Tossing It

by Rachel Robinson

  My friends will do small gestures here and there. It’s not like my life is completely devoid of kindness, but Leif has gone above and beyond. I try to explain to him the difference between a friend favor and a family favor, which is what he’s done for me. He tells me he understands, but he’s rubbing my leg up and down.

  I watch his hand intently, and abruptly stand and step away from him. “It’s probably time I get home. You have to be up early and I have to quit the store tomorrow, or at least give my two weeks’ notice I guess.”

  Leif stands. “I have a crazy idea.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Spend the night with me?”

  I swallow hard. “Is it the sex? You want me for sex. That’s it.” I try to keep a straight face. “You’ve had a taste and now that’s all that it’s going to be about between us.”

  “I won’t fuck you tonight even if you beg me,” he replies, shaking his head. When he bites his lip, my panties soak all the way through. We didn’t get enough of each other earlier. It’s a fact we’re both aware of. The glances are steamy, our bodies find a way to touch each other without our permission. All of the signs of dangerous chemistry ignite the oxygen surrounding us. “We can stay up late and talk. Like a chick sleepover. I know how those work. My sisters were good for some things.”

  That gets me. I laugh, holding my stomach as I bend over in hysterics. When he doesn’t laugh, I meet his gaze, mystified. “You’re serious? You want to have an actual sleepover? Like, fuzzy slippers and popcorn?”

  Leif lays a hand on his chest. “I am serious. Will you have a sleepover with me?”

  I tap my chin, considering. “There will be rules.”

  He raises one brow. “Yes. I like where your head is at.”

  “Rule one.” I clear my throat, making it more official. “Naked sleepover. No one wears clothes.”

  Leif’s eyes go dark—feral. He nods once. My legs turn to jelly in response.

  “Rule two. No sex. Or foreplay of any kind. It has to be a true chick sleepover.”

  Another manly lip bite. My stomach quivers. I’m sealing my own fate with these rules. I want to prove I’m able to set some framework of rules like he tried to do. “Kissing is okay. Just kissing,” I amend, watching his freaking delicious lips as he licks them. “Rule three,” I say, my voice trembling. His eyes on mine, he tips his chin up. “You can’t fall in love with me tonight.”

  Leif blinks once, swallows hard, blinks again. “That won’t happen,” he says, voice a husky whisper. “Anything else?”

  There are a multitude of things I’m thinking of right now—equations I’m trying to work out in my head because sometimes things in life make perfect sense. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes there’s a fuzzy haze you can’t quite see through, or figure out why it exists. I recognize the haze is there with Leif, but I’m past the point of caring. I’m in deep and utterly addicted to everything that makes him quality, top shelf, goods. “Yeah, sleepovers start with skinny dipping,” I say, dropping my gaze to his hands as they unbutton his pants. When his erection springs free, I lose my breath.

  Leif shakes a finger in front of my face. “Ah, ah, ah, that’s not for you. Not during our sleepover.” I take my shirt and bra off and slide my shorts and panties down my legs. He watches, an appraising smirk rising to his lips when I’m completely bare. Bending over, right in front of him, I pick up my clothing from the floor. His dick brushes my ass as I stand. Leif groans. “Though right now I wish it was for you.”

  Tossing my clothing on the sofa, I spin to face him. “Me too. Looking at it hard makes me wet,” I reply.

  He runs both hands through his hair and down his face. “Torture. That’s what this is going to be. The best kind of torture.” He steps closer and pulls my naked body against his. Leaning down he puts his lips next to my ear. “I make you wet?”

  My heart races, and I can hear the blood whooshing in my ears. “Yes,” I pant.

  He drags his tongue along my ear, and his cock jerks against my stomach. “Let’s see how wet I can make you.” Leif traces his hands down my sides, creating a wave of desire so strong my legs give out. He catches me and lifts me into his arms until my legs are locked around him, and then he walks out the back door of his condo. Laughing, I bury my face in his neck and close my eyes. I know we’re alone out here. It’s secluded but for his neighbors and there’s tall sawgrass on either side of the path leading around the houses and down to the beach. The waves rush the shore in hisses and bubbles and Leif picks up his pace, running for the water at a speed that scares me.

  “You’re going to be so wet after I get finished with you,” he says, breathing raggedly into my ear. “Dripping,” he adds.

  “Soaking,” I squeal, readjusting my grip around his neck. “Sopping and soggy,” I cry out in between chuckles. He runs into the cool water and takes us down into the water. It’s pitch black but for the moonlight and his blue eyes search mine. His mouth slants up. “Soggy isn’t good. What about slick?”

  “You are slick, you know that?” I return. He pulls us into shallow water, and sits, bringing me on top of him—his huge, hard dick thumping my stomach anytime a wave rolls over our bodies. He eyes the shore, and his condo. “I left my work phone inside,” he says. “Does this count as our sleepover commencement? Skinny dipping.”

  “I am dripping wet,” I say, lifting and lowering my shoulders. “The water temperature is nice. I forgot how good it feels to be in the water at night,” I admit, swallowing. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this carefree. I wouldn’t even know how to define that word in my past. It’s meant something completely different to me up until this point.

  “Naked. With a man?” Leif asks, drawing my gaze back to him. The shade of his eyes will haunt my dreams. It’s the shade the water is during the day. A light, crisp blue, but right now it’s black. Like oil. A contrast of truth.

  “Never naked with a man,” I admit, hugging him closer—the heat from his body warming me. “You’re special, Leif Andersson. You already know that. What about you? Ever skinny dipped with a woman out here?”

  He shakes his head. “No skinny dipping with women. Not here. Not anywhere. This is a first. It is sort of nice. And you know just what to say to hook me a little bit more,” he replies.

  I smile. He smiles. Then he kisses me sweetly, his hands a whisper touch on my face. “I’m not a hooker,” I murmur.

  “I disagree,” he returns, standing up and taking me with him. “You’re a trap. One I’m still not sure fate didn’t set for me. Here in this place I never would have considered living,” he says, sighing. He walks back up the path slowly. “You had me in the water when it wasn’t for work. That’s a huge feat, for your information.”

  “Why? You scared of drowning?” I tease, pressing a kiss against his salty neck. “It is dark and scary out here,” I deadpan.

  “After endless hours of training in the cold, west coast waters, being in the water is never something I choose to do on my own in my free time. I’m not a sadist.”

  “Beach vacays are out of the question then,” I ask as he lifts me out of the water.

  He nods. “I prefer snow skiing. Or exploring new cities in different countries. A cruise ship would be my worst nightmare.” He continues as he carries me up the beach.

  “You live at the beach, Leif,” I point out as we enter the house. He sets me down, our feet leaving sandy pools of water on the shoe mat.

  “I like water sports. Jet skiing and wakeboarding and stuff. But I don’t want to be in the water any more than I have to.”

  We do our best to get the sand off our feet and legs and then race to his bedroom, the air conditioning turning our skin frosty. “Speaking of getting in the water. And fun. Let’s hit the showers,” he says, waggling his brow as he scrolls both of his cell phones. It’s hard not to wonder who he’s checking for, or if there’s someone else. That’s my natural instinct as a woman in this century. That’s sad. In this moment, I give all
of my preconceived notions away to the trash man. Leif isn’t going to hurt me. He isn’t a normal man. He is good. So good.

  I cross my arms. “You’re a walking oxymoron,” I say, rolling my eyes, approaching the bathroom. “And I think it might be what I love most about you.” He beckons me with both of his hands as he cranks on the hot water, and I don’t refuse. His shower is large—two showerheads, one for each of us. I spy a pink bottle of popular women’s shampoo on one side and lose my breath. Don’t bring it up. He has a past just as I do.

  Leif steps into the shower and holds the glass door open for me, all while eying my body like I’m on the menu. The steam hits me and relief from the cold eases my chattering teeth. He stays on his side, washing his body with a handful of soap, while I rinse the salt water from my hair. “Where would you like to go on vacation? Living at the beach, it’s gotta’ be snow,” he says.

  I grab the offending pink bottle to wash my hair and realize it’s full. Brand new. I squirt some in my palm and begin scrubbing my hair. “Anywhere but here,” I say. “I’m not opposed to beach vacations elsewhere. No beach is exactly the same. I’ve been snow skiing once when I was young. I don’t really remember it, though there is video of me flying down a bunny slope straight into a forest. My dad had to take off his skis to go in after me. Mom said I was pretty traumatized after that and just wanted to build snowmen at the base of the mountain.” I rinse my hair out. “Probably time I try again. Maybe now that Mom is…” The words almost left my mouth branding me a selfish daughter. “Never mind,” I say. “I like this shower,” I say, trying to change the subject.

  “You can live your life for you. That’s the way it’s supposed to be, you know?” Leif says, taking my chin into his hand. “Let’s go snow skiing together. A vacation.”

  I smirk and swallow down the guilt. “She’d want me to try again after that disaster,” I admit. “Even if she doesn’t remember it now.” I grab Leif’s soap and start washing my body.

  “I had the bathroom and kitchen redone when I moved in. It looked like the 70s puked all over everything. I’m glad you like it.” Leif clears his throat. “They told me that was the shampoo you used at the store. I wanted you to have something other than Old Spice man wash for your hair. It’s so…long and girly,” he rambles.

  Grinning uncontrollably, I point a soapy finger at the pink bottle. “You bought that for me?”

  He nods, not meeting my eyes. “Figured at the very least we’d go to the beach together and end up here. No one goes to bed without showering first.” He shrugs. “You have to wash your hair after the beach.”

  “True. That’s very thoughtful, though. Almost too thoughtful. Like you were planning on me spending the night.” I quirk one brow. Leif looks off to the side wearing a guilty smile.

  “I get what I want,” he replies, licking his lips. “Wasn’t a matter of if, just when.”

  I can’t argue with that logic. “Well, thank you. I bet their heads popped off when you asked what shampoo I used. I’m surprised I didn’t find out you were shopping for me via the Bronze Bay gossip hotline. You’d be surprised how quickly news travels.”

  “I may have threatened their lives,” he says.

  Turning off my water, I eye him. “Liar.”

  Sighing, he pulls me in for a wet, hot, hug—our skin the same exact temperature. His lips are against my hair. “Plus, I love the way this shampoo smells so much I might use it on myself.”

  “So you can think of me when I’m not around?” I fire back.

  He grunts. “Maybe.”

  Leif wraps me in a fluffy, white towel, then snatches it away when I am mostly dry so the naked sleepover can resume. I bump off the air conditioner and open the windows to let in the warm night air. The waves echo through the living room as we alternate between looking at each other’s naked body to talking about everything. We talk about his family and upbringing a lot and I find myself wistful, yet happy. Happy he had such a happy childhood because it made him the man he is today, and wistful because it’s obvious I missed out on so much. I was forced to grow up so quickly and fully that perhaps skipping it made me who I am. When he finishes a story, I’m no longer afraid to meet his parents, nor will I ever be intimidated by his sisters again.

  “There’s a game I like to play,” I say when there’s a lull in conversation.

  “Let’s play it,” he says, biting his lip.

  “It’s not sexual,” I explain. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep, and I’m too tired to read, I ask myself silly questions. It’s an imagination game. When I was little, I’d ask myself what I’d buy if I had twenty dollars. It was usually whatever toy my friends at school had that I didn’t. Then I got older and the questions turned into, ‘What would my perfect boyfriend look like?’ or ‘What would I do with a billion dollars?’”

  “Oh, this is my favorite kind of game. Ask me anything,” Leif says, excitement lighting his eyes. “I’ll win this game every single time.”

  “There aren’t winners and losers.” We’re stretched out on a cotton blanket on the floor, the television playing lowly in the background. The movie was whatever came up first on his queue, it is over now and some random show is playing as background noise. There was never any question of if we would actually watch it, we just wanted the sound to help fill the silence while we stared. Our eyes are only for each other. “So, what would you do with a billion dollars? Would you quit your job?”

  “First off. We couldn’t tell anyone. Not our family or friends. We’d live off the interest. No ostentatious purchases. That’s where people fuck up when they win the lottery. The money clouds their judgement. I wouldn’t stop working. I love my job, but my hobbies would be way cooler.” He folds his arms behind his head. “We’d gift some of the money to our family and friends. In small increments, though.”

  “That’s smart,” I remark. “Also, you’re saying we. Not I.”

  The dreamy smile drops from his face. “Oh. Well, I thought you asked what we would do with a billion dollars.”

  “I like being a ‘we’ with you,” I reply, tracing his chiseled jaw with my finger. Leaning in, I kiss his lips. He deepens the kiss, leaning into me. The news anchor on television breaks through our perfect moment. Something about a terrorist squad mobilizing. It’s just enough to remind us we don’t live in the same world we did as children. Leif pauses, listening, but keeping his lips against mine. His body goes rigid.

  “What does your ideal boyfriend look like?” Leif asks, distractedly, lips still pressed to mine. It’s obvious his whole demeanor changes when his work is brought up. It’s not just his work, though. It affects everyone. I kiss his jaw. His neck. The swell of his chest, where his muscles begin. His body relaxes under my touch. Maybe this is what I offer him. Peace inside his world of war and unknowns.

  “You’re fishing,” I murmur against his skin.

  “Well, you’re hooking. Makes sense, right?”

  “I didn’t realize what my ideal man looked like until I met you,” I say, meeting his gaze. “You.”

  He peers down at me through his thick blond lashes. “I want to change my billion dollar answer,” Leif growls.

  “No changes,” I say, smirking.

  His face is stoic, severe, as he whispers, “If the only thing I own is your heart I’ll be the richest man in the world.”

  I don’t know how I can tell from just a look, but that seems to be a trend with Leif, and I’m pretty sure we both broke a couple of rules. “Consider yourself a billionaire, fine sir,” I say, bringing his face to mine in a kiss, the news once again becoming background noise.

  Chapter Eleven

  Leif

  “The night is clear. It’s going to be awesome. You can’t tell Aidan,” I mutter to our pilot who just agreed to the biggest favor I’ve ever asked of anyone before. After a day of skydiving, I’m dog ass tired. The adrenaline rush causes a crash akin to a three day alcohol bender. I think it’s from doing something that could possibly ca
use death, over and over, that does it. I could be wrong though.

  “What time,” the pilot asks, looking at his watch. “I’m going to grab something to eat, refuel, and I’ll be back.”

  I tell him to meet me back here at the airport in two hours and then try to sneak out of the airport without Tahoe or Caroline seeing me. I don’t even know if Malena is going to agree to this, but I want to give her the experience. I’ve fallen for her in ways I didn’t know I was capable of. Might as well fall with her, hurdling down to earth above the town that has become my X marks the spot. The place where I found her. The one. My person.

  Driving to her house on my moped, I think about waking up with her this morning. Her warm body splayed across mine, her hair in my face. That’s when it wasn’t a sleepover anymore and we fucked twice before I had to peel myself away to get to the airport on time. Thinking about her naked body underneath mine, our sweat mingling, the sounds of our breaths and skin slapping makes me harder than stone. Swallowing hard, I park next to the palm tree, take off my helmet and ring her doorbell.

  Malena opens the door before the doorbell is finished ringing. “Hi,” she says, jumping into my arms. “I missed you so much.” I fold her into my arms.

  “You took the words out of my mouth. How was your day?” I ask.

  Malena tells me about an event she worked, and her short shift at the store. She doesn’t spare details. I get everything. I love that about her. I’ll never wonder, that’s for sure. I’m glad she’s getting to do what she loves. Event planning might not make a lot of money in the big cities when there are several hundred people vying for the same jobs, but here? Malena has the corner on the market. It’s just her. Weddings are extremely popular because of the picturesque scenery and small town feel.

  “Enough about me,” she says, smiling. There’s an ease about her now. This carefree beauty that wasn’t there until I helped her mother. She is stunning. So beautiful I worry about other men going after what is so obviously mine. “What’s this surprise you were talking about?” she asks.