No Pants Required

by Kim Karr

  Clapping is what pulls us apart.

  We both turn our heads.

  Brooklyn is standing there. “Bravo, that’s the way they do it on TV, man. I’m so fucking proud to call you a friend.”

  “Fuck you,” I tell him and get to my feet, bringing Makayla with me.

  “Anytime, bro, anytime.” He laughs and walks away.

  Crying from the open kitchen window of my house takes our attention away from our admissions of love and back to where we were headed before it all started.

  Makayla looks up at me, and I give her a nod. She takes off and I follow her.

  In my kitchen, Maggie is looking slightly shaken and her mother is holding her hand, trying to calm her down.

  “Is everything okay?” Makayla asks.

  I close the door and stand behind her.

  Ms. May is a beautiful woman, tall with short blond hair. And she is always dressed just to the nines. Today is no different. She’s wearing a black suit and high heels.

  She smiles at Makayla. “Hi, Makayla.” She lets go of Maggie’s hand to hug her.

  “Hi, I didn’t know you were coming,” Makayla says.

  “It wasn’t planned. I just wanted to talk to both you and Maggie before anything is made public.”

  “What is made public?” Makayla asks, her voice full of worry.

  “Hi, Cam.” Ms. May waves.

  I clear my throat. “Hi, Ms. May. I’ll leave you three to talk.”

  “No, it’s fine. You can stay,” she says.

  I look toward Makayla, and then Maggie.

  Both of them nod, letting me know it is okay to stay.

  “Please, sit down,” Katherine says.

  Once we are all seated, she sits too. “I already told Maggie about this, Makayla. Simon Warren is in financial trouble. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I am going to stick it out with them, and that means I may have to move back to New York City.”

  “Mom, I already told you, I think you should take some time to consider this. You hated it when we lived there.” Maggie’s voice is soft. “Take what I have left in my trust. You can use it to hold you over until you find a new job.”

  Ms. May has tears in her eyes. “I appreciate that, but I can’t. That is your money, and someday you might need it. I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m going to be fine.”

  Both Makayla and Maggie get up and wrap their arms around her. “We know you are,” I hear Makayla whisper in her ear. “You’re the toughest woman I know.”

  About ten minutes later, everyone seems to have calmed down enough to head back to the party.

  Makayla grabs the wine bottle she opened earlier and a Corona from the refrigerator. “Come with me,” she says.

  I follow her up the stairs and into her room.

  Once inside, she peels off that purple dress and then she removes her panties and bra, followed by the lei I’d given her. “This is who I am,” she says.

  My eyes take her in from head to toe. “I know who you are,” I tell her.

  “I like things neat. I’m quirky. I do not like to try new foods. I cross my t’s and dot my i’s, always. I have weird phobias. I always wonder what if. I hate sleeping in and like to go to bed early.”

  I look into her eyes and see everything in her gaze. Fear. Hope. Pride. And love. Heat, too. That so familiar and welcome heat. I walk toward her. “I love you,” I tell her softly. “I love everything about you.”

  She lets out a breath, as if she’d been holding it. “I love you, too, but I think I should also tell you I don’t think I can ever let you in the back door.”

  Nothing can stop the rip-roaring laughter that bubbles out of me as I lift her and swing her onto the bed. “That’s okay, baby. As long as I can go in the front door, that’s all I need.”

  She’s all I need.

  MAKAYLA

  IT FEELS LIKE ALL I did was blink and summer is already coming to an end.

  Sales at the surf shop didn’t pan out. And even though I had enough money saved for the summer, I became more and more nervous about my future. The California carefree lifestyle must exist only in the movies. Anyway, worries are why I ended up taking the job at Gemstone Gallery. It’s not the best, but not that bad, either. I manage the business, and Eric has even allowed me to showcase a few of my own designs.

  Maggie has been taking as many extra shifts at the lifeguard station as she can to preserve her trust, should her mother need it. Sadly, Simon Warren is not in any better shape than it was, even with Katherine running retail operations in New York. There’s a very real possibility that by the year’s end the company will be closing its doors for good.

  Aside from that, things are going amazingly well for me, except for one small issue . . . I’m late.

  I turn to Cam. “I can’t sleep.”

  He runs his fingers through my hair with a sigh. “Makayla, baby, I love you, but you are driving me insane. The fifteen home tests we took were negative. The pregnancy test at the doctor’s office was negative. Stop thinking about it. You are not pregnant.”

  I rise onto one elbow. “I know, but I’m late. I’m never late. What if the blood work from the doctor’s office comes back positive? What if I am pregnant? What if they say it’s twins? Or triplets? What if we’re the next Jon & Kate Plus 8? We’re not ready for something like that.”

  Cam is looking seriously ill. “Listen, go to sleep and stop worrying. Tomorrow will come soon enough and then you’ll stop all this craziness.”

  Flopping onto my back, I stare at the ceiling. I know Cam is as worried as I am. He’s trying not to show it, but I can tell.

  What if . . . I am?

  What if . . . he can’t handle it?

  What if . . . I can’t?

  What if the fact that I want to eat pickles right now is a sign?

  What if . . .

  Early the next morning, I wake up to the muffled sound of vomit coming from the bathroom. At first I think it’s morning sickness, then I realize that would have to be me in there, not Cam.

  I listen and then I hear the toilet flush and the water in the shower turn on. The water runs for such a long time that I’m about to get up and check on him when it turns off.

  Minutes later, Cam comes into the dark room and slips into bed behind me, naked.

  “Are you okay?” I ask over my shoulder.

  He smells minty, like mouthwash. “Yeah, I’m fine. Maggie’s eggplant Parmesan must have upset my stomach. I’ll be okay.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “No,” he answers, pulling me close to him. “All I need is you.”

  “I’m always here.”

  “Right now,” he growls. “I want you, right now. I want to spread you open and fuck you until dawn.”

  Dirty, dirty boy.

  Desire explodes in my stomach as those rough words hit me. “Oh, God, Cam, me too.”

  Anything to distract me.

  The muscles in his upper body ripple against my body and he rolls me over so he can squeeze my breasts and bite the tips of them. I can’t help but wonder if the sensitivity I feel when he does it is due to pregnancy. Maybe my breasts are swollen and achy. I’m not sure. No, I think they are. Then he bites at my nipple again and I think no, they feel the same.

  Get out of your head, Makayla. Get out of it. It’s dangerous in there. Take advantage of this distraction. I know Cam is thinking the same thing I am. If we fuck until the doctor’s office calls, it will lessen our worry.

  I allow him to consume me with his mouth. Within moments, my bones feel like they have disintegrated inside his body. Like we are one.

  “Do you want my cock in you?” he asks roughly.

  Yes. Yes. Yes. The place between my legs burns and yearns for him. My voice is achy and needy, full of arousal. “I want you to fuck me . . . hard,” I breathe.

  He exhales a shaky breath. His thumb scrapes my lips, runs down my jaw, circles the hard points of my nipples. “You sure?”


  “Cam,” I say, my heart squeezing in need as I close my hands around his cock. “Fuck me, now, or I’ll fuck myself.”

  A low, rumbling growl rips up his throat as he turns me around. “Makayla,” he rasps, rubbing his cock against my entrance. “I want my hands all over you, and my cock inside you, and after I make you come so hard you see stars, I’m going to run my tongue all over your hot little body, and then I’m going to rub it for hours against your clit.”

  That dirty, dirty boy.

  “Oh, God, Cam.” My clit throbs between my thighs as I press my ass into his cock.

  “Harder,” he huskily demands, and when I ram myself against him, there’s a slight pain that soon becomes a feeling of unbelievable pleasure.

  “Again?” I ask, waiting for his command.

  “Harder,” he says again and this time, it sends prickles of excitement racing through my veins.

  We move. Harder. Faster. More intensely than we ever have.

  While one hand is squeezing my breast tight, the other is rubbing my clit. “Oh, fuck,” he cries.

  “Oh, God, I’m coming. I’m coming,” I moan in unbelievable pleasure. My body is leaving this planet like a rocket and going into outer space. Comets, planets, the stars and moon are all I can see.

  Before I’ve come back to earth, as promised, Cam is flipping me over and running his tongue all over my chest, licking my nipples, sliding down farther and capturing my sex in one giant swoop.

  My hands on his hair press him to me.

  He pushes my knees up and soon he’s lifting me with a hand on my ass. “Stay like this,” he orders.

  Kegels. I’m doing Kegels.

  And he’s feasting on me, licking me, sucking me.

  Oh, God, it feels so incredibly good.

  Like his tongue should be illegal.

  As if knowing my thoughts, he runs that tongue from my sex all the way up the crease of my ass. Swirls it around and around that forbidden zone, and then licks his way back down.

  Rising on his palms, he licks his lips and his eyes twinkle in mischief. “You taste so fucking good.”

  My pulse is beating frantically in my throat while the heat he’s kindling inside me starts to blaze like an inferno.

  Cam doesn’t hesitate as he swoops back down and sends me to Mars, Jupiter, Venus, and Uranus, over and over and over.

  “Cam, I can’t, I can’t, no more,” I cry out as he brings me to orgasm again.

  Looking up at me, he wipes his mouth with a grin.

  “Cam,” I breathe, “it’s my turn. I want to kiss you . . . down there.”

  His grin is wicked and he flops on his back, his cock sticking straight up in the air.

  The sight of him like this flames my need. “I’m going to eat you all up, and after you come all over your belly, I want to slide on top of you and roll around in your desire.”

  And that’s exactly what I do.

  An hour after waking, we are both beyond spent and sated.

  Looking down at myself, slick and tender and swollen, I inhale sharply. “I think I’m going to ache for days.”

  His voice gentler than it has been, his hand cups my sex, gently caressing it. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  I turn to look over at him. “I’m sure you will.”

  As we pant and lie there trying to recover, I cuddle up to him, kiss his lips, and feel his skin, hot and hard, against mine. We share a connection that I hope never breaks. No matter what happens.

  He’s quiet for a moment, then softly, tenderly, says, “Everything is going to be okay, Makayla.”

  There’s an ache in my chest that I want to rip out of me, but it’s so deep, I could tear my heart out and it would still be there.

  It’s guilt.

  What if . . . I am pregnant?

  What if . . .

  The what ifs are back.

  I rest my head on his chest and revel in his scent.

  A knock on my door has me jumping up.

  I must have fallen asleep.

  I look at the time—eight in the morning.

  “Makayla,” Maggie calls.

  I look down at Cam, who is just waking again as well.

  “Come in,” I tell her, pulling the sheet and comforter up and over us.

  The door opens and she’s standing there with Noah, her new boyfriend, right behind her.

  “What’s going on, Mags?” I ask.

  In her striped tank top and Christmas tree shorts, she rushes to the bed with her phone in her hand. “You have to see this.”

  I blink a few times and reach for my glasses on my nightstand. “By any chance can you show me later?”

  Shoving her phone in my face, she sits beside me. “No. This cannot wait.”

  Cam lies there and watches us, slightly amused.

  I put my glasses on and take her phone. On it is a picture of Sasha Gomez on the red carpet in a sleek black dress, and the necklace and bracelet she is wearing are my designs. They are circled, and my name is printed in the middle of it. I look at her. “Oh, my God, those are mine.”

  Happy as pie, she shrieks, “You’re famous! You’re famous!”

  Cam sits up. “Let me see that.”

  I hand him the phone. He gives a low whistle.

  “Noah.” Maggie snaps her fingers.

  In a pair of heart-covered boxers, he strides over to Maggie with her laptop in his hand and gives it to her. She takes it. Hits a few keys and shoves it toward me.

  With one hand holding the sheet up, I take it with the other. It’s the website order form that I created when I first arrived in Laguna, and there are over ten thousand orders in the “to be processed” box.

  No way.

  No way.

  No f . . . ing way.

  I think I might faint.

  Wait! Is that a symptom of pregnancy? If so, forget I thought that.

  “And,” Maggie says, hitting a few more keys, “these are messages from people. I hope you don’t mind, but I read a few. They’re from people inquiring about your next line. Can you believe it? Your next line! How cool is that?”

  Cam hands Maggie her phone and puts his head on my shoulder. “Holy fuck, that’s a lot of emails.”

  Just then my cell phone rings.

  I freeze as Cam reaches for it.

  I look at Maggie and give her back the laptop. “I need to take this. Let me get dressed and I’ll come downstairs.”

  She pops up. “Hurry up. I don’t have to be to work until ten and I want to read the emails with you. I’m so excited for you. You’re going to be the next Kendra Scott; I just know it.”

  Wow. Just wow.

  This is surreal.

  My cell is still ringing as Cam hands it to me. “Thanks, Mags,” I tell her and then answer the phone. “Hello.”

  My heart is beating out of my chest.

  This phone call might change my entire life.

  “Hi, Miss Alexander?”

  I put my phone on speaker. “Yes, this is she.”

  “This is Dr. Solomon’s office. We have your test results.”

  “Yes, what are they?” I suck in a breath.

  I can see Cam clenching the sheets.

  “The blood work came back negative. You’re not pregnant.”

  “But I’m almost ten days late, and I’m never late.”

  “The doctor understands that and attributes it to possible stress.”

  My job has been stressful in that, to be honest, I really don’t like it.

  “Thank you,” I tell her and we hang up.

  Cam looks incredibly relieved, and so I am. Someday I want to have a baby. Just not right now.

  “False alarm.” I smile at him. “Looks like TLC will have to wait for their new Jon & Kate Plus 8.”

  Cam doesn’t find my humor very funny.

  Not at all.

  CAM

  I NEVER THOUGHT I’D BE more than happy to say my girl is on the rag, but my girl is on the rag.

  F
inally, Makayla got her period yesterday.

  Twelve days late.

  Because of our scare, she and I have decided to go back to using condoms for a while and I promised to find the best choices for her.

  Thinking she might be pregnant was a stressful time, but it kicked me into gear. Time to get back on track. Get my head in the game, and all that shit.

  That is, if I can.

  I’m worried about the hows, wheres, and whats to do. I’m worried about making a wrong decision. I’m worried about blowing my trust fund and having nothing.

  Today is my day off, but instead of working on my own plan, I spent the first part of the morning doing what I always do on my days off—talking to some of the guys who own local businesses and helping them assess their issues.

  When I get back home, I start to get this itch, like it’s my time.

  Kicking into gear, I grab my laptop and start to do some research, punch some numbers, and try to figure out if what I have in mind is the right move.

  I want to buy my first company, but I’m not sure the one I’m looking at is the right choice. I make a quick call and plan to visit the company tomorrow. I think I’ll see if Brooklyn wants to tag along, because he knows the area well.

  Pushing away from the table, I look around my kitchen and rub my hands on my shorts. All of a sudden I’m feeling a lot of pressure for no fucking reason at all. I think I need a break, so I decide to take a walk on the beach.

  Trekking through the sand, I find myself breathing in and exhaling the salt air. Being inside for all those hours has worn on me. Looking out into the clear blue of the water, I feel a little better now. Out of nowhere I have an urge to hit the waves, so after I change into my wet suit, I grab my board.

  There’s a weightlessness that exists as I move quickly—up and down, hovering over the water. I gain speed and it’s thrilling, exhilarating, liberating even. When I break through its ledge, I position myself on the peak. It’s large and hollow and I have to move forcefully to stop from getting caught in the lip, but I do it and just like that, I’m riding the best fucking wave.

  The sun rises higher off in the horizon and there’s a haze hanging in the air as I enfold myself inside the wave’s whorl. I look ahead and can’t help thinking that for the first time in the past year, I’m focused, I have no doubts, and I know what I want to do.