by J. Daniels
“Yes,” she answered, no hesitation.
I closed my eyes for a beat, then I slid my hands under her shoulders and rolled us, getting to my back and pulling her so she was lying half on my chest and half plastered to my side. I slid my hand down her back to palm her ass and hitched her leg over my hip with the other, keeping hold there.
Tori’s fingers traced a pattern on my ribs as she pressed her cheek to my chest.
“I’m pretty traditional, Jamie. I’d like to get married first,” she proclaimed.
I smiled at the top of her head.
“Beach wedding. Firm on that, too,” I told her, curious as to what she would say to that.
I felt Tori’s quiet laughter rattle in her chest and against my side. Her fingers stilled, then she turned her head and planted her chin on my chest, meeting my gaze.
“Fine,” she said, surprising the shit out of me as she lifted her head to speak. “But we’re sticking to a dry honeymoon. I’m talking desert conditions. And Jamie?”
My body was shaking with laugher. I stopped so I could answer her, asking through a grin, “Yeah, babe?”
Tori crawled higher up my body and got in my face, plastering her tits to my chest and touching noses with me.
“I’m firm on that,” she proclaimed. “Real firm.”
Grinning still, I tipped my chin up, watching her own mouth start lifting.
“Give me a kiss, Legs,” I ordered.
She gave me a kiss.
It started slow and sweet but my hand on her ass starting gripping and then my other joined in as Tori moaned inside my mouth and fuck it. I pulled her thigh so she was popping up to straddle my hips, breaking away and breathing heavy. “Want you ridin’ me this time,” I shared. “Keep those gorgeous fuckin’ tits in my face, and when I tell you, babe, get your mouth on me. I’m finishin’ on your tongue.”
Tori nodded as she tried getting control of her own breathing, then she put her weight on her knees and reached between us, positioning me. She slid down.
Three orgasms later, her two to my one, Tori passed out with her limbs curling around me and her face nuzzling my neck.
We never bothered cleaning up that time either.
I relished the feel of her while thinking about everything she was wanting to give, then an hour later, I finally dozed off.
I never slept better.
* * *
It was the next day, nearly noon, and I was standing inside Wax, looking at the new shipment of T-shirts we’d got in with the Rivera Frozen Foods branding on the back.
Turned out, being sponsored by Tori’s family was pretty kick-ass. Her dad was cool as shit about it, coming down here a couple of times now to check out Wax and talk to me about what all I needed from them and what all they needed from me.
My other sponsors never stepped foot inside where I worked. Not once. It was more about my name and how I could benefit them. What the fuck did they care about me owning a surf shop? They weren’t getting anything out of that.
Not John, though. He cared. Wasn’t shy about letting me know that either.
I didn’t need them to do anything for me, and I told him that. Being sponsored was never about what all I could get out of companies. I just cared about surfing. Someone wanted to back me and put my face on their products or give me shit for free? That was up to them. I never asked for it. John understood how I felt about it and said they would support me in any way I needed. He was honored to be backing me and that meant a lot.
Straight up, though, being that it was Tori’s family and knowing how much this meant to her, knowing how fucking huge this was, I was the one who felt honored.
It was why I was staring at another shipment of T-shirts advertising them and why the boards I used were now detailed with their logo.
Tori got a huge fucking kick out of that.
“Can’t believe how these things are selling,” Cole commented, stepping up beside me after I’d opened up the boxes. “Seriously, I’m pretty sure you could put a hemorrhoid cream logo on a tee and triple their sales.”
I slapped his shoulder, grinning. “Leave that one to you, man,” I said. “You should reach out and see if they’re looking to sponsor.”
“Right,” Cole chuckled. “They’d probably fucking pass. And my luck, that shit would get around. I’d never get laid again.”
We shared a laugh, then the bell chimed behind us, indicating someone was stepping inside the shop. I turned my head and watched Tori walk inside.
She was wearing a sweater that dipped low in the front and showed some of her cleavage—all fucking class, though—tight faded jeans that had tears up the front of one thigh, and black knee-high boots. Her jeans were tucked into them. Her hair was half up out of her face, except for those pieces that always fell out and wouldn’t stay behind her ears. Her eyes were lined black. Her lips were painted red. And she was smiling big at me as she lifted her hand to wave.
“’Sup, babe?” I greeted her, turning sideways so I could see her better. “Got the shirts in. Perfect timing.”
“Oh, good!” She clapped her hands together and started walking over. “I told Dad they were set to come in this week. I wanted to grab a couple for him and Mom.”
“Set you up with that,” I replied.
“I’m heading out. Gonna go grab something to eat,” Cole said. He turned and tipped his chin at Tori. “What’s up?”
“Hey,” she greeted him, smiling as he walked past.
“Later, man,” I called out.
“Later,” Cole replied, getting to the door. “See ya around, Tori.”
“See ya,” she said back, keeping her eyes on me.
Cole stepped outside.
“Hey, you,” Tori said, stopping in front of me. She rolled up onto her toes and tipped her chin up. “Kiss,” she requested.
I grinned at her, keeping my arms pulled across my chest and not bending down. “Fuck?” I countered.
Her head jerked back and her eyes widened. She grabbed my elbows for balance, informing me, “Syd and Brian did it on the desk in the office once.”
“Shit,” I muttered. “He christened the place before I did? What a dick.” I bent down then and kissed her soft mouth. “You look hot.”
“So do you,” she said through a smile, rocking back onto her heels but keeping her hands on me.
“Yeah? Wanna fuck?”
Tori swatted my arm and made a face, letting me know she was down but trying to cover that desire.
I chuckled.
“What size you want for your folks? I got ’em up to 2XL.”
She thought for a second, dropping her hands and leaning to look behind me. “I think Dad is down to an extra-large now. He’s lost close to twenty-five pounds.”
“That’s great, babe,” I replied, meaning that.
I knew how important getting his weight down was for his heart. Not just from Tori telling me, but from Travis mentioning it.
Tori looked at me again. Her mouth was lifted. “Yeah. I’m proud of him. I know it’s been hard. Mom is a medium. And she wanted to send my aunts both out a shirt. I think they’re larges.”
I jerked my chin, then I turned around and fished her out the sizes she needed.
“Got something for your dad in the back,” I said, handing her the shirts. “I’ll grab it for you. You meeting up with them today?”
“Yeah,” she answered. She held the shirts against her chest. “Dad has a follow-up with Travis at two and then we’re going to grab something to eat. It’ll be early, though, so I shouldn’t be home too late.”
“Take the time you need, babe. I’ll be there.”
“I know,” she said, eyes closing when I wrapped my hand around the back of her head and kissed the top of it.
“Lemme grab what I got for your dad so you can head out.”
“’Kay,” she replied. “I’ll browse.”
I chuckled, stepping back to look at her. “You don’t have enough Wax apparel?” I asked, ba
cking away.
Every time Tori came in here, she was leaving with a bag full. Fucking loved that. She was wanting to support me and wasn’t shy about showing it.
Tori made a gasping sound. “What? Never! I can always use more surf tees and booty shorts.” She smiled big, then spun around and started moving about the shop.
Booty shorts. Jesus fucking Christ.
I shook my head, laughing inside my chest, then I turned and headed for the office.
Once in there, I grabbed the hat with the Wax logo John was eyeing up last time he was in here—we were running low so I kept one in the back. Good thing, too, since we ran out last week and the next order wasn’t set to come until the end of the month.
Tori was standing at the counter when I made it back out into the shop again, head down and eyes focused on something. Her profile was tense.
“Babe.”
She looked up, meeting my gaze, and I saw the hurt in her eyes. I stopped at the edge of the counter.
What the fuck?
“Why wouldn’t you tell them about us?” she asked, turning to face me. “How could you not say anything, Jamie? I mean, really, you literally said nothing.”
“What?” Confused, I glanced down at the opened magazine she was standing in front of. Tori had her hand on a page. It was my interview with Rail. She’d read it. Or she at least read the question I’d dodged.
“I don’t answer questions like that, Legs. I told you,” I reminded her, tossing her dad’s hat on the counter next to the stack of shirts. “I’m there to talk about surfing. That’s it. They wanna forget that and try and get personal shit out of me, they’re gonna get those kind of answers.”
“You ‘no commented.’ That’s not an answer.”
“It’s my answer.” I shrugged. “Only one they’re gonna get, too.”
Tori blinked, mouth falling open as she looked down at the magazine. “How many people read this?” she asked, meeting my eyes again. “Ballpark. What do you think? Thousands?”
“Probably.”
“And how many times have we talked about claiming each other?”
I stared at her for a breath, seeing her seriousness and not understanding it, then I harshly wiped my hand down my face, shaking my head before gearing up to argue. “Babe, look—”
“I claimed you to my parents and to five strangers in a restaurant,” she interrupted. “And to everyone on my contact list, which I haven’t cleaned up in, I don’t know, months, so I’m sure there’s people on there I don’t even talk to anymore, but it didn’t matter. I wanted everyone to know, Jamie. I wanted a restaurant full of people. And you had opportunity to claim me in the most public way, the biggest way you could ever claim me, and you don’t.”
She was upset and angry, or she was at least getting there. Over this? What the fuck?
“Quit takin’ it personal, babe,” I said, hoping to squash this. “It’s ain’t personal. I don’t answer those questions. Never have.”
“Quit taking it personal?” she echoed, sticking her hands on her hips, cocking one and hitting me with daggers.
Jesus. She wasn’t letting me squash this. Tori was going to keep going.
“Come here,” I ordered, thinking if I got her in my arms, she’d let this go.
Tori shook her head, standing firm.
“Babe, come here.” My voice was sharper. Firmer.
“No.” Her voice shook with emotion.
I took a step toward her. She took a step back.
Jesus.
“I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t do it,” she said, losing some of that fire in her eyes. “You’re the one who’s been pushing us to claim each other this entire time. That was so important to you. And I wanted that. I wanted you to claim me to everyone, Jamie. That’s what made this real. I wasn’t your little secret. You weren’t hiding me like Wes did. But now, I don’t know, it kinda feels like you are.”
I drew my arms across my chest. “Legs, straight up, even if I did answer those questions, what the fuck would I have said?” I asked, growing irritated with this. “You wouldn’t admit to shit then. We were just fuckin’. You weren’t stakin’ claim to me. So what the fuck would I have said?”
Her eyes widened. “We were just fucking? Really? When you did that interview, that’s all we were doing? There was nothing else between us? What about that night when I came to you crying? When I could’ve gone to Syd, or anybody else, what about then? I guess that meant nothing, huh.”
My brow tightened. She was blowing this way the fuck out of proportion. “Babe, ease up on the attitude. You know what I meant.”
“I don’t need to ease up on anything, thank you very much,” she snapped, tipping forward. “You’re the one saying we were just fucking and there was nothing else going on between us when, clearly, that wasn’t the case. At least not for me. So thanks for that. Glad I finally know how you felt about it.”
I felt my jaw clench. My nostrils flared as I pulled in a breath. “You know how I feel about you,” I began, voice vibrating low in my throat. “I’ve told you. I’ve always told you. Never kept nothin’ from you, even when the only fuckin’ thing you admitted to likin’ about me was my cock, babe. And still, even gettin’ that was like pullin’ teeth. I’ve been claimin’ you since the fuckin’ beginning, and now you’re gettin’ pissy over some stupid interview I did when practically every motherfucker in Dogwood Beach knows I’m in love with you? What the fuck? Are you on your period or somethin’?”
She had to be. Getting on my case over nothing? This was bullshit.
Tori inhaled sharply through her nose. She straightened up. “No, I’m not on my period,” she hissed.
“You about to get it?”
Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t answer.
“Take that as a yes,” I murmured.
“Okay.” She shook her head, looking exacerbated. “You know what? Maybe I could have seen your point, but now you’re just being really rude.”
“Get over it. You’re bein’ emotional over shit that means absolutely nothin’.”
“It means something to me, you dick.”
“Easy, Legs,” I warned. “You wanna stand there and run your mouth at me, you better have a damn good reason for it, and right now, you don’t.”
“Oh, is that right?” Her brows shot up. “I don’t have a damn good reason right now?”
“Nope.”
“I was excited to read that interview. I couldn’t wait to read it. And yes, I was hoping and maybe expecting you to mention something about us in there because I thought for sure you would, and you didn’t. And it hurt my feelings. Okay? I was hurt, Jamie. And you don’t seem to care at all. You’re just being an asshole about it.”
“You’re hurt over somethin’ stupid,” I affirmed. “And I’m not bein’ an asshole. I’m just givin’ it to you straight.”
She blinked, mouth falling open. “Wow. Thanks.” She shook her head. “Thanks a lot. I’m glad how I feel matters to you.” Sarcasm dripped from her tongue. Legs glared at me, lips curling in disgust but also trembling, like she was on the verge of either clawing my eyes out if I got any closer or bursting into tears.
Christ. She drove me fucking crazy.
“Blowin’ up over nothin’. Puttin’ somethin’ this stupid between us. That’s fucked up,” I shared, needing to make sure Tori knew she was wrong. “I don’t got nothin’ to apologize for. I told you how it is.”
“Yeah, you did. And you know what?”
“What?”
“Fuck you,” she hissed.
“Fuck me?” My brows shot up. “Fuck me? What the fuck? Fuck you!” I roared.
“You should care about how I feel, and you don’t!” she yelled. “You should care that I’m upset about this. So fuck you. For that stupid interview, and for not knowing this is a damn good reason. I’m going home.” Tori turned on her heel and made for the door, leaving her shirts behind.
My jaw was clenched so tight it fucking ached.
She was going home. I knew what that meant—her home. Not mine.
This was complete bullshit.
“Legs, swear to Christ, woman, if you don’t get your ass back over here and get over this shit, I’m lettin’ you leave. And babe…” I met her eyes when she craned her neck around to glare at me. “You walk out that door and I ain’t followin’ you.”
Tori paused, hand flat on the glass, looking back at me with rage burning in her eyes. She wasn’t wearing that hurt anymore. She was pissed. And I knew what that meant, too.
Hurt might’ve kept her here. But that anger was driving her out.
I watched Tori push through that door and walk. And I didn’t follow. Said I wouldn’t, and I didn’t.
Chest heaving, teeth clenched, and muscles locking up, I dropped my arms and turned toward the counter, bracing my hands there. I looked from the stack of shirts piled next to the register to the open copy of Rail.
Then I stared. Until I couldn’t fucking take it anymore.
“Fuck!” I roared, sweeping my arms across the counter and clearing it. Shirts. Her dad’s hat. Even the fucking register. Everything went flying. I didn’t give a shit.
She walked. And I let her.
Chapter Twenty-five
TORI
Groaning, I closed the kitchen cabinet and dropped my head on the door with a thump. I shut my eyes.
No. I wouldn’t do it. I refused to eat another Pop-Tart for lunch. I had one for breakfast. Two, actually. That was all the pathetic I could handle for one day. I still had my limits.
Padding into the living room, I collapsed onto the couch and fell sideways, tucking my knees against my chest.
For showing purposes, my house was still fully furnished. Thank God. I had taken most of my personal items to Jamie’s—clothes, bathroom items, some favorite things I didn’t want to leave behind, such as my Christmas quilt. And when I left, I brought all of those things back with me.
It was as if I had never moved out.
Nine days. It had been nine days of no contact with Jamie. No calls. No texts. No middle-of-the-night lock picking.
I was a miserable mess.
