’d taken a lot of noiseless punches and was anticipating one more.
    â€œI thought that you knew just what to say to a girl,” I told him. “I’ve never had anyone say such perceptive things to me before.”
    He seemed to absorb that and, with a burst of emotion, pulled me to him like I might disappear if he didn’t hold on tightly enough. I grasped his arms, wishing that this moment could be as eternal as a picture, always preserved in time, never-ending.
    â€œCarley,” he said in a strangled whisper, and I went liquid, unable to stand up on my own except for the way he was keeping me upright.
    Then he pressed his lips to my neck, just below my ear, and I dug my fingers into his arms. Encouraged, he nuzzled me, kissed me again, but this time in the sweet spot where my neck met my shoulder.
    I was getting moist between my thighs, juiced and ready, even if things were going so fast with him . . . ridiculously, giddily fast . . .
    So what?
I led one of his hands down until his palm was flat on my belly. My muscles rocked, tiny explosions that imitated the beat of the driving music downstairs. He snuck his fingers under my