Like Lovers Do

by Tracey Livesay

  Placing a hand on the small of her back—he couldn’t stop touching her!—he led her out of the light room onto the gallery deck that rimmed the top of the lighthouse.

  “Wow.” Nic pressed her hands to her cheeks and stepped over to the railing to stare out at the breathtaking view before them. “This is so peaceful and serene.”

  Thin wispy clouds twisted in the sunny sky like stretched cotton balls. Sailboats dotted the glistening harbor water and fishermen lined the sandy shore, rods outstretched, patiently waiting for their next catch.

  “Absolutely beautiful,” she murmured.

  A slight breeze lifted her loose curls and blew them across her face. They concealed portions of her profile, though nothing could take away from its exquisiteness. “Yeah, it is.”

  She looked at him then rolled her eyes. “That was so corny. Even for you.”

  “Maybe, but it doesn’t make it any less true.”

  She surprised him by letting it go. “You know a lot about this lighthouse.”

  “When we’d come to the Vineyard on vacation, this was always one of my first stops.”

  “With your parents?”

  “No. I came by myself.”

  Even when he was a kid, his parents didn’t seem to care when he’d get on his bike and ride off for hours at a time. Didn’t care or didn’t notice. After he met Davis and Palmer, he spent most of his time with them.

  He leaned over and braced his forearms on the railing. “The support and unconditional love you get from your mother? You shouldn’t take it for granted.”

  “I know you don’t always get along, but they have to be proud of you, considering what you’ve accomplished.”

  “They’re not. My mother even stopped by my office last week to offer me a job back at Van Mont Industries.”

  She frowned. “That’s a shitty thing to do. You already have a job.”

  “But it’s not good enough for them. It never will be.”

  He briefly recapped his conversation with Fallon.

  “Damn. No wonder you rarely talk about your parents or growing up. Was it always that bad?”

  He clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to talk about his childhood. Not after last night. He’d finally experienced being with Nic in the way he’d never thought possible and it had been better than he could’ve dreamed. He didn’t want to taint their encounter by dredging up his issues with his family.

  “I had all of the material things a kid could ever want. I made good grades in school and I had a lot of friends.”

  “Yeah. Sounds like torture.”

  Was it? Her skepticism didn’t anger him. After all, did he really have the right to complain?

  “Maybe not, but I didn’t have my parents.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I had parental surrogates. Housekeepers, nannies, tennis pros.”

  But he’d have given it all up to actually spend time with his mother and father.

  He sighed. “Look, no one wants to hear someone who had my advantages in life complain. I’d sound like a whiny prick.”

  “I asked you. I do want to hear about it.” She placed her hand against his back.

  Every molecule in his body raced to that heated spot. “Though both of my parents came from wealth, they weren’t raised to assume they were entitled to it. The money meant they wouldn’t have to limit themselves; that all of life’s resources were available to them. But they still had to be productive. They worked hard, but they also lived incredible lives. They didn’t believe being parents required that to change. So it didn’t.”

  Which wouldn’t have been a problem if they’d just included him.

  But that wasn’t part of the plan. For them, having a child completed the familial picture. It showed they’d done their duty in passing on the Van Mont name.

  “Oh Ben.” She wrapped her arm around his back and pressed her face against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  He’d been so lonely growing up. Sure, he was surrounded by kids during the day, but when the bell rang, it was home to a big empty house. Not that anyone pitied him his existence. His school friends used to tell him he was lucky not to have brothers and sisters. Who wanted to share toys and clothes or compete for their parents’ attention?

  But it wasn’t the parents-as-best-friends, birthdays-as-holidays fantasy they’d imagined. He wasn’t the special sole recipient of his parents’ time and focus. Just the single unifying cause of their reluctance to spend time together as a family.

  It was why he wanted a big family. So his children would have siblings to love, brothers and/or sisters with shared experiences of growing up together. And not just the fun ones, but the ordeals that had seemed unpleasant in the moment, but that would later provide a knowing chuckle. He wanted them to have people they could count on. Friends might come and go, but siblings would always be there. Would always have each other’s backs.

  And Ben wouldn’t put his children through what he went through. He wouldn’t leave them to be raised by others.

  “I’m not looking to emulate an old fifties-style school sitcom,” he said. “My wife and I would do it together. I want both of us to be there for our kids. To attend their plays, their recitals, their science fairs.”

  She straightened away from him, her brows high on her forehead. “All three? You must plan on having some high-achieving children.”

  He glanced at her as his brain formulated a sudden thought. Our kids would be brilliant.

  He exhaled slowly. “Yeah. But it’s not all about recognizing their accomplishments. I want us to go on family vacations, to spend time with them and get to know them as people. I want to read them stories and tuck them into bed at night.” He spread his hands wide, palms open upward. “Is that unreasonable?”

  “No, Ben, it’s not,” she said softly.

  She faced forward and they stood side by side staring out at the horizon.

  After several more minutes of silence, she said, “We should probably talk about last night. And this morning.”

  Shit. That was a conversation he’d hoped to delay for as long as possible, if not outright avoid. “Okay.”

  She licked her lips. “It was great.”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. Pink, full, glistening. Perfect. “Oh I know.”

  She bumped his shoulder. “You’re an arrogant bastard! How come I never knew that before?”

  “There’s a lot of things we didn’t know about each other before last night,” he said.

  “Like the way you enjoy watching when you’re receiving head?” she asked, sliding him a sidelong glance and lowering her voice when a man walked past.

  Oh, so that’s what we’re doing?

  “Exactly. And like the way you make this little sound in the back of your throat when you’re close to coming,” he said.

  Heat dotted her cheekbones, but she didn’t look away from him. His cock hardened, ready for round four. Being with her had surpassed any expectations he’d had. And the best part was how easy it had been, the layer of fun that had coexisted alongside the intense passion.

  Nic reached over and covered his hand with hers. “Your friendship means everything to me.”

  That statement could’ve been a mood killer. No guy wanted to hear that the woman they’d just slept with considered them a friend. But this situation was different. Everything about him and Nic was different. He knew exactly how she felt. Because he felt the same way.

  “Not wanting to ruin what we have was one of the main reasons I never pursued you,” he confessed.

  Her green eyes widened. “Hold up. You mentioned wanting me, but I never knew you considered dating me.”

  “From the moment I saw you.”

  Nic stroked her fingers over the back of his hand. “I’m kind of glad this happened now.”

  “Why?”

  “If I still have my fellowship—”

  His jaw tightened. “You will.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll be le
aving in a few weeks.”

  Extreme sadness threatened to pull him under and never let him emerge. For three years he’d seen or talked to her almost every day. He knew the day of her departure loomed, but the idea of her not being there hit him with the force of a Mack truck and left him scrambling.

  “And that makes you happy?” he asked, testily.

  “Of course not! What I’m saying is if we’d done this sooner it would’ve made things more difficult.”

  She was right. One day and the sweetness of her body had already imprinted itself on his. The taste of her saturated his tongue. The smell of her infiltrated the very air he breathed. How much harder would it have been after three months? Six months? Three years?

  He’d been naive to believe they could sleep together, he’d excise her from his system and they could go back to being friends without the crazy tension between them. Being with her hadn’t abated his desire. If anything, it had made it stronger.

  “We’ve always been straight with each other, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes. That’s one of the things I appreciate about us. No games.”

  He took a deep breath. Here we go . . . “I want you.”

  She inhaled sharply and her lips parted.

  He turned his hand over and captured her fingers. “Last night was amazing. It was the perfect combination of being with the sexiest person in the world who also happened to be my friend. I want more.”

  With a blindingly single-minded, laser-focused passion that left him shook.

  Her lashes fell and she dipped her head, concealing her thoughts. Uncertainty chilled him. Maybe she didn’t feel the same way.

  “Don’t shut me out, Nic.”

  Finally she said, “I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of this.” She looked up and the heat in her gaze seared through him, blasting away the coldness of his doubts. “Because I feel the same way. And I shouldn’t.”

  Pleasure sent him soaring, but those last three words brought him crashing back to earth. “What’s wrong with us enjoying this time together?”

  “We can’t get used to it. I’ll have to go. And being with you makes me want to stay.” Her face tightened and she shook her head. “I came here to help you with your ex because you offered to talk to your parents on my behalf.”

  He stiffened. “You linked the two, made one conditioned on the other. I didn’t. You’re my friend and I want to help you. I would’ve done it whether you came here or not. Whether we did what we did last night or not.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t even care about the Tinsley situation anymore.”

  He didn’t. The once-significant importance of convincing Tinsley of his disinterest paled in comparison to the magnitude of convincing Nic not to prematurely end their time together.

  A mission he needed to achieve.

  “Can we really do this?”

  Hope sparked to life in his chest. “We like and trust each other, and we have a good time.”

  One corner of her mouth lifted. “Last night proved how good of a time we could have.”

  “This morning, too. I do some of my best work before dawn.”

  “Good to know.” She slid her arms around his neck. “Ben, this can’t go any further than the next few weeks together.”

  Which meant it wasn’t over! Euphoria turned his insides to goo. He settled his hands on her hips and began nuzzling the soft skin of her neck. “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m serious,” she said, even as she angled her head to allow him further access. “I’m going to finish my fellowship and concentrate on my career. There’s no room for a relationship in that equation.”

  “You smell amazing.”

  She smacked his shoulder. “Ben!”

  He inhaled her delectable scent one last time before lifting his head and moving away from her. “Busy doctoring, no time for relationship. Got it.”

  “And even if there were . . . I’m not the type of woman you want long-term.”

  He swallowed and shoved clenched fists into his pockets. “That’s right.”

  Though that’s not what you were thinking last night when you were balls deep in her body.

  They were both quiet for several moments before she spoke again. “I need you to promise me something.”

  “Anything.”

  “When this is over and it’s time for me to move, promise me we’ll still be friends. That what we do here won’t come between us. I don’t want to lose you from my life.”

  It should be an easy promise to make, for all the reasons she’d just stated and everything he knew about his childhood. He wanted a big family; she’d be focused on her career.

  Just like his parents.

  Anything beyond friendship wasn’t in the cards for them. And he didn’t dare consider the possibility of not having her in his life.

  He brushed a stray curl from her cheek. “I promise.”

  He hoped like hell it was a vow he could keep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After their morning in town, they’d come home to find the house empty and a note that the others were down on the beach. Ben had made slow, amazing love to her and they’d drifted off to sleep. When she’d awakened, it was to find herself alone in bed.

  She smiled and flung herself back on the bed, limbs spread in the classic starfish pose. She’d had sex with one of her best friends and it had been incredible! Hell, she’d endure another six-month drought if it meant she’d experience another night like last night. Thankfully, she didn’t have to. They had several more days here and another week when they got home. She looked forward to making the most of their time together before she left for Durham.

  IF she left for Durham.

  No, she wouldn’t allow herself to think that way. She trusted Ben. He was going to talk to his parents on her behalf. She wouldn’t lose her fellowship. And in the meantime, they could enjoy each other’s company free from the specter of his ex.

  Fifteen minutes later she conceded that latter directive was easier said than done.

  From the secluded spot on the beach, created by the wooden walking bridge and a sandy dune covered with grass, Nic possessed the perfect vantage point to see everyone without being seen. They were the picture of health, wealth, and entitlement, with Ben, Davis, and Palmer tossing a neon green frisbee back and forth, while Bronwen lay out on a towel, sunning herself. These people didn’t have to concern themselves about the roofs over their heads or where their next meal would come from. They were free to fully enjoy themselves, a luxury that Nic silently envied.

  And speaking of envy—

  Tinsley stood near them, resplendent in a skimpy white string bikini, cheering on Ben each time he caught the frisbee. In the few minutes Nic had been watching, Tinsley called out to him twice, one time handing him a bottle of water. He wasn’t encouraging her attentions, but he wasn’t exactly telling her to stop, either.

  She knew that he never would. Because it wasn’t his personality.

  But it damn sure was hers.

  Nic left her secluded nook, the sand warm beneath her bare feet, and headed over to the group. Ben was poetry in motion, his leanly muscled body golden and glistening as he played with his friends. Shirtless and in a pair of navy blue shorts, he looked like a professional lifeguard who called the beach his second home and not a financial planner who spent many hours of the day in an office, behind a desk.

  She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey, Van Mont!”

  He caught the frisbee then turned to look at her, a smile brightening his face. Shoveling a hand through his thick breeze-tousled strands, he flicked his wrist and sent the plastic disc sailing in Palmer’s direction before jogging over to her.

  Nic’s nipples hardened against her bathing suit and a corresponding moisture bloomed between her thighs. She wanted to lick every inch of his body. From the hard line of his shoulder blade, across his well-defined pec, down the rippling ridges of his abs, and even fa
rther. Hell, she still needed more time with his cock in her mouth. Whenever she had her fist wrapped around him, ready to slob on the knob like the corn on the cob, she’d only get several minutes in before he was hauling her up his body, flipping her on her back, and slamming into her with an agonized moan.

  Not that she was complaining. That long, thick shaft was her third favorite organ on his body, behind his brain and his heart. But depending on the occasion, she reserved the right to reorganize her order of preference.

  As soon as he reached her, he slid an arm around her waist and brought her close. The smell of his heat-baked skin, the salty tinge of sweat and his own unique scent combined to make her exquisitely dizzy. A sensation that intensified when he covered her mouth with his own. His kiss was intense, wet, and ravenous; its potency filled with the promise of long, deep strokes that hit her spot over and over and had her calling out his name. She finally understood Beyoncé singing about being drunk in love; knew that as long as Ben continued twirling his tongue with hers and cupping her ass as if he couldn’t get enough, he could convince her to do whatever he wanted.

  When he raised his head, his dark eyes glittered down at her. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

  “Hey, you.” Unable to resist, she stood on tiptoe to briefly press her lips against his and get more of his laced kisses. Delicious. She brushed her palm against the scruff shadowing his jaw. “I think I’ve slept more in the past couple of days than I have in years.”

  “You needed to catch up.”

  She laughed at the common misconception. “That’s not how sleep works.”

  “Tell your body that.”

  “My body would prefer to hear it from you. And I know just the opening where you can start!”

  He growled and nuzzled her neck. She grasped his shoulders and angled her head back, allowing him full access as the sun warmed her skin. She felt carefree and wanted. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this . . . happy.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asked, brushing a curl off her cheek. “We’ve got water, Gatorade, and beer in the coolers.”

  “No thanks,” she said, her reason for calling him over finally pushing its way through the intoxicated haze he’d created. “But I’m worried about you.”