He held his hands out, and she put both of hers in them. Trusting. Her fingertips balanced in his palms, and she flinched the tiniest bit. But he folded his hands closed, then drew her near.
“You’re dressed and I’m not again. This isn’t fair.”
“Lots of things in life aren’t fair,” he growled. Few things had ever felt truer.
She lifted her hands above her head, then turned. He didn’t let her go the whole time. She crossed her wrists behind her back, both holding and yet leading him behind her. Her hips swung. Their fingers were entwined. Her wrists were crossed at the small of her back and maybe he should have let them go, but he liked the way they looked against her scrap of lace panties.
She looked back over her shoulder and caught his gaze fixated on her ass. Usually he’d have expected a saucy smile, but he didn’t get it. Instead, there was more of that unreadable expression in her eyes. He wrapped his grip around the bend of her hips and jerked her close enough that her ass and pussy snugged up against his trousers. He was hard. Deliciously so.
His gaze flicked back up to hers. There was more light in here from the moon pouring in through the open windows. Outside, the waves made a constant hum. She was breathing hard, sucking in air through her open mouth and panting again.
She tipped forward and planted her hands flat on the mattress. It was soft enough that it gave, making her position more precarious. “Open your knees,” he ordered.
She obeyed. As simple as that. “Touch me?”
“That almost sounded like begging.” The things she did to him. The things she did for him. More than he’d ever expected. His palms coasted over her back and her ass and her thighs. Everywhere but where she wanted him.
“Please.” She swallowed, licking her lips. “Please touch me. Please fuck me, Sean. You know I need it.”
“Me,” he grunted. “You need me.”
“I do.”
He planted his hand flat in the middle of her lower back, right above the dimples marking the end of her spine. He pushed. She bent. Bent farther when he wanted more from her, until her cheek was against the soft nap of the sheets. Annie always gave him so much. He brushed over her wet panties when he unzipped his fly and put on a condom, but then he wrapped the flimsy gusset of those panties around his fist.
She whimpered when his knuckles brushed her flesh, then cried out when he yanked. He grunted against the need to be even more brutal. To let everything go. The panties tore away, first digging into her hip bones and then wisping away like a ghost. Gone that quickly.
Then he was inside her. Soaked, she gave way, but she was sweet pressure around him as he filled her pussy. His fingers dug into her hips. Marks would probably show on her skin in the morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Every thrust took him somewhere higher. Somewhere he wanted to be. His hand was firm and hard on her hip, his other still planted in the center of her back. He had her exactly where he wanted. They were working together for the same thing.
His hand in the middle of her back restrained her movement. Her back arched against the confinement and he kept her still. Steady.
Even while he fucked her.
Chapter 34
Sean could become Annie’s everything.
Because she loved him.
Her chest worked on a sob, but she held back from making a sound through sheer will. She fisted her hands in the sheet. This was not the time, not the place, not the moment that she’d want to throw herself into an abyss. The trust she’d need . . . She didn’t have it. Not really. Real love meant fully giving yourself over, and neither she nor Sean had done that.
The image of him in the restaurant, throwing out words like dares, flashed before her eyes. That wasn’t trust. That was pretty much the opposite.
No one had told her body how little Sean trusted her. He fucked her deeply, and the pleasure gathered deep in her belly. Every thrust ground her clit against the slick cotton of his pants. There was more pressure within her. Pushing back and taking more.
She exploded, breaking apart in shards of pleasure that slipped through her body like razors. Quick and painful and amazing all at once. There was little more than pure feeling. Her knees gave out, but he held her up. Even while he grunted with his own orgasm and held her near. He carried her weight balanced in his hands.
He carried her heart in his hands. And he didn’t trust her.
Annie was panting when she dropped to the mattress. Her thighs were shaky with the force that had just swept through her. She scrunched her eyes closed and pressed her face to the mattress. One hand fisted next to her head.
She was Annie Baxter, and she reached for what she deserved. With or without Sean Westin.
Her brain wouldn’t work fast enough to let her pull away, and he’d hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her down so they’d collapsed together. Her head came to rest on the curve of his shoulder into his biceps, a place that normally felt like it had been crafted for her. Now it felt like glass and barbwire.
She’d wound her fingers in the placket of his Armani shirt. This could be the last time she touched him. The tumult inside her was frightening. She didn’t know how to put the pieces together.
There was no way to balance the man who’d tried to push her away with the man she’d fallen in love with.
Love. Jesus, it was nearly laughable.
The night air purred with the continuous wash of waves, steps from their bungalow. The open windows and thatched roof only kept out her view of the stars, but that was almost too much. The sparkle would be too much when there were tears in her eyes.
He swallowed, and she could hear the sound from the way her ear was pressed against his chest. “Teenage arsonists usually become serial killers.”
She made a sound halfway between laughter and shock. “You did not just compare yourself to Dexter, did you?”
“It’s not unheard of.” He chuckled, though the sound was awful to her. “And I don’t mean I’m worried that I’m going to reach over and break your neck—”
“Oh, I’m so glad of that,” she interrupted dryly.
“But it’s just that I’ve always worried that I was . . . I dunno. A little off. That I could do that. And I sat on the curb and waited for the fire department without crying, or freaking out even a little bit. It was just . . . a thing.”
“You’re not a closet sociopath, Sean. The fact that you would worry about that proves the very opposite. It was a thing you needed to do. Frankly, I don’t think you should have been left alone, for any reason.” She pushed up to a seated position. It was easier when he stayed lying down. Her head bowed. She didn’t want to see his face when she continued on. This was going to be bad enough. Her throat squeezed tight. “You were a broken little boy and you lashed out. That was only a little bit your fault.”
“That was only a little my fault,” he echoed, putting emphasis on the first word as he pushed up on his elbows. “So . . . what is my fault?”
She sighed and finally looked at him. He hissed in a sharp breath when their gazes connected. Maybe she wasn’t covering everything up as well as she thought. He lifted a hand to the side of her face, trying to cup her jaw.
But she flinched away.
“Annie?” Her name was a question and something more at the same time.
“We should just let this go. You’ve got a really big few days coming up, and we’re here on the far side of the world.” She raked her fingers through her hair, trying to convince herself. It didn’t have to all explode now, did it? Wrecking their perfect fantasy world? “It’ll be fine.”
“It’ll be fine,” he repeated. “So it’s not fine now.”
“Fucking hell, Sean.” She snapped, her mouth running away with her. “You really think you can pull bullshit like that and have everything be fine?”
“I knew it,” he
snarled. He dropped flat to the bed, looking a little like a child avoiding an argument.
“Oh bullshit.” The bed shifted as she twisted around. She couldn’t hear the rush of the waves past the roar in her ears. She stood and went to her suitcase, pulling on a pair of pajama pants and a tank top. Sean buttoned up the clothing he’d never taken off, and instantly it was as if they’d never been. “I bet a thousand bucks that you’re sitting there, assuring yourself that my problem concerns what you did ten years ago. And it does not.”
“It sure does seem like it. The timing’s right.” He was flat as a glassy ocean. No waves, no ups, no downs. Everything pulled away in that glossy face he put on for strangers. His rolled-up sleeves displayed his strength when he crossed his arms over his chest. “If it’s not what I did after my mom died, then what is it? Say it, Annie.”
“Fine.” She wrapped her arms around her narrow stomach. Held herself tight. Her insides felt like they were about to spill over the floor, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. “It’s the timing. You were pissed at yourself because you wiped out today. So you basically threw a shit fit all over me. You told me your sob story so you wouldn’t have to face anything real.”
“I did not,” he snarled. When she stayed silent, he stalked toward the switch and flipped it on, flooding their room with light. “I didn’t, Annie.”
“You did.” On some odd level she recognized that she was smiling, but her cheeks were tight and her teeth felt like they could grind lava rock into dust. “It was completely on purpose.”
“It was not!” Except his protests seemed almost too vehement.
“Tell me that you weren’t upset this afternoon. I dare you.”
“Why wouldn’t I be upset? I fucking screwed up a wave that I should have nailed.” He threw a hand out to the side, pointing toward the roaring waves at their back door. “I cannot afford to screw up when my qualification for the World Championship Tour is on the line. I’ve missed two events. I need these points. I need to win. Do you know how many times I’ve surfed Cloudbreak before?”
She stood ramrod straight, her hands fisting at her side. “You. How many times you’ve surfed. You need to win.” Her chin jerked back. “How many times have I been to Fiji before, Sean?”
“Never. You’ve never been here.” His eyes narrowed, and he came a step toward her. “Why didn’t you make it to Fiji, Annie? Why did you quit surfing? How could you quit?”
Her shoulders went up in a tight shrug. “You know, you’ve never asked me why before.”
“I thought you’d talk about it if you wanted to. Because I didn’t want to . . .” He trailed off. He hadn’t meant to say that, it seemed, because his mouth flattened and his cheeks hollowed.
But the pieces were finally falling together. “Because you didn’t want to talk about your secrets. Exactly.”
“Why didn’t you go pro, Annie?”
She was tempted to tell him it was too little too late, but there was no real point in that. Her hands tightened in their fists. “I was dating my sponsor rep.”
“They’re not supposed to do that.”
“I know. But I was eighteen and he was twenty-three, and that seemed so damn cool, like he had all his shit together.” God, she’d been so very, very wrong. “Two weeks after I graduated high school, the ASP event was in Trestles. So he drove me up for a party.”
He shook his head, his expression going dark. “Ten years ago? Things weren’t very pretty.”
“Nope. Wasn’t pretty at all when he made it super clear that if I didn’t put out for one of the big stars, then I should at least put out for him. That was ‘the way it worked’ and I should get on board if I really wanted a career.” He’d looked so good and clean and talked so reasonably as they’d sat on the back porch of the party. The waves she’d always relied on had droned on in the background. “I asked him to take me home, but he still didn’t get it. He drove down a back road and said he’d give me one more chance. He started . . . He tried to hurt me. I had to take care of myself. I’ve always had to take care of myself.”
“You’re incredibly strong.”
She shook her head, both hands going to her hair. Her fingers twined. “But don’t you get it? I shouldn’t have to defend myself. This whole fucking world is skewed, and I think you’re one of the worst victims, Sean.”
He flinched away from her. His shoulders folded as if he’d pull in on himself if he could. “What the hell? I’m no victim. I haven’t been for a long fucking time, and I never will be again.”
“I get that. I do.” The air had been sucked out of her. She could barely breathe anymore, not through the rasping sting that her throat had become.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask why you’d chosen school. That was an oversight.”
Her heart withered. The pain spread through her, making her want to be sick. One-way love was a horrible thing. “I want to be something more than an oversight.”
“You are, Annie.” He crossed the room in a few steps. They had been too far apart, but when he held her shoulders, she could barely feel his touch. Lowering his head, he pressed their foreheads together. “You’re important to me. I . . . Jesus, Annie, I love you.”
A soft sound wrenched from her. She put her hands on either side of his face. Compared to the chill in her fingertips, his skin was flames. “You want to love me. Maybe you could someday. But I don’t think you do now.”
“You don’t get to say what I feel.”
“You don’t get to say I love you as a weapon.”
He kept his eyes closed. She didn’t, though. She watched his mouth, waited to see what he’d say. Even though she wanted words to fix all this, she couldn’t imagine what possible solution there could be.
“Don’t leave,” he said softly. And it wasn’t enough.
“I can’t be near you right now.” Her voice shook, after all her talk of strength. She still couldn’t stop the tears that welled, though. They fell and caught on his thumbs. He swept moisture over her cheeks. It felt like rubbing the pain into her skin.
“I’ll go stay with someone. I know . . .” He gave a helpless noise, something just shy of a laugh. “I know everyone. And no one. No one knows me like you do, Annie.”
“I’m sorry for that, Sean.”
It didn’t take him long to pack a bag. From the bed, Annie watched him go. She sat in a tight little knot, her arms wrapped around her lifted knees. Her cheeks felt heavy, and it probably didn’t help the situation that she kept staring at him. She wanted him to be better. She wanted to be better herself. No, that wasn’t right. She just wanted them to fit better. But it felt like their messed-up parts hit at just the wrong angles.
He stopped in the doorway. “Will you stay in Fiji at least?”
Her nod made his blazing eyes lighten. But then she added, “But you won’t see me, Sean. Not if I can help it.”
Chapter 35
Annie stayed away from alcohol at the post-Pro party. It was strange enough to be there. Her hands were shaking and her stomach was a twisting mess. Adding alcohol to the mix seemed like a really poor choice.
Especially since she was standing in the middle of a party thrown to celebrate Sean’s victory.
He’d won the whole fucking event. First place. Everything he could have dreamed of.
He’d stomped through each round like a man on a mission. Annie had watched from the bar at the resort, since piping a live feed into the big-screen TVs was better than having a half dozen boats out at the break just so people could watch. He’d relied on classic moves and getting perfectly barreled. He’d made the first perfect ten of the event on the second round by dropping into a wave and letting it close into a barrel so large that he’d lifted his hands full length and barely skimmed the water above his head.
He’d been amazing.
The final round had been against Nate, and despi
te the other man getting his own ten-point wave, Sean had beaten him by three points, which was considered a wide margin when the highest possible score was only twenty.
He must be on top of the world.
And Annie was in hell.
She had her hands clenched around a Coke as she stood near the bar. The resort had set up an open-air party room of sorts. A thatched roof was held up by the occasional wooden beam support. The sides were completely open to the setting sun. At one end, they’d set up a bar manned by three bartenders, and trough-sized buckets were filled with ice and beer at points around the room.
The whole event had been sponsored by Coyote. This was Sean’s gig. Any moment, he’d walk in like a triumphant king.
Annie should back away. She should leave. Just like she shouldn’t have watched every second of the last five days of competition. She could have gone home instead of giving in to compulsions.
But her other choice was retreating to the bure they’d briefly shared. The bungalow was too big for only her, and too fancy. She’d tried surfing on her own too. The resort had a beach break that was a hundred yards of beautiful but not-too-intimidating points. She’d gone out two afternoons in a row with a board she’d rented from the resort; touching the short boards that Sean had left behind in the bure would have been like licking poison. The idea made her heart and her stomach clench.
Surfing hadn’t been the same without him. Being in the bungalow hadn’t been the same without him.
Fucking hell, breathing hadn’t been the same without him.
That didn’t mean she hadn’t been right.
Commotion at the other end of the oversized cabana made Annie jump. Her heart took up residence somewhere around her ears, apparently figuring her throat just wasn’t dramatic enough. She tried to calm herself with long, slow breaths, but it didn’t work. She had no way to ground herself. She floated in a paradise that was more like hell.
Sean had arrived.
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