ROAMER by Janine Infante
Excerpts: ROAMER by Janine Infante Bosco – copyright 2017
EXCERPT #1: “The First Kiss”
Admitting I haven’t tried Sushi makes me
realize there are plenty of things I missed out on experiencing. That’s not
saying I would have necessarily wanted to try different things or even liked
them once I had, but I never got the chance to make those choices or decisions.
Aside from different foods, I missed out
on a bunch of firsts too.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, tilting
his head to the side as he stares at me. “If you don’t want Sushi we get
something else…”
I shake my head.
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“I just realized I’m twenty-six years
old and not only are there so many things I probably haven’t tried but there
are things I never got the chance to experience. Things I pushed out of my head
because I told myself there was no point in dwelling on it. Now that I’m free,
it feels wrong, if that makes any sense. I mean I know I lost twelve years and
everyone keeps saying I’ve got a second chance to make a life for myself, but
all those things I missed…I can’t get that back. I can’t replace all the
miserable moments with what should’ve been. I guess what I’m trying to say is…I
can’t trade my painful firsts for the firsts I dreamed I’d have.”
“Says who?”
My brows knit in confusion and I blink
as he turns fully, propping his leg on my bed.
“Name one first you wish you could
change.”
“Why? You can’t change them.”
“Maybe not all of them,” he says with a
shrug. “But if we can manage to change a few that should count for something.”
Biting down on my lip, I think about his
suggestion.
“My first kiss is something I wish I
could change,” I say honestly, lifting my head to meet his expressionless face.
“Papa,” I mutter, cringing as I say the name. “That’s what he made me call
him,” I explain, watching Deuce’s jaw go rigid.
“Rush?”
I shake my head.
“Yankovich,” he growls.
For as long as he kept me, I never knew
his real name. Hearing it now sends chills down my spine as I recall the first
time I was kissed and how Yankovich’s lips felt against mine.
“It was rough and not in a good way,” I
confess. “It wasn’t done in a way to make me feel desired but in a way where I
was scared of what would happen if I didn’t oblige. So, I kissed him back and
hated myself afterward.”
Muttering a curse, Deuce runs his
fingers roughly through his hair before turning back to me.
“Close your eyes,” he directs.
“What for?”
“I won’t hurt you,” he promises, evading
my question. A foreign feeling erupts inside of me, one I can’t quite place and
I find myself closing my eyes, not because he ordered me to but because I trust
he won’t hurt me.
Seconds tick by before I hear Deuce’s
exasperated breath. Then I feel the mattress dip and as I continue to keep my
eyes closed I subconsciously lean forward. His hands lift to my cheeks and the
next breath he releases brushes gently over my lips.
Then it happens.
Deuce lays his mouth over mine.
For a moment neither of us move as our
lips stay locked on one another. Slowly, he then moves his mouth, taking my lower
lip between his and giving it a gentle tug. Sucking softly, he parts my lips
and a small gasp spills from my mouth into his.
My heart pounds against my chest as he
applies more pressure, making our kiss rougher in all the right ways. I’m not
scared or trying to drift away. I’m right there with him, flying high on
sensation and adrenaline. His tongue touches my lips, prying them open.
Following his lead, I part my lips. He pushes his tongue into my waiting mouth
and glides it over mine, tasting me—teaching me that some firsts can be
rewritten.
Pulling back slightly he pecks my lips
once more and I open my eyes. Keeping his eyes fixed to mine, he licks his lips
and drops his hands from my face.
“There you go,” he rasps, as if what
just happened didn’t shake the ground beneath us. Unsure what to say, I lift my
fingers to my lips and watch as he leans his elbows on his knees. Silently, he
stares into space before he slowly turns to me. His eyes immediately dart
toward my mouth but quickly lift to my eyes and I wonder if he liked it as much
as I did.
“You still got those matches I gave
you?” he asks suddenly.
Biting my lip, I stare at him for a
moment then lift my hips and reach into my pocket. Pulling out the book of
matches my cheeks flush and I turn my palm over to display them. His lips quirk
slightly as he slaps his hands against his thighs and rises to his feet.
“Let’s go,” he says, reaching for the
hoodie I draped across the back of a chair. “Is this all you took from Reina?”
he asks, tossing it onto the bed and crossing his arms as he leans against the
wall.
I didn’t know I wasn’t going back
there,” I reply, taking the hoodie from the bed. “Wait, where are we going?”
“To get food.”
“Raw food?” I question, slipping my arms
through the hoodie before getting up from the bed. “No way.”
“Won’t know if you like it unless you
try it,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow “Gotta strike the match, girl,” he
adds, tipping his chin toward the book of matches I’m still holding.
“Are you daring me?”
“Maybe,” he says with a shrug. “You
accepting?”
Licking my lips, I shove the matches
back into my pocket and take a deep breath. If trying Sushi is anything like my
new first kiss, then joining the land of the living might not be so bad. It
might be scary but it’s a leap I’ve got to take.
“Under one condition,” I say, stepping
closer to him. Continuing to lean against the wall, he raises an eyebrow as
amusement flickers in his eye.
“You have to get me ice cream too.”
“You like ice cream?”
“We’re going to find out,” I tell him as
I brush past him and walk into his room.
Grabbing the keys off the table, he
follows me toward the door and reaches around me to open it.
“With manners like that it’s a wonder
your room is a mess,” I tease as I walk outside.
“My room isn’t a mess…it’s lived in,” he
argues, slamming the door shut behind him.
“I don’t have to wonder if you wear
boxers or briefs,” I call over my shoulder as we head toward Wolf’s truck.
“However, I’m not going to lie, I’m a little disappointed.”
“Yeah, why’s that?”
Pulling open the door, I climb inside
and turn to him.
“I took you for a commando type of guy,”
I tell him before shutting the door. Standing in front of the car, he braces
one hand on the hood and peers at me through the windshield with a dumbfound
expression on his face.
Something amazing happens then.
Something genuine and natural.
Something so unfamiliar to me but common
to others.
I smile.
Then he smiles too and I decide Deuce
has a great smile, one that if you stare at it long enough it can become an
addiction. Isn’t that funny? I never knew a person could crave something so
simple like someone else’s smile. I wonder if too much of someone’s smile can
be bad for another person. I’d like to think not but what do I know—I’m the
girl who never thought she’d smile again.
“Looks good on you,” he comments as he
slides into the truck.
“What does?”
“A smile.”
“Yours isn’t so bad either,” I point
out, realizing I’m still smiling. His lips quirk again as he pulls out of the
lot and I find myself staring at him while he drives. The first time I saw
Deuce, I didn’t think much about him. I don’t know if it was the drugs or
something else, but at the time he was just another person. When you’ve spent
most of your life surrounded by animals, you don’t take notice of people. They
all look the same. They all act the same. You’ll expect them to hurt you and
take from you. You give up hope that there are still people worth knowing. You
give up on the good folks and lump everyone into one category.
In the days since I was rescued I’ve
been noticing things. I’ve been noticing people, and right now I’m noticing
Deuce. I’m noticing there is a twang hidden underneath that raspy voice and
every now and then it becomes more prominent.
“Where are you from?”
He looks at me out of the corner of his
eye.
“Caught that, huh?”
“Were you trying to hide it because
you’re not very good at it,” I reply.
“Texas.”
Not expecting that response, my eyes
widen at the admission but I quickly recover.
“Is it true everything is bigger in
Texas?”
Another quirk of the lips.
Yeah, I was addicted.
“I’m not touching that one,” he quips.
Realizing the innuendo, I slap his arm
and attempt to call him a jerk but I get distracted by the size of it.
Things are huge in Texas.
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