by S. E. Harmon
He understood that strange feeling that came over you when you went to the places you’d gone before, doing the things you’d done before, and nothing felt the same…mostly because you weren’t the same, and you never would be. Losing someone you loved did something to your soul. It changed who you were irrevocably, and I had to say, not for the better.
What were some of those lovely phrases people always loved to say? Life goes on. Move on. Everyone has to die. All helpful, true things that I had no real response to, mostly because I found it impossible to articulate why my insides felt like they were restructured differently, because it was hard to breathe. Why I took refuge in humor because sometimes reality was a little too hard. Looking at Jackson right then, I knew I didn’t have to say anything.
Because he got it.
That rat bastard.
His voice was soft enough to barely disturb the silence. “AJ, what is it you want?”
I would have told him anything at that moment. And then, because there was only one thing you could do when you’ve told someone all your secrets, I’d have to stuff his body in the trunk over there in the corner that still held the majority of Lane’s Cabbage Patch dolls.
What did I want? I wanted him, and now, it wasn’t even all sexual. And that was terrifying.
I closed the album and stuck it on top of a teetering stack with the others. I cleared my throat. “Right now? I want to get out of this stuffy attic and do something fun.” I stood, dusting off my jeans briskly, and then held out my hand to help Jackson up. “I’m supposed to be showing you a good time.”
He raised an eyebrow at my outstretched arm. “I’m fine.”
“I’m not,” I admitted, my voice a little higher than usual.
He stared at me for a moment as the silence stretched on, elastic and expressive. I saw the exact moment he realized I was done sharing for the day as his mouth quirked on one side. He accepted my outstretched hand, and I helped pull him to his feet. The simple touch of his hand in mine didn’t help dispel the tension in the air. And I couldn’t help thinking about his casual offer.
It would certainly help clear my mind. A couple hours of thinking about nothing else but the feel of his body against mine, sweaty skin sliding against sweaty skin…being held down by his weight on me, with the sound of his harsh breathing in my ear. I dropped his hand quickly, and looked away as he stretched that long, lean body.
And the flutter in my stomach was back. You will not have sex in the attic. You will not. It wasn’t quite as good a mantra as nam-myoho-renge-kyo, but maybe if I repeated it enough, I’d stop picturing it.
“So what’s next?” he asked.
“You ever been paddle boarding?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Then that’s what we’re doing.”
“Sounds fun.” He headed for the ladder. “Should we tell the others?”
I thought about it for a minute before deciding that yes, I could be magnanimous. I would rescue the people from Irene’s charades-a-palooza. “Yeah, they might like to come.”
“Might?” He grinned. “Art was two minutes from chewing off his own arm. You want the room first or me?”
“First?” I blinked. “For what?”
“To change.”
Oh. I stood there, slightly flummoxed. I’d forgotten that paddle boarding meant seeing Jackson in swim trunks, that ode to six pack abs on display. Hmph. Suffice to say, I’d certainly had better ideas.
Realizing he was still waiting for an answer, I smiled weakly. “You go first.”
As he disappeared down the ladder, I began stacking the photo albums back in the boxes I’d pulled them from. I’d still take Mount Abs over cute, shy guy in the attic any day. Anything was better than sitting here together, knee to knee in the overheated attic, dust motes floating around our faces, surrounded by my memories and quieted by his understanding gaze. AJ, what do you want? Not that. That guy was addictive. Understanding. A destroyer.
Suddenly, Jackson’s head popped back up through the hole. “You have any sunscreen?”
“In my purse, I think.”
He gave me a thumbs up and descended again.
Oh goody. The mental image altered itself just that quickly, and now those fantastically cut abs were glistening with sunscreen. I sighed.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I changed quickly to get in a few minutes of sun, but it was dusk by the time I came out. The usually welcome beach breeze was now a slight chill, and the sky was deep blush with hints of purple. From our deck, the waves looked strong, and the surf a little choppy. Not exactly prime conditions to teach someone how to paddleboard. And while losing Jackson in the surf would solve my inconvenient crush, I wasn’t quite ready to go to such extreme measures. Yet.
As I made my way down the winding trail, Lane threw a hand up to wave me down. Music floated up from the beach, some Maroon 5 piping from a Bluetooth speaker. She’d staked out a section of beach that seemed relatively unpopulated, and set up a pretty nice impromptu bonfire. Bree and Britney were swimming with Rick, alternatively shrieking and laughing as they dunked one other in the surf.
By the time I strolled up, Jackson was getting briefed by Art on paddleboard safety. He was listening so intently, I almost expected him to start taking notes, and it was a lot cuter than it should have been.
I tried not to stare, but…well, come on. If it was wrong to stare at six feet and two inches of well-toned, honey-colored muscle in a pair of navy board shorts, then lock me up. Throw away the key. Well, put him in the cell with me first, then throw away the damn key.
“Hey,” I said as I picked up the pink paddleboard and a graphite paddle. We never had designated paddleboards—first come, first serve—and I always loved it when I was early enough to get the pink one.
“Hey.” Jackson glanced over instinctively and then back at Art. Then back at me. “Hey,” he repeated for no reason at all, mouth a little open.
I hid a grin, a little gratified that he seemed speechless by my attire. It was nothing scandalous—I was with my family, for God’s sake—but the black bikini certainly showed more skin than I was used to showing. He certainly seemed to be enjoying his eyeful. I was pretty sure the thin gold pave chain around hanging between my breasts wasn’t that interesting.
“So which one do you want?” Art said, for the third time.
Jackson finally snapped to, his cheeks coloring in embarrassment. “Um, I’m not picky,” he muttered. He took the sand-encrusted paddleboard from Art, handling the eight-foot board like it weighed nothing at all. “What’re these lights on the bottom?”
“NightSUPS. Waterproof, high-intensity LEDs.” I pointed to the same lights on the bottom of mine. “They look really awesome when it’s dark.”
“What if sharks are attracted to these neon lights?”
“They aren’t,” I said, trying not to grin. “Besides, they’d have to explain who they paid off to airlift them into this area.”
“But what if they are?”
Finally, the grin broke through. “Then I hope they like green.”
He looked down in puzzlement as Art guffawed. When Jackson spotted the green light emitting from under his board, he scowled. “Very funny.”
“It sure will be.” Art did the Jaws theme fairly credibly while I laughed.
Even Jackson had to grin at that one. “Maybe we should forget paddle boarding so you guys can do open mic night.”
“I work alone,” Art declared, tucking his board under his arm. “You guys ready?”
Jackson huffed out a breath. “As I’ll ever be.”
Art lifted an eyebrow at me. “Did he sign the waiver?”
I shook my head. “We’ll have to forge it after. You know. In case something…happens.”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure I hate you both.”
The water was cold as we slogged through the surf. The sand shifted pleasantly under my feet as I walked, and when
we were about calf height, I slapped my board flat on the water and mounted easily.
I was looking forward to Jackson flopping around a bit on the board, but I had to let go of that dream pretty quickly. After we paddled out a bit, he had two shaky aborted tries to stand before he finally bit the bullet and rose up smoothly. Art and I helped him adjust his stance, and his naturally athletic nature took care of the rest. Before long, he was paddling like an old pro.
“How do you like it?” I asked, my paddle cutting smoothly through the water.
“I’m really starting to enjoy this laid-back beach vibe.” He grinned. “All that’s missing is a bong.”
On the upstroke, I flicked water lazily in his direction. “Just wait. Uncle Charley will be here pretty soon.”
He laughed incredulously. “He doesn’t.”
“He does,” Art confirmed. “His van smells like a kush factory.”
Jackson let out a surprised bark of laughter. “A van, too? Tell me, does he enjoy being a walking, talking stereotype?”
I shrugged. “Far as I can tell.”
I’d forgotten how much of a workout it was. I knew in the morning, there wouldn’t be a part of me that wasn’t aching. But that was tomorrow, and this was now. Art headed back to shore after a half hour or so to grill, but Jackson and I decided to keep going. We didn’t try to achieve any distance, keeping the shore well-within sight. The waves had calmed and stilled, and the neon lights shone on the dark water like our boards had phosphorescent tails. It was quiet. Peaceful. Beautiful.
Before long, Rick and Lane swam out to meet us, demanding their turn on the boards. Jackson relinquished his board to Rick like a gentleman, but I wanted no part of it.
“Your turn is up,” Lane said, giving my board a shake.
“Stop it,” I said sternly, trying not to laugh. We’d had this argument many times before, usually with our mother breaking it up with a few words. The words would depend on the level of her annoyance. A mild “girls” if we were being mischievous. A stronger “young ladies” if we were being irritating. And if we were really on her nerves and we were going to get it when we got home? She’d usually shout, “You two!”
“Give it!” Lane demanded.
“I want five more minutes.”
“You already had it long enough.” She gave it another shake and I pitched forward a bit. “Don’t be such a brat.”
“I’ll give it to you,” I swore. “Give me a sec—”
Her last shake had me toppling off in a great splash and I went under. I came up with a sputter, pushing a mass of dark hair out of my eyes as she grinned. Rick held the board still for her like a good hubby as she clambered on.
But not so fast. I held up the paddle triumphantly. “Think you might need this?” And because I was a good sister, I only made her chase me for five minutes for the paddle, while Jackson and Rick laughed helplessly.
She middle fingered me as she and Rick paddled off, and I shouted, “Love you, too!”
Jackson and I took our time swimming for shore, stopping every now and again to tread water and conserve energy. What had taken only a few minutes by paddleboard was a hell of a lot longer when swimming.
“Tired?” Jackson’s voice sounded near, and I looked over to find him treading water next to me.
“Little bit. It’s been a while since I’ve been out here.” I held my head to the side to clear out the water and gave it a dog-like shake. “My legs and arms feel like noodles.”
“You? What about me?” He made a noise in his throat. “I think I threw out my back on that damn paddleboard.”
I grinned. “Worth it though, right?”
He laughed. “Yeah. Although I think I’ve tempted the fates enough. Haven’t been attacked by a shark, so I’ll be happy to reach shore.”
“Sharks don’t really like the taste of us, you know. If anything, it would be a test bite,” I assured him.
“A test bite from a shark equals a good part of my thigh. No thanks.”
“Jeez, what is your obsession about sharks?”
“Not everyone was raised as a dolphin, AJ.” His face grew solemn. “I was attacked once. It was a long time ago, but it’s still so…fresh. Hard to stop thinking about it, you know?”
My eyes grew wide. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He pushed wet hair back from his forehead and showed me a tiny white scar near his hairline. “But I barely made it out alive.”
“What happened?”
“We had this summer beach house in this little seaside community. The sheriff knew there was a shark out there, but no one believed him. Certainly not us kids.” He gave me a sad smile. “We were caught out on our sailboats when the shark attacked. Got me right here with a beam from the sailboat.”
My brain kicked in as I looked away from his “battle scar” to his twitching mouth and I had to grin. “Bastard. I happened to see Jaws too, you know. What’s the scar really from?”
“Jules pushed me out of a treehouse.” He grinned. “But damn, you were almost ready to take up a collection for me.”
“I would have found out,” I groused.
He laughed. “Before or after you led a rousing rendition of ‘Heal the World?’”
God, I was getting a little addicted to that laugh. Especially the way it made his eyes dance when he’d thought of something clever to say.
It was strange, but when I was with Jackson, I wasn’t thinking about memories. I was all too happy to be caught up in the moment. With him. Right now, that moment was under the watchful gaze of the moon, the faint sounds of acoustic guitar filtering up from the beach. Lost in my own thoughts, it was a moment before I realized he was looking intently at me, too.
“You’re staring at me,” I finally said, grateful for the relative darkness, mostly so he couldn’t see the flush in my cheeks.
His eyes were amused as he cocked his head. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”
I couldn’t come up with a thing. Must have been all that sea air addling my brain. That was the only explanation I had for my hands moving without my express approval, and sliding forward to cup his wet jaw in my palms. There was a moment of shared, breathless silence, his eyes steady on mine. Your move, they seemed to say.
So I kissed him. Gently. Carefully. My lips teased his, making sure we were on the same page in the dirty book in my mind. There was a moment of hesitation, a moment of startled surprise as I nipped at his bottom lip, saying without words what I wanted him to do.
A soft groan escaped his throat as he slid a hand through my water-slicked hair and tightened almost painfully. He took control of the kiss, adjusting the angle exactly how he wanted it, and when it was to his satisfaction, he deepened the kiss, forcing my mouth open fully.
He always tasted so…fucking good… indescribably good, and as his tongue sucked at mine, I felt like I might never get enough. And there was that familiar, slow burn, low in my belly, arousal working its way through my veins. My senses were on overload—touch, taste, smell, and then sound as a low groan came from his throat.
I wished I could say I was swept away by a tide of passion and lust, so much so that I was incoherent, unable to make rational decisions. But I knew exactly what I was doing, my skin hyper aware to his every touch. I knew exactly when his hands began to wander, and where they were going. I wanted him to. Hell, I wanted him to go faster. And when his hand finally slid in my bikini bottom, I bit my lip to keep from crying out in relief.
A playful shriek penetrated the dull fog that lust had draped over my mind, and I pulled away instinctively. Lane and Rick were laughing and splashing one another in the distance, and I blinked, trying to will my brain to work properly again. Loosened from his strong, sure hold, I immediately began to tread water again, putting a few more feet between us as I pushed backward.
I stared into beautiful hazel eyes blinking at me in wide-eyed surprise, surrounded by long, dark, water-laden lashes probably longer than my own. H
is mouth was swollen and well-kissed, and I didn’t know whether I was more shocked that I’d kissed him like that, or that I wanted to do it again. I unconsciously ran my tongue over my lips, tasting salty and cool ocean water. His gaze dropped to my mouth.
The rippling waves pushed us even further apart, and I didn’t fight the wishes of the tides.
“Sorry,” I murmured.
He swiped wet hair back from his face and out of his eyes. “Generally, that’s not what I like to hear after a kiss.”
“Yeah? What do you like to hear?”
“I have no preference, as long as it’s heavy with sexual innuendo.”
We stared at each other for a moment in silence. The slight twitch of his mouth as he tried not to smile set me off, and he wasn’t long after. We cracked up for no reason at all, laughing like a pair of loons.
When he pulled me in for another kiss, I went willingly. God, I was so tired of over-thinking my attraction to this man. When we broke for air, he rested his forehead against mine, and we shared a few breaths.
“I think your brother is cooking something on the grill.”
I pulled back a little, sending him a squinty-eyed look. “Note for the future? Don’t talk about my brother when your lips are on mine.”
He grinned, flashing me that pearly white smile. “You have some strange rules, AJ.”
“You think I’m strange?” I asked indignantly.
“I know you’re strange,” he corrected.
“Do you normally kiss strange women?”
“You’re my first,” he promised.
So I did what any rational person would have done. I dunked him.
He didn’t come up sputtering, because that just wouldn’t be very Jackson, now would it? He came up like a graceful seal, water pouring off his slicked-back hair and shoulders like rain as he swiped at his eyes. When he could finally see my grinning visage, he pointed a warning finger at me, his eyes sparkling dangerously.
“You’re a brave woman, sticking around for the aftermath and all.”
“I do what I can.” I began backing up in the water, trying to move my arms inconspicuously.
