Adorably kissable.
“That should be outlawed,” I say with absolute conviction.
“What, kissing?”
I shake my head. “Not kissing. People should kiss! It’s the best thing. I love kissing a man. Tongues and lips and sighs and moans.” A sigh leaves me as I sink into the seat, trying to come up with the memory of a really good, delicious kiss, but I’m drawing a blank. All I can focus on is Caleb’s lips and what they might taste like. “When you kiss someone for the first time and a thrill ripples through you as you learn each other. Don’t you want to know what a girl tastes like?”
“This conversation is getting stranger and stranger,” he says, avoiding my question.
I lightly smack his arm, my fingers grazing his bare skin. He’s firm and warm and solid as a damn rock. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
He studies me, sliding his tongue along his lower lip slowly, like he’s assessing me as his next meal. It’s sexy. Even with his confession that he doesn’t kiss much, I am tempted to do exactly that. Kiss him. Taste him. Nibble his lower lip. Suck on his tongue. Whatever.
“When it comes to you, I know I’m missing pretty much everything,” he says, his voice low. “Which is a damn shame.”
The air in the car becomes charged with his admission. My entire body pulls taut like a wire stretched too tight. Air lodges in my throat and I wait for him to say something. Do something.
He remains still, as if he’s waiting for me to make the next move, and I realize our standoff is the perfect assessment of our entire relationship. This is what we do. We wait for the other person to make a move. And when it doesn’t happen?
We let it go. Until the next time we’re in this same predicament.
And we will be—in this predicament. It’s just what we do.
“This is a bad idea,” I whisper, not exactly sure what I’m referring to.
“You say that a lot.” He reaches out, his hand hanging between us for a moment. Should he, or shouldn’t he?
He goes with should, and that hand grazes my cheek, sliding into my hair on the left side of my head, his long fingers threading through the strands. I brace myself, scared I’ll melt into a puddle at his first touch but somehow, I remain upright. Only my breathing accelerates, my heart rate speeding up.
I blink up at him, unable to see anything else but Caleb and his blue eyes and his sensual mouth. That mouth promises all sorts of things. I wouldn’t mind feeling it all over my body. Between my legs. Oh yes. He would know just what to do…
He leans in, his mouth hovering above mine, and I mock gasp. “Are you going to actually kiss me?”
“No,” he murmurs, his lips brushing mine when he speaks. “I don’t kiss girls, remember?”
“This girl is going to kiss you,” I say in warning just as I shift forward, forcing our lips to connect.
A bolt rushes through me at first contact. Yep, that luscious mouth feels just as good as it looks. His lips are soft, and he purses them the slightest bit, breaking the kiss almost reluctantly as he slowly pulls away.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers, his fingers curling into my hair.
I scowl at him. “Why the hell not?”
He doesn’t answer me with words.
Instead, he kisses me again, and he takes it deep. Deeper. I open for him without hesitation, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, making me edge closer, wanting to get near him. I tangle my tongue with his, the kiss turning dirty in an instant, because it’s Caleb. And it’s me. The two of us together.
I grip his shoulder with one hand, my fingers tugging on the soft fabric of his Mitchell’s T-shirt. I can feel the heat of his skin. The hard ridge of muscle beneath. I want to touch more. I want bare skin and mouths and hands everywhere and moans filling the car. I want to climb on top of him and see what he does next.
I have the distinct feeling that no matter what Caleb does to me in a situation like this, it would never, ever disappoint.
He breaks the kiss first. Again. Breathing heavily, his wide chest rising and falling in an accelerated rhythm that my own chest matches. I crack my eyes open to find him already watching me, his lips damp and swollen, his gaze roving over my face as if he’s actually seeing me for the first time. He pulls his hand out of my hair and I’m disappointed at the loss, which is silly.
Silly but true.
“What the fuck, Gracie?” he asks, his voice harsh.
I frown. He sounds… mad? “What?”
“We can’t kiss.”
“Oh, we definitely can,” I say with a snort, reaching for him again but he dodges away from me.
“No, we can’t. I can’t do this with you.” He opens the car door and climbs out in a hurry and I watch in disbelief as he walks away, his long legs taking him pretty far in a short amount of time. I remain in his car, unmoving, watching as he heads for our apartment, only for him to stop in the middle of the sidewalk, throwing his head back so he can stare up at the sky.
In the city we can’t see the stars. Where I grew up, I never really saw the stars ever. Up at Mitchell’s, on the lake, we see them every single night when we work late, and they are wondrous. The night sky is a mystery, just like this man is a mystery to me, and I wish I could figure him out.
I wonder if he wishes the same thing in regards to me.
Slowly he turns and heads back toward his car, me still sitting inside. He comes to the passenger side and opens the door, ducking his head so he can look into my eyes. “Let’s go, Gracie.”
I get out of the car, still wobbly, and he grabs hold of my arm, his grip gentle. Steadying. He locks the car and steers me toward the sidewalk that leads to our apartment, not saying a word. I walk beside him, my mouth still tingling from the sensation of his lips on mine.
It was a good kiss. A solid kiss. But nothing too outrageous. Truthfully? I’ve had sexier kisses. In fact, I can guarantee Caleb can do a better job than that. There was something about him just now that made me sense he was holding back.
Holding himself in.
Maybe it would always be that way with Caleb. He will never reveal his true self to me. There will always be something he’s hiding. Not like some big creepy secret. I don’t worry about that. More like he keeps certain pieces of himself private. Never to be glimpsed by someone unless they’re important to him.
Huh. Maybe I need to realize I’m just not that important to him. And it’s probably best if I leave well enough alone.
Seven
Caleb
Time has just flown by since the night of the kiss with Gracie. It’s 4th of July weekend and work is a madhouse. Besides renting out boats and jet skis, Mitchell’s Landing also has a bunch of cabins they rent out to tourists. Those cabins are booked usually all summer long, and during the 4th of July, they’re booked out a year in advance. It’s insane. All the locals and the tourists come out to the lake, and the road is packed with cars, the lakeshore crowded with people. Once the sun is fully down, there’s the fireworks show. It’s usually pretty awesome, but right now I’m distracted as fuck.
I can’t stop thinking about Gracie. Gracie who likes it best when a guy sucks her clit and finger fucks her at the same time. Gracie who made out with her best friend on a dare. Gracie who kissed me and tasted like lime and sweetness and sin. Gracie who stared at me while she was drunk and told me I was pretty.
She’s the one who’s pretty. She’s the one who I now envision kneeling before me, her mouth full of dick. My dick. And she’s loving every second of it as she sucks me off.
That particular fantasy has run through my brain on a constant loop since that night. We never did admit how many sexual partners we’ve had to each other, and maybe that’s for the best. She got too distracted by me saying I didn’t like kissing women, which I suppose is a pretty bold statement.
It’s not that I don’t like it—kissing is fucking awesome, ain’t gonna lie. But kissing is also dangerous. You smooch a woman a couple of ti
mes, and it’s so damn intimate. Next thing you know, they’re coming up with our future kids’ names and they’re telling me what to do. Who I can be friends with, and who I can’t hang out with anymore. They try to run my life and manage my schedule when all I did was fuck them a couple of times.
That’s why I avoid kissing at all costs. Even with Baylee at the end, I wouldn’t do it. I didn’t want to send her mixed signals. I sent her enough already, I didn’t need to muddle up what we were doing any more than I already had.
Kissing Gracie was a fucking mistake though, because now I can’t get the taste of her out of my mouth or head. I crave it. I crave her.
She’s pissed at me.
Not like stomping around, fight me pissed like usual. It’s a quiet anger, simmering just beneath the surface. We’re polite to each other. We still ride up together to work on occasion, like today, which was born out of necessity since it’s crowded and why fight for two parking spaces. She’s the one who drove this time while I sat in the passenger seat, feeling helpless. Feeling stupid. At a loss. Wishing I could say something, anything to her to make her hear me out and realize where I’m coming from.
The problem? I have no idea where I’m coming from. I don’t know what I want. From myself, from her, from the two of us together. I want more from Gracie, what else is new, but now it’s forefront in my mind. I’ve kissed her. Touched her. And as usual, she hates me.
Instead of trying to talk to her, I put my AirPods in and put on some banger music that allows me to work out some of my frustration, but not enough.
I was going to talk to Eli about my issues, but before I got the chance, he planned a spontaneous trip to the beach with Ava and they took off a couple of days ago. Tony’s in the Bay Area with Hayden. Diego and Jocelyn are hanging out with Jocelyn’s family for the day and they’ll be around for the fireworks tonight, though I doubt I’ll get a chance to see them, it’ll be so crowded. Their daughter, Gigi, can’t handle the fireworks. She screams and cries every time, so she’s staying home with her grandparents.
Here I am all alone, trying to figure this shit out with Gracie— while she’s still mad at me, barely looking at me, barely even talking to me.
It sucks.
We’re busy all afternoon, helping people out with their rentals, assisting them with launching their boats into the lake. We’ve gone out throughout the day and rescued a couple of boats. One of our patio boats stalled out. A couple of jet skis ran out of gas. Some old guy steered his fishing boat right into the rocks.
Typical busy day.
Gracie spends most of it in the office, helping out customers. They wait in line to talk to her, full of questions and concerns, needing help with this, that and the other. All the while, she keeps her cool and does what she can with a smile on her face, looking patriotic as fuck with her red Mitchell’s Landing T-shirt, the white shorts that make her legs look extra-long and her hair pulled back into a high ponytail with a navy blue and white star spangled scrunchie.
I stare at her as she walks by, my gaze glued to her tanned legs. They’re golden brown and I bet they’d be smooth to the touch. I remember her tangy sweet lips and when my gaze finds her mouth, it’s formed into a firm line. Almost a frown.
As in, she’s caught me staring and she’s currently giving me icicle vibes.
“I need to get laid,” I tell no one in particular once she’s out of earshot.
“There are about six girls up in the restaurant right now who would take you up on that offer,” my coworker Aidan says. The guy is nineteen, and went to the same high school as I did. He’s cool. A complete horn dog, so we have that in common.
“I don’t fuck where I eat,” I tell him, making him laugh.
“I thought you and Gracie had a thing going. That’s what Noelle said,” Aidan tells me.
“I told her that to get her off my back,” I admit. “Gracie is just a friend.”
“She’s a fucking hottie.” We both swivel our heads at the same time to watch her enter the dock office. “I’d totally hit that.”
I tamp down the jealousy rising in me. He’d never have a chance. Gracie eats douchebags like him for breakfast. “Again, I can’t fuck where I eat. I should find a tourist.”
“There are some babes hanging around here this weekend,” Aidan says with a grin. “Take a break. Go up to the restaurant. I’m sure you’ll find a couple of girls who are interested in whatever you’re putting down.”
This kid talks like an idiot. He reminds me of myself. “You don’t mind if I take my break right now?”
“Nah. Go for it,” Aidan says. “We’ve got this handled.”
It’s fairly quiet at the moment. The calm before the storm. Soon a bunch of boats will be brought back in for the night. And still others will launch out into the water, ready for the fireworks show. At seven there will be a boat parade and people will shout and cheer for the most patriotically decorated boat. It’s a ritual that happens every single year without fail.
“I’ll be back,” I tell Aidan as I walk away from him.
I pass by the dock office, see Gracie standing in the open window chatting with customers about what time the fireworks are starting tonight. Don’t know how many times I’ve heard that conversation today, but I’m sure she’s sick of talking about it. I try to catch her eye, but it’s like she refuses to look at me and so I stalk my way up the sidewalk that leads to the dock, cross the road and head into the restaurant by way of the general store.
All the girls who work inside call my name in greeting when I enter, waving and smiling like they’re actually glad to see me, unlike another girl I know. I bask in their adoration, not caring if they mean it or not. I need their compliments and enthusiasm because I can’t remember the last time I had a girl actually excited to see me.
I make random conversation while one of them scoops up an ice cream for me, coffee flavored in a sugar cone. After I pay, I head outside and sit at one of the picnic tables on the patio, scrolling through my phone, already bored out of my mind.
Lifting my head, my gaze goes to the dock, where Gracie is currently standing and chatting with Aidan. She’s laughing at whatever he says, the sun glinting off her hair, making it shine.
Making her shine.
My chest aches from watching her and I hate that she looks so happy with someone else while all she can manage to do is scowl at me. How did I fuck this up so badly? Why is she so angry at me? I thought we were doing okay. I thought we were being real with each other.
Guess we can’t do that after all. It sends everything to shit.
There are tourists everywhere. Plenty of girls in bikinis or with a towel wrapped around their waist. Or a T-shirt covering their swimsuits, the fabric damp and clingy, their hair hanging around their faces. They’re all pretty, with sun-burnished cheeks and big smiles, the scent of suntan oil or sunscreen clinging to their skin. I smile at more than a few of them and they smile in return, though not one of them tries to talk to me.
And I don’t talk to them either. I don’t feel like it.
This…is alarming. Am I losing my mojo? Maybe I don’t have what it takes any longer. I’ve burned out, which is a shitty feeling. I can’t burn out. Not now. I’m only halfway through college. I need to keep up the same level of good-time party guy for the next two years. I need to live it up during this time of my life, because I’m never going to get it back.
Frustration growing, I toss the remainder of my ice cream cone into the trash before I head back to the dock and throw myself back into work.
“Take a rest,” TJ tells us when the boat parade is about to start. “Relax. The hardest part is done.”
Aidan and I share a bench that sits directly in front of the office and faces the water, both of us swigging down water, though I secretly wish for a beer. Alcohol might ease the tension between my shoulders.
Actually, I know exactly what would ease the tension between my shoulders and radiating down my back. Sex. I haven’t been ins
ide a woman in a while. A few weeks—
Frowning, I calculate exactly how long it’s been, and I can’t quite remember. At least a month. An entire freakin’ month. That’s some sort of record for me.
“I seriously need to get laid,” I say out loud.
“You’ve already mentioned that,” Aidan says with a chuckle. “Didn’t see any fine ass babes up in the restaurant earlier?”
“Nah. They all look too—young.” I make a face.
“What’s wrong with young?” Aidan raises his brows.
“You’re only nineteen. It’s no big deal.”
“And you’re only twenty,” he reminds me.
“Almost twenty-one,” I tack on, needing the reminder.
“Big deal.”
“I keep getting older and they all keep getting younger.” I tilt my head toward a boat full of babes that’s passing by.
Boat full of babes. I sound like a prick even in my own head.
“Look, as long as they’re of legal age, what does it matter? This is your time to shine among the younger babes, Caleb. When it doesn’t matter as much. When you’re forty-five with a beer belly and bald head still trying to hit on eighteen-year-olds? Then you’re going to look like a dick, my friend,” Aidan explains, as if he’s so freaking wise.
But he’s making a valid point.
I get bored fast watching the decorated boats pass by. The dock is starting to fill up with people who want to sit on their moored boats to watch the parade and the upcoming fireworks, and Aidan ditches me in an instant when a group of girls he graduated with approach him, all of them flirtatious as they greet him in sing-songy, high-pitched voices.
Not a one of them even glances over at me.
Irritated, I hop off the bench and stride into the dock office, not even realizing Gracie is in there until I spot her sitting behind the desk, going through paperwork. She glances up the moment I walk in, that familiar frown on her face.
The Junior (College Years Book 3) Page 7
