Undressed

by Kimberly Derting

  I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t decide if this was funny or not. I’d come here to be objectified, and now I was getting a lecture on patience.

  I wished I’d worn my stupid one-piece so he’d just look at me already. “I just . . . ” I just . . . didn’t know what I just. I was confused. This . . . swimming . . . trying to make Will notice me . . . coming to California in the first place . . . maybe I’d been expecting too much.

  I felt the water swell around me, and then he said my name again, “Lauren.” Only this time, the way he said it made me realize I should never take up acting—I was terrible at hiding my feelings. His thumb was on my cheek, brushing away a tear I didn’t even realize was there. I shivered beneath his touch. “It’s okay.” His low, reassuring voice scraped my nerves. “You’ll be able to swim in no time. Especially if you do the things I show you. You might not be ready for the Olympics or anything, but you’ll definitely be swimming on your own.”

  He was so close I could feel his breath against my face, and something about the way his palm cupped my jaw made me feel treasured. My heart thundered inside my chest as my eyes locked onto his.

  I told myself to look away. Maybe I had miscalculated. Maybe Will was the wrong kind of guy to be playing games like this with. But before common sense could win out, his lips were there, possessing mine, and I forgot everything that was at stake.

  I didn’t resist. I didn’t want to. My mouth parted willingly and I was inviting his tongue inside. A medley of sensations assaulted me, churning my insides and upending the world as I knew it.

  It wasn’t the way I’d imagined our first kiss would be—and I had imagined it, several times since that first night, when he’d done a body shot off me. I’d pictured him being gentle or playful, but nothing like the way he was devouring me, consuming me. Trying to possess me.

  He released my face as his hands moved impatiently around my waist so he could pull me closer. His hips ground into mine, and I could feel how hard he was beneath the flimsy fabric that separated us.

  I should’ve been shocked—I liked a good make-out session as much as the next girl, but this was always the point when I’d made other guys stop. Sure, I was daring in front of a webcam. But in person, I was the girl no man had managed to conquer.

  But here . . . now . . . with Will . . . none of that mattered. The old me was erased.

  I was just as restless as he was. I squirmed as impatiently as he did, testing the feel of his erection beneath the thin layers of our swimsuits. I squeezed my eyes against the sensations that exploded whenever I moved against him, gripping the rippling muscles of his shoulders, using him as leverage, bracing myself. All the while, I let his tongue explore mine . . . let him make my head and my body reel.

  One of his hands found the front of my swimsuit top and I released a small whimper. His fingers cupped and stroked and fanned the flames licking through me, until I was writhing for him. When his hand disappeared beneath the fabric his touch scorched me, and again, this was when I would have stopped anyone else.

  Instead, I rocked my hips forward again, steeling myself for the wave of pleasure it released. His thumb flicked over the tip of my nipple, which had already hardened to a hard nub. Finally . . . finally, I buried my hands in his hair. He groaned my name and dragged his mouth away from my tender lips. I gasped, needing his lips on me again.

  He lowered his head, peeling the Lycra triangle all the way back and, just like that first night at The Dunes when I’d been up on the bar, his tongue darted over my sensitive skin, exploring me in a way no one ever had before.

  “Will . . . ,” I half-moaned, half-whimpered. My fingers tangled deeper into his damp hair. I could have been telling him to stop or begging him for more. I’d never been more conflicted.

  But he seemed to know, and his mouth closed around the hardened bud, suckling and nipping it, his tongue finding just the right places to drive me out of my mind.

  Suddenly there was no reason not to do this. I couldn’t imagine why I’d ever denied myself before. I had no intention of stopping now. This—what Will was doing to me—was the most exquisite kind of frustration.

  “Will,” I breathed again, and this time there was nothing conflicted about it. I reached down, my hand plunging beneath the water as I fumbled for the waistband of his trunks, searching for him.

  My fingers tangled into his coarse hairs as they slipped inside his shorts, and when I found him, the smooth skin of his rock-hard cock, I gasped again. I didn’t have to be experienced to know that I was doing this right. The proof was right in my palm.

  I had done this to him. I had made him this way.

  I closed my fingers around him, power and need coursing through me like a fever. Will moved in my hand at the same time I stroked him, his hips pumping forward against my touch.

  “Jesus, Lauren. You’re so fucking incredible. Jesus . . .” He released my nipple then, as his hands reached around my ass and he hoisted me up. I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me through the water until my back rested against the side of the pool.

  He tugged the front of my bottoms down, his hand finding its way between my legs. He parted my folds expertly, and the second his finger slid inside me, a fire ignited. This was it. This was what I’d been waiting for. What I wanted.

  Now. Here.

  “Yes,” I whispered raggedly, my fingers digging into to his powerful shoulders. I squeezed my eyes shut against the sensations mounting inside me.

  Will’s arms tightened, his entire body going rigid as he stopped moving. His finger slipped out of me even though his hand stayed poised where it was, covering my pussy. “Fuck.” His breath was hot against my cheek. “Jesus Christ, Lauren.”

  There was an ache in his voice, and I frowned. “What—” I started quietly, but he cut me off.

  He was still holding me against the edge of the pool. And he was still so incredibly hard that I very nearly begged—begged—him to keep going.

  So when the next words fell from his lips, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to slap him or bite my own lip to keep from crying. “We can’t do this. What were we thinking? What was I thinking?”

  He let go of me and I dropped like a piece of lead, back to the floor of the pool. It took me a second to get my balance. My lips were swollen, and I could still feel his heart hammering against my ribs.

  “We can’t do this,” he repeated, his voice hoarse as his chin fell to the top of my head.

  My brain whirled, silently repeating one word as I suddenly wished I had my towel back: rejected.

  I shoved my way through the water toward the steps. “Don’t worry,” I managed, not bothering to look back at him. “It won’t happen again.”

  I stayed in the locker room for as long as I could, standing under the lukewarm shower and trying to wash away the memory of his hands on my skin.

  When I finally made my way to the parking lot, I found a note stuffed beneath my windshield wiper. The handwriting was scribbled, but I assumed it was Will’s, since he was the only person I knew around here. Also, the only person who would have written the cryptic message that made me want to die of humiliation: Pay you back by the end of the week. Sorry.

  Great. He was sorry. I guess that was supposed to make everything better.

  I slumped onto the driver’s seat, crumpling the slip of paper and letting it fall to the floor.

  I guess I’d just been fired as a student. Again.

  WILL

  I didn’t go home just yet. I didn’t want Tess to see me like this, all keyed up. Sometimes she was too smart for her own good—she’d know within seconds something was up. She deserved better than a piece-of-shit brother like me, especially since she was counting on me. Trusted me.

  And since I wasn’t ready to give her up to that fucker Cam, she was stuck with me.

  I hovered over my drink, hating myself, and hating Lauren for making me feel like such an asshole. I could still taste her, which made my brain buzz and my skin tingle.
I could feel her too. All over me, soft and pliable and willing—so fucking willing. And, even now, while I hated the both of us, the memory of touching her, of my teeth grazing her nipple, was making me hard all over again.

  I stopped staring at my drink and threw it back in one shot. The whiskey burned going down, but I needed something to wash her away. I slammed the glass against the bar and gave the bartender—a skinny guy with snakebite piercings and long blond dreads—a one more round nod.

  Wordlessly, he refilled my glass because he got it: I was in a bad fucking place.

  “Hey,” a raspy voice interrupted from over my shoulder. “Aren’t you that one guy? Billy Galbadorn or something like that?”

  Swiveling lopsidedly on my stool, I bit back the caustic remark that rose involuntarily to my lips. I would have told her to fuck off, but I was drunk and she was hot . . . in a daddy-issues kind of way.

  I propped an elbow against the bar and grinned at her. “Close enough. What’s your name, beautiful?”

  Her smile was downright wicked, and suddenly the fact I was still hard might not be such a bad thing. “Does it make a difference?” she answered. She lifted a finger to one black leather strap of her skimpy top and let it trace a path all the way down to the exposed valley between her tits.

  I knew then that the whiskey had never been the answer at all. Maybe this girl, or one like her—someone I felt nothing for—was exactly what I needed to take the edge off before heading home.

  I snaked my hand out to her waist and captured her, hauling her between my knees until I had her right where I wanted her, firmly entrenched between my thighs. “Only if it makes a difference to you,” I growled.

  Again, that wicked smile was my answer, and without any more small talk, I claimed her cherry red lips, which were not quite as sweet and supple as Lauren’s had been, but more than willing.

  I reached down, not caring that there was no question we were making a scene now, and I stroked those long legs of hers, squeezing just beneath her too-short skirt where her lace panties made an appearance. I told myself I didn’t care that she wasn’t Lauren either. In fact, I preferred her this way—the exact opposite of Lauren.

  This girl would make things better. Easier.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered roughly against her ear, when I finally stopped kissing her long enough to pay my tab.

  She didn’t argue. And she didn’t care that I never remembered her name, not even after she had to tell it to me for the third time.

  I stumbled out of the motel room sometime after midnight, leaving her half-dressed and wholly unsatisfied because, for the second time that night, and for a totally different reason, I couldn’t go through with it.

  LAUREN

  “Drop the spoon and back away from the Häagen-Dazs.”

  I licked what was left of the double chocolate chunk from the spoon clutched in my hand.

  “I’m serious, Lo. Ice cream for breakfast can only mean one thing.” Emerson raised a pointed eyebrow at me while she waited for my defense.

  But I didn’t have one. It was exactly what Em had been warning me about for years: Guys were dogs.

  And it wasn’t like I hadn’t believed her, but I guess I’d always held out hope, too—that somewhere out there was the exception to the rule. You know, that one perfect guy who would prove her wrong—prove me wrong—by sweeping me off my feet and showing everyone he was different. Special.

  What on earth had made me think Will might be that guy?

  Clearly, I’d been smoking crack, because he’d turned out to be just as bad as the rest of them. Worse even.

  I can’t believe I almost . . .

  I stopped myself. It wasn’t like anything had actually happened between us. I hadn’t almost let him do anything.

  I’d made a simple mistake and I needed to stop beating myself up over it. Everyone was entitled to a lapse in judgment now and then. End of story.

  So what was wrong with me, then, that I hadn’t stopped thinking about Will for the entire time I’d been cloistered inside my not-so-beachside bungalow? Why couldn’t I get him off my mind? Why, whenever I drifted off to sleep, did I dream of him, and whenever the pizza guy knocked on the door did I foolishly hope that maybe, this time, it might be—please let it be—Will, coming, not to drop off the money he’d promised to pay me back, but to beg my forgiveness?

  Because the jerk was drop-dead gorgeous, that’s why. And because I’d let him touch my lady parts and light a fire no one else had ever lit before. Because I was stupid, just like all those guys who’d sat on the other side of their computer screens, dropping just a few more bucks to get a peek at my boobs or to watch me touch myself. Because I’d made the mistake of letting my guard down.

  Because I was human, that’s why.

  Ugh!

  I put the cover back on the carton and tossed the spoon in the sink. “There—happy?” I asked.

  “Not till you get your ass dressed, and maybe run a comb through that rat’s nest of yours. You dragged me all the way to California, and now I’m takin’ you to the beach.”

  I sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”

  But Em was right again, just like she had been about the whole guys are dogs thing. The beach would be good. I’d been inside the house for the past three days, living on nothing but ice cream and pizza delivery. Given half a chance, my best friend was actually prone to moments of brilliance.

  I was done with all this feeling-sorry-for-myself crap. Will could go screw himself as far as I was concerned. I didn’t move here to get my panties in a wad over some guy; I came to prove that I was capable of living my own life. That my dreams were just as important as my parents’ dreams.

  Except, I had no idea what those dreams were anymore.

  Even before Will had up and quit on me, I’d been having doubts about myself.

  Swimming wasn’t just scary, it was hard. And from day one it had been obvious I wasn’t exactly a natural. So what did that mean? Had I made a terrible mistake moving here in the first place?

  Emerson had only come because of me, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love it here.

  So maybe swimming wasn’t my thing. Big deal. I never thought I’d say this, but maybe I needed to be more like Em and look on the bright side of things—I was in California, after all. Maybe I could find something else to make me want to stay.

  I brushed my teeth, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and slipped into my bikini—the Lola Bang one, because even though Will didn’t want to see me in it, that didn’t mean it wasn’t completely killer on me.

  When I came back out, Em was grinning at me. “There’s the girl I know and love.” She hooked her arm through mine. “Now, let’s go get you laid.”

  “Or . . .” I offered as an alternative, because maybe our goals didn’t exactly align, but at least she was still looking out for me, “how ’bout we start small and work on our tans.”

  “How is it possible that my best friend in the whole wide world is gonna die a virgin?” She led me outside. “You’re going to end up like my aunt—the crazy cat lady who posts cat pictures and cat memes on her Facebook page.”

  “Nope. I’m allergic.”

  She shrugged. “Still. You know what they say, if you don’t use it, you lose it.”

  Already, I was feeling better. I cocked my head to the side, letting it fall against Em’s shoulder. “Nope. Not a real thing.”

  “Pretty sure it is. It just . . . dries up. Shrivels into a black hole or something.”

  I gave her a you’re crazy look. “If it shrivels up, how can it still be a hole?”

  She just rolled her eyes. “Science, dummy. And trust me, you do not want to mess with science.”

  When we reached the end of the road, our toes sank into the already hot sand. We stopped to stare at each other.

  “I love you,” I told her.

  “I know,” she said back. And then we took off racing toward the water like little girls until my legs ached a
nd we both collapsed on our backs and made sand angels. Emerson told me all about Lucas and everything they’d done—which was pretty much everything.

  Suddenly, it didn’t matter why I was here, because I was here with Emerson. And we had the entire summer until she had to leave me and I needed to decide what I would do next.

  LAUREN

  I didn’t even realize I’d dozed off until I heard Emerson’s ear-piercing squeals. When I turned my head, I saw Lucas wrapping his arms around her as he hauled her down in the sand. Em was giggling, even while she pretended to fend him off.

  “Holy crap!” I shot up diving for my cell phone to figure out how long I’d been out. It had only been about forty-five minutes, but my head felt fuzzy from the heat.

  Lucas got to his feet and flung Emerson over his shoulder like she weighed less than nothing. She squealed louder and protested harder, but she wasn’t fooling anyone—she was exactly where she wanted to be.

  “We’re going for a dip!” she shouted to me as Lucas started jogging toward the shore.

  I waved her away while I reached for my sunscreen. The last thing I needed was a blistering sunburn.

  “Need some help with that?”

  I tossed my head around to see Zane on the other side of me, kneeling in the sand beside two surfboards that I assumed were his and Lucas’s. I must’ve done a shitty job hiding my surprise, because Zane’s hands went up in surrender.

  “Don’t worry,” he explained. “I promise to be on my best behavior.” His brow fell and his expression turned solemn. “I’m really sorry about the other night. I don’t know what got into me.”

  It wasn’t the first time I’d heard one of these apologies, and it wouldn’t be the first time I’d accepted one. I shook my head. “Seemed pretty obvious to me. You had a little too much to drink.” I flipped open the cap of my sunscreen, ignoring his offer to help.

  “Look, I get it. I came on too strong. But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea; I’m not always like that.”