by Murphy,Misti
A thing for her? Me? I take off after him while he lays down cover, tagging Tom with a well-aimed chest shot. “Thought you couldn’t shoot straight anymore.”
“Paint ball doesn’t count.” He grunts. “But things are better. I’m getting there. So you and Maxi? She’s your girl. Admit it. You like her.”
Jesus, now that he and I aren’t pretending to hate each other’s guts and he’s all in love and shit he’s taken it upon himself to try and stick me with his fucking opinion. “None of your business, but no. She’s here to do a job, and I’m here to see the rest of this lot sign away their freedom.”
“Sure. You want to hit that. It’s written all over your fucking face.” He makes an obscene gesture involving his hand and his tongue, before fake humping the tire in front of him.
I have to laugh, especially when he takes three rounds to his back in quick succession.
“You’re such an asshole sometimes. There’s nothing going on. She’s not my girl. Now can we kick some paint ball ass?” I sprint up the wall of tires, and around behind them, taking off in the general direction of Razer and Tommy while trying to keep to cover.
Hitting that, as my brother so crudely put it, is all that this thing between Maxi and I is. I don’t even understand why I have this need to break down her walls and see her writhing in pleasure, or why the idea makes me so fucking hard that I have to adjust my stride so I can continue my flat out assault with the paint ball gun in my hand. Probably because, despite the way I play up to how people see me, my sex life is more a series of women propositioning me, and dirty moments stolen in shady dressing rooms, than about pleasure. It’s sheer release, it’s taking the edge off. But Maxi, I’m damn sure, would be something more akin to pure unadulterated bliss.
***
Hot damn, paint balls freaking hurt when they’re aimed at your nuts. There are still splatters of paint in my hair and along my face when I open the front door. We weren’t supposed to aim at each other’s faces either, but us Hadley boys were never great at sticking to the rules when it comes to brotherly warfare, and by the time Razer’s bucks party had come to its gruesome end we’d all taken far more ‘be a man shots’ than at any other time in our youth.
Grinning, I rub at the fast forming bruises on my jawline. Fuck, it had been fun though. Reminiscing and giving each other shit like we were kids again. I’d almost forgotten about how much I was looking forward to getting away from the town once the festivities are done.
Stripping out of my shirt, I make my way up the stairs. Maxi probably won’t be back yet from Claire’s bridal shower, but I want to check anyway. I have to find a way to get her to stop retreating every time she thinks she has something to be embarrassed about. A notion I’m not particularly familiar with. The button on my jeans gives way, but I leave them on. I need a shower, and she’s used to my state of undress, but this probably is a conversation that will go easier if I’m not making her feel more awkward than normal.
I knock on the door and then elbow it open. “Maxi?”
As I expected she isn’t back yet. It takes me a couple seconds to rip off my jeans as I turn to head for the shower, but the bags stacked under the bed catch my eye. The essentials Jade said she had to have. Biting the corner of my lip, I try to force that split second comprehension out of my mind, but the damage is done. It has to be lingerie, doesn’t it? Fuck, I want it to be.
If not, I might have to buy some for her myself. Her beautiful body should be embraced by expensive and sexy, it should be showcased. I can’t help imagining her in something so fine and silky that my cock thickens at the thought of my hands gripping it and tearing it off her. Shaking my head, I tell myself to close the door and walk away.
Instead, I pad across the room and pull the bags out. One little peek. At the top sits a blush colored bra. The image of diamond hard nipples encased in sheer lace makes my mouth water. I picture her pussy wrapped in something identical that the heat of her would scorch my lips through. I shift my hand through the bag until I find the tiny triangle of material. Oh fuck. Pressure builds in my balls as I bunch the fabric in my fist, a tight thick sensation that’s been developing since the first time I got a taste of her. I don’t think I can handle much more of it, the feeling a steady ache that’s almost painful.
That’s what I get for being curious. Pushing the panties back into the bag, I stow it under the bed again and stalk out of the room. I need a shower and a release. I need her to walk in that door so I can bury myself in her tight heat. No holding back, no more pussy footing around what I want when she’s made it clear she wants it too.
Storming into the bathroom, I yank on the mixer until water gushes from the square showerhead. My boxer briefs get flung into the corner, and I step under the spray, letting it tumble over me. Scraping my wet hair back, I turn my face up to the water while steam coats every glass and mirror surface.
I want something, I get it, and yet here I am hard as hell, having had her tell me she wants me to fuck her, and I’m still patiently waiting for her to come to me.
I don’t fucking get it. I. Don’t. Fucking. Get. Her. Wrapping my fist around my cock, I hiss between gritted teeth with the first stroke. The pressure is uncomfortable and unpleasant. I bow to it, one hand spread on the glass as I work my palm up and down my erection a couple times.
But I need more than the physical. My mind starts filling in details. The scent of raspberries catches in my nose, the sweet almond smell of her skin that I sometimes snag a whiff of adds a subtle depth I can almost taste. Pre-cum and water aids the glide of my hand over the rigid hardness of my cock, while my mouth remembers what she tasted like when I had my face between her legs. I swallow it down with a groan as I pump faster.
Vivid fantasy has her in front of me, stripped down to that bright pink bikini she doesn’t like to show off. My little nun. So damn innocent and shy when it comes to her body. A façade that would melt like ice to reveal a carnal side that would sear a man if he could unlock it.
I pump harder, faster, my hips flexing to push my dick through my tight grip over and over. What I wouldn’t give to have her in front of me right now, up against this shower wall. I’d take turns with having her on my fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’d lick and suck and bite on every single inch of her body while she moaned for me, screamed until I’d used her up so completely that I’d have to carry her out of here.
My erection pulses in my hand as I get close to release. The heaviness in my balls increases, the pressure surging until I feel like I might explode. I want her like I’ve never wanted another woman.
“Fuck,” I snarl as I shoot my load, jizz spurting across the glass surface of the shower screen. The release barely helps, barely makes a dint in my frustration. Snapping off the water, I yank a towel off a hook and wind it around my waist. How the hell do I fix this if she’s avoiding me? “Fuck.”
Chapter Seventeen
Maxi
Music is playing loudly as I slip in the front door. It’s so loud it blocks out any other sounds that might be happening in the house, but it doesn’t bother me. Not when it’s The Hoods’ special blend of rap and hip hop. I can’t help but bust out the lyrics as I jog upstairs to dump my bag and change into my bikini.
Rush is probably in the pool. Like being naked, he has a real affinity for water. Maybe it soothes him, I’m not sure, but I get it. I have a thing for water, too. I take the time to slip on a pair of shorts, but don’t bother with a T-shirt like I normally do. Funny how a panic attack tends to leave me feeling somewhat braver for a while after it. And seeing the video Mom sent of Sarah helped a little, too. Plunking myself down on the bed, I allow myself a few minutes to watch it again. Even in the few short weeks I’ve been gone she’s grown so much, but she’s fine without me. Better than I’d hoped for. I’m the one who’s struggling, not her.
I plug my phone in to charge and make my way to the pool. Passing through the gym, I find Rush. He’s doing chin ups on this thing. It’s like
two vertical bars with notches, and then a parallel bar that he makes jump up the notches with each chin up he does. It’s –I wipe my chin, hoping the sudden surge of saliva that comes at the way his back muscles ripple with each movement hasn’t left me drooling– something to behold. Brutally sexy.
Admiring his chiselled arms and his tight, thick shoulders, I don’t notice when he catches sight of me, not until he makes a sudden leap to the floor, twisting to face me. “What are you doing?”
“Going for a swim. I thought you were in the pool.” I can’t seem to drag my gaze from his pecs, which are bulging from his extreme workout and are covered with a slight sheen of sweat. A few veins stand out under his tattoos. I want to run my fingers over the ridges of them where they pop out on his skin.
“Right. And you thought you’d come and join me?” He folds his arms across his chest, which does precious little to make him less eye-catching.
I inhale, mulling over his words, and catch his scent. A funny little flutter starts low in my belly. A sensation I’ve come to know as his doing. No one else ever managed to set off a swarm of tingles that so accurately resemble the old adage about butterflies, purely because they smelled like he does. “Yes.”
Jaw tightening, he stares me down before turning away to start climbing those poles again. “Here I was thinking you were avoiding me because you were embarrassed about the Tylenol incident, and asking me to sleep with you.”
“I was.”
“But you’re over it now?” He pauses mid-climb, hanging there waiting for my answer.
“Yes.”
“Until next time, right? Then it’s all hiding in embarrassment and awkward conversation, except for when you’re asking questions for the article?”
“M-maybe.” I chew my lip, not sure what he’s getting at.
“I like you, Maxi. I think you’re interesting, and I’m actually having fun with you here, but…” he lets out air in a loud whoosh at the same time the song comes to an abrupt end. “You are driving me bat shit fucking insane with this whole inability to deal with uncomfortable situations.”
“If it’s any consolation, I drive myself crazy, too,” I confess. I don’t know how he does what he does. Not only can he deal with awkward situations in a way I never could, but he gets up on stage in front of massive crowds and never bats an eye at all those people watching him. “I don’t know how to fix it.”
“I don’t think you can, can you?” Finally, he releases the bar and snatches up a towel, rubbing it over his face and hair to remove excess sweat as he stalks toward me. “I mean not fully.”
I shake my head. Every damn day I have to live with this anxiousness. “I’ve seen doctors, tried medication, coping strategies. I’m not always this bad.”
“But I yanked you into a new environment without your friends and family.” He cups my elbow, his thumb rubbing my skin. “That’s making it harder?”
“Sometimes.” I shrug off the fact that at points I’ve felt so much the fish out of water it’s been crippling. Like this afternoon. How long until Chelsea or Claire fill him in on my panic attack? “But I can handle myself. I chose to take you up on your offer.”
“I can’t say that I understand.” His voice is soothing, his touch meant to be reassuring, but the tingles spreading from the slow circles he’s drawing with his thumb are distracting. “I don’t know what it’s like for you, but I see the way you lock yourself in your head, and I almost get it. It’s nearly like we are opposites.”
“How can you be so self-assured?”
“I get naked.” He smiles, but it’s this genuine relaxed happiness that comes from inside him.
“Seriously? That’s why you do it?” It doesn’t make sense to me. Shouldn’t being that exposed make him feel vulnerable?
“As often as possible.” He glances between us, pointing out the fact he’s barely clothed in a pair of gym shorts while we’re having this conversation. “I might keep quiet about parts of my life, but my body, who I am when I’m naked; that is all that I am, and I don’t particularly care what people think, because it’s my skin. I’ve learned to be incredibly comfortable in that. It grounds me when I spend so much time in front of people who have definite opinions about who I am. You cover every part of you, are so afraid to let anyone see you. Do you ever think you’re building yet another wall for insecurities to grow behind?”
“No. The two things aren’t related.” Are they? I’ve never thought of it like that. “I’m not one of those girls who needs to have her body on display for men to ogle.”
“Believe me, men will eye-fuck you whether your assets are on display or not. They don’t care. It’s called fantasizing, sweet cheeks. What you do, barely even able to jump in the pool with me without being covered up, or trying to hide under the water, is not the same thing.”
Gaping at him, I rub my hands up my arms at his cutting answer, and remember that I forewent covering up completely, my self-consciousness somewhat forgotten while we were having this conversation. “Do you do that? Are you fantasizing about me?”
I don’t mean it to come out like that. I’m not trying to ask him if he imagines me naked because I want to know that he does, but once the words are out there, hanging between us like thick pillowy clouds, I can’t think of it any other way.
By the sultry way he runs his gaze over me, his lip curling slightly on one side as he does, he can’t either. “Yeah. I fucking... yeah.”
My curiosity perks up. Almost jumps up and begs to know what he was going to say. Yeah, he fantasizes about me doing what, exactly? The all too familiar warmth of embarrassment starts in my chest, and lower another kind of heat catches my bikini bottoms on fire while a vivid image of him stroking himself to whatever imaginative thinking he does about me floods my mind. “I-I guess you’ve seen enough of me to be able to do that.”
“As I said, water isn’t exactly your friend. I don’t think you realize how easy it is to visualize the parts of you I haven’t seen from the way your bikini clings to you.” Smoothing his hand up the inside of my arm from my elbow to the curve of my breast, he touches the pad of his thumb to one nipple. “Even now, when you’re enjoying the idea of my mind on you, your body is giving me glimpses of what you’re hiding.”
“Well I may as well get naked then.” I chuckle. I don’t mean it. It’s a bad joke, that’s all. Sometimes I should really keep my mouth shut. “Since you’ve already imagined everything about me.”
A quick flicker of a frown crosses his face, then seriousness. Grasping my hand, he heads for the pool. “Come on.”
He’s not one for leaving a girl with the chance to change her mind. Pulling me through the glass doors into the room that houses the pool, he snatches up a couple towels from a cupboard and leads me toward the deeper end.
“What are you thinking, Rush?” I tuck my hands under my arms when he lets go and drops the towels onto a deck chair. With a swift fluid motion, he drops his gym shorts to the floor.
Shifting from foot to foot I gaze warily at the water while he stalks to the edge and dives in without answering me.
When he comes up he pushes the hair out of his face. “You keep getting embarrassed and all awkward by the things that happen between us. I don’t know if we can change that, but maybe now that you know I’ve imagined you naked and liked what I saw, if you actually get naked—”
“No,” I squeak, mortified. “I’ll be even more self-conscious.”
“Yes, you will,” he says, but there’s no malice, simply understanding. “But maybe it will be like the worst of it is out of the way. I’ll have seen you, beautiful girl. All of you, just as you are, and maybe you’ll realize you don’t have to be awkward with me. I won’t judge you.”
“I don’t think it will help.” I slip closer to the pool, still uncertain.
“Maybe it won’t.” He exhales. “But we can work through your discomfit instead of you hiding away. And after that, well, there isn’t much more that can be as uncomfort
able as getting naked with a stranger, is there?”
I’m not sure his reasoning is sound, especially since we’re not exactly strangers at this point, but maybe it would be worth trying anyway. Undoing the buttons on my shorts, my hands shake and my heart starts pounding. I can feel the familiar buzz of nerves as I agree. “Okay. But maybe you can turn around.”
“Sure.” He cocks his head to one side as my shorts fall to the tiled floor. “But why don’t you leave your bikini on and get in the pool first?”
“You’re contradicting yourself.” I suck in a breath, relieved by the reprieve but only minutely. In some ways the delay only means I have more time to think about what I’m doing, about his reaction when I finally do get naked. Am I really going to do this? I can’t believe I’m going to do this.
Sitting down on the lip of the pool, I slip into the water. It’s deep enough to come up to my chin, but I can touch the bottom with ease as I walk to where he stands in the middle. “Well, here I am.”
“Yes, here you are.” He bends his knees, so that we look like two heads floating on water. Cupping my shoulder, he tells me, “I’m going to tell you what I can see.”
I swallow hard and nod. I’m not naked, I’m not undressed, so why does this feel so freaking intimate? “Okay.”
“Smooth tanned shoulders, a collarbone that goes into a little dip at the base of your throat, tan lines from those tank tops you like to wear, a tattoo that hints at your girly side, but also, what? It’s some kind of yin and yang, so balance?” He lists them off, somewhat matter of fact, but his hands find each spot as he mentions them and there’s a lowness to his voice that makes each word sensual. “A flawless creamy inch of skin above the line of your bikini top.” He traces the line with his fingertips. “The curve of your breast, enough to fill my palms or my mouth.”
My pulse spins out of control as he gently places his palms over them, squeezing so lightly it’s almost unnoticeable except for the slight pressure of his fingers. I can’t help but stare down at the way he’s touching me, a shiver rolling through my belly. Exhaling, I don’t know where my nervousness ends and the sweeter sensation from what he’s doing begins.
