Laguna Beach: That Gold in Laguna (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Charisma Series Novella, The Ericksons Book 2)

by Heather Hiestand

  He surveyed the olives, vegetables, and Italian meats. "What? You think I can't afford to buy you dinner?"

  Her lips rounded and her eyebrows went up. "No, that's not it. I was just trying to take care of you. You’ve had a long, frustrating day."

  He sat next to her, deliberately choosing to invade her personal space. "I'm at Justin's place for convenience. I'm paying rent. I'm not always even in town."

  "I get that. You're starring on a TV show. I get that you aren't broke, Thor."

  “Why do we always end up talking about money?” he asked.

  Her lips pressed together. He recognized the frustration and spoke again. "I wouldn't have even tried another date if I could just get you out of my head, but I can't."

  Her face relaxed. "I can't stop thinking about you either."

  He propped his arm against the back of the sofa. His fingers were only inches away from that luscious fall of thick brown hair. "So now what?"

  She used her foot to push the antipasto tray out of arms’ reach. "Take me to bed."

  "What?" He stared at the tight points of her nipples, poking through thin fabric. Where had they come from? Had he caused that somehow? He stared down at his T-shirt and shorts? Had he found the magic seduction combo?

  She nodded, her expression serene. "Sure. It's our second date. We've known each other for a couple of months. It's fine. I'm clean. You're clean?"

  His higher brain function had just about shut down. "Yes, yes, of course," he answered, almost stuttering.

  "So let's do this."

  He pointed at the sofa. "Right here? In your father’s cabana?"

  She stood. “I got rid of the cast and crew like you suggested.”

  “What about your family?”

  “This is a separate building.” She walked over to the door, which was open a couple of inches, and pushed it shut, turned the lock. "I dare you to have sex with me."

  His breath expelled with a hitch. "I haven’t seen this part of you before. Daredevil girl."

  Chapter Six

  Late afternoon light danced around dust motes by the cabana curtains that sheltered them from view, but didn’t dim the room enough to hide Rachel’s smile. “It’s about time we get each other out of our systems, Thor, don’t you think?”

  He thought back to his conversation with Crowe. His brother had thought the same thing. But he had the uneasy feeling that once with this woman would never be enough. “I asked you to make nice with my friends, not me.”

  She spread out her hands. “Notice that they did leave when I asked. You said the Craft sisters never leave us alone, but Jenny left with Crowe.”

  “I didn’t see any sniping today,” he reflected.

  “Nope. Maybe I have to make my peace with Delilah still, but Jenny and I got along today. I did try.”

  “Okay. Yeah.” He reached forward and picked up an olive from the tray. It still had drops of brine on it. He licked off the moisture, conscious of Rachel’s eyes on his tongue. Yeah, she was into him. That half-erection that had been tormenting him the last half hour snapped into a full salute under his shorts. And he’d gone commando, so nothing was containing him.

  As he pushed the olive between his teeth, her gaze went to his shorts. Beautiful brown eyes went wide when she saw the tent.

  “Is that for me?” she asked in a voice that had gone husky.

  “No one else in the room,” he said. “You turn me on. I’m not gonna lie. I’ll be honest, I don’t live here normally, and I don’t know what’s going to happen after this, but—”

  “I’m not asking for anything but another date, Thor. You still owe me dinner after this.” Her gaze lifted and she met his eyes.

  Still staring at her, he saw her shoulder move. Her fingers came back to her mouth, holding an olive of her own. While he watched, she licked off the brine and then bit the olive in half, a firm cut with her white, even teeth.

  She had a wide mouth, the kind of mouth that looked like it could manage the beast that wanted to explode from his shorts. But he didn’t want to ask for a blow job. He wanted the full experience. “What do you have on under that dress?”

  In response, she stood, still chewing, and slowly rucked the fabric up over her legs. She tanned, or spray tanned. The smooth coppery tone of her skin stayed consistent. He didn’t see any sign of a color change, and her panties were tiny, lacy, and soft pink.

  He tucked a finger under one side of them and pulled them down. “Nope, no tan line.”

  “I apply my own tanner,” she said.

  He tugged down the other side, then turned her around, to inspect her high, rounded bottom. “You do good work.” He bent forward and nibbled her hip. When he heard her gasp, he pulled her panties down. She stepped out of them and he flung them away.

  “Spread your legs,” he ordered.

  She complied. He ran his hands up her smooth inner thighs. The muscles of her left leg twitched as he did it. When he reached the softness of her lips they were wet, and so hot. “Waxed,” he said on a groan. “You wax everything.”

  “I like the feeling.”

  He dipped his finger just inside, then kissed the base of her spine. She tilted her hips and his finger went in a little more.

  “You really do want me.” He slid his fingers up until he found the hood covering her clit and pinched gently. She gasped. Her hands went back, found his shoulders.

  He stood abruptly and turned her. “I want your mouth.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He bent his head, feeling huge and masculine as he pulled her narrow, slender body against his. His hand found her inner recesses again and this time he boldly slid two fingers in. She was so ready for him, eagerly canting her hips, taking them deeper.

  He tried to pull her dress over her head with one hand but she had to help him. Then she pushed at his shorts. He had to take his fingers from her to help, but then she locked one leg around his thigh. Falling backward, he landed on the sofa with her on top of him. Breasts pressed against his shoulder and he levered her up, opening his mouth over one pouting, turgid nipple.

  “I need a minute,” she said. “The condoms are in the bathroom.”

  “Right, condoms. Have to have condoms,” he agreed.

  Rachel was excited to hear him panting. He really was turned on by her. She pulled away gently. Her nipple popped from his mouth, the friction sending licks of heat directly into her clit. Legs wobbled alarmingly as she trotted into the bathroom and opened the vanity. She grabbed the entire three-pack of condoms and returned to him.

  Thor stood as she walked in, slowly lifting his T-shirt. As the white cotton went up, impressive abs were displayed. She’d seen his six-pack before, when he was hard at work tearing out the tiles, but she’d never had the chance to simply stare at him. This show was all for her. He pulled his shirt over his head. Some of his sun-streaked locks stood on end from the static, making him look utterly wild and delectable.

  She tried to speak but her mouth had gone completely dry. Did she look like a fish out of water? She reached for a mini water bottle and drained it.

  “Shorts,” she whispered.

  He put his hands to his waistband, undid some complicated number of hooks, then slid them down his narrow hips and his extremely generous, muscled ass. The fabric hid then unveiled his thick thighs, finally dropping to his feet. He stepped out of them.

  She glanced down. “Your feet are a mess.” They were covered with nicks.

  “Never garden barefoot,” he said. “We spent the weekend redoing Justin’s yard.”

  But her attention had already moved to what she’d drifted past in her earlier perusal. His erection. Despite the water, her mouth went dry again. How did a body part that looked so silly just dangling about command so much attention when it was in this state? It jutted toward her, demanding that she give it its due.

  She went to her knees in front of him and took him in one hand. Her tongue went to the tip, then she slid her mouth down his
length, as much as she could take, at least. He groaned and folded onto the sofa behind them, as if she’d knocked the wind out of him.

  “Rachel,” he muttered. “You don’t have to do that.”

  She slid back until only the tip was against her lips, then reached underneath and palmed the tight sacs underneath his erection. He grunted and went completely still when she squeezed.

  “You don’t want me to last long, do you,” he muttered.

  She froze, too. Not what she wanted. “Has it been a while?” she asked, releasing him from her mouth. She grabbed the box of condoms and slid a sheath over him.

  “Been busy.” His eyes opened as she climbed on top of him. “You want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head. “I just want you inside me.”

  He grinned. “That’s what I like to hear. This position good for you?”

  She nodded. He was poised at her entrance and she was so wet, so wanting. When he put his hands on her hips, she tilted and pressed against him. He slid in smoothly and she went down, not just finding her way around him, taking that thick, slick heat into herself, but down into his gaze. Nothing but him existed, the way he canted his hips, the way she couldn’t help but clutch him inside her as he moved, dragging friction across her clit, making her gasp.

  Her eyes closed and her head dropped against his shoulder after a minute. It felt so good; she couldn’t take it anymore. But his hand went into her hair, tugging it, pulling her head back.

  “No,” he whispered. “Look at me, Rachel.”

  His need was as naked as hers. Both of them had their lips parted, breathing hard. She put her hands on his shoulders and gripped hard.

  “Why does it feel like love?” she asked. “I never did this without being in love before.”

  He shook his head. She could tell by his movements that he was close. Her head dropped back. He didn’t stop her when she closed her eyes and rode out the sensations, feeling the crest of her orgasm as he clutched her hard around her hips and shuddered against her, pumping roughly.

  Some minutes later, after she’d pulled away, he’d taken care of the condom, she’d found a blanket, they lounged against the sofa arm.

  “Sorry,” she said, rubbing her cheek against his chest.

  “Nothing that you say during sex counts,” he said. “That’s the rule.”

  “So it really doesn’t bother you that I practically said I loved you?”

  “All it means is that you love sex, and we were having good sex.”

  “Yeah,” she said. All she’d really done was break her dry spell after Lennon. If she told Lennon what she’d done that he’d let her go for once and for all. He had something of a virgin-whore complex and this would put her in the whore category for once and for all.

  For herself, she had no regrets, not about the sex. Her body felt liquid, more relaxed than she’d been for weeks. This might not have been the start of anything, but it was the end of Lennon, and her father’s influence over her love life.

  He sat up, lifting his arm from where it had rested across her shoulders. “Somehow your panties ended up in the food,” he reported.

  She blinked and sat up. “Yep. They probably smell like salami now.”

  “Do you have another change of clothes? We should go somewhere and eat.”

  “I can put a bathing suit on. Do you still want to go?”

  “Of course. This was a date, right? Our second date.”

  “You asked me,” she agreed.

  “Okay. Do you want to jump in the shower first, or should I?”

  “Together?” she asked.

  “No, it’s tiny.”

  “Not that tiny.” She put a hand to his chest. “But, you are a big guy.”

  He grinned. “You like it.”

  She winked. “I like the big part.” She let her hips swing as she walked into the bathroom, trying to look calm and sexy, even though her pulse pounded with an on again/never again rhythm.

  The next night felt like a letdown after the fantastic sex and relaxed conversation she’d had with Thor over dinner. They’d never gotten along so well. The sex had mellowed both of them and soothed the prickles. They’d taken separate cars so dinner had been the end of the evening, but that seemed best. No point in pushing it.

  The TV team hadn’t been at the house that day and she’d spent much of the day taking down a watercolor collection that her mother had bought long ago and hung on the main floor. To replace them, she installed a series of black and white photographs that Sadiki had picked up in London. Then she had to box up the watercolors and take them to the storage room. Since she knew her father was seriously considering selling the house, any activity along these lines felt like a waste of time. She should probably spend her time going through the house, noting walls that needed repainting and such. At the end of the summer, she and her father would have to have a serious talk.

  When she went home, she was too hot to eat. Even a salad sounded unappetizing. She took her laptop onto her tiny patio and found her resume. If the house was going to be sold, this was a good time to go job hunting. What would she do otherwise? Spend her time cataloguing the art in storage units, or even worse, supervising its sale? Or shipment to Kenya? Had her father even considered what she was going to do? He just wanted to keep her under his thumb until the last minute, when he had no further use for her.

  The doorbell rang just as she’d sent her resume to ten people on her contacts list, former classmates and people she’d met at galleries with good personal networks. Who was stopping by without calling first?

  She didn’t dare hope it was Thor. He’d chosen the restaurant the night before, an intimate little spot with dark wood and low lighting, but it seemed like half the diners knew her or her father and so many people had table-hopped over to them that she’d felt like she worked in Hollywood. They had gotten along beautifully, but by the end of dinner her blissfully relaxed state had turned into a headache and she was glad for the separate cars.

  Not that he’d really given her a chance. She knew she could have done better. She could have wrapped her hand around his arm, tugged him up to her car, invited him in. But in the back of her head, she heard herself say “love.” She’d said the word and it made her nervous.

  After she closed her laptop lid and set her computer on the kitchen table, she went to the door.

  “Brandon,” she said as she spotted her cousin, feeling deflated even though she hadn’t really had her hopes up.

  Her cousin lived in the same complex. His father, in fact, had helped develop the complex and had bought Brandon his unit and sold her father hers at a discount. Sometimes she got along with her cousin fine, but as she looked at the twin lines in between his heavy brown brows, she knew this wasn’t going to be one of those nights.

  He brushed past her and entered before she had a moment to offer. Oddly enough, he seemed smaller than usual, maybe because she’d been with Thor and he was so tall, maybe a full ten inches taller than her cousin.

  “Why haven’t I been included?” Brandon snarled. He stalked into the kitchen and pulled open her refrigerator door, letting it slam against the wall. The glass bottles of salad dressings and sauces rattled in their plastic shelves. He pulled out a bottle of Guinness and shut the door almost as roughly, then opened it with the bottle opener on a magnet on the outside of the door.

  “Included in what? I’ve been installing photographs all day.”

  “The treasure hunt,” he moaned, then took a gulp of his beer and burped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “It’s not my show,” she said. “I have nothing to do with it.”

  “Oh, please,” he sneered. “You’ve been sucking up to the Ericksons to get on the show. You probably have as much camera time as those Craft sisters.”

  “I did the house and property tour like I was asked. Dad didn’t want to do it, nor did Sadiki.”

  “Bet you'd love a show of your own.” Brandon went into a falset
to. “Rachel’s Show about Stupid Art. Join Rich Rachel as she prances through the art galleries of the world.”

  “I think some nun did that about a million years ago,” Rachel said. “Why are you whining at me? This is Dad’s deal.” Of course, she knew Brandon would never confront her father. He was a bully who tried to pick at the weak, but she didn’t have anything to offer him.

  Just then, her doorbell rang again. Who was it this time? She only had one close friend in the complex, and Meghan was having dinner with her husband at this time of night.

  When she went to the door, she found Thor, holding a bouquet of enormous sunflowers. She laughed with delight. “How beautiful!”

  He handed her the butcher paper-wrapped selection. “I hope you have a really big vase.”

  “I can find something. How sweet of you.”

  “Is your headache better?” he asked.

  “It was, but then a new one arrived.”

  He lowered his voice. “Who?”

  “Brandon’s on the warpath. He’s in the kitchen.”

  Thor grunted. “No offense, but he’s a maggot.”

  “He needs to grow up. He’s only twenty-two and he just graduated college. Without a job,” she added.

  “Poor trust fund baby. If you can’t get a job you make one.” He straightened his T-shirt. Unlike his usual plain white style, this one had a California Gold logo etched in gold and circled in black over a baby blue-colored shirt. They must have just had them made. She wanted it.

  “I don’t think he has the entrepreneurial spirit,” she said, as Thor walked in and shut the door behind him. Wishing she didn’t have to, she returned to the kitchen and set the flowers down next to the sink.

  The corner of Brandon’s mouth tilted up as he saw the flowers, then he did a double take as his gaze rose to Thor.

  “What’s an Erickson doing here?” he demanded.