“I know,” I said, laughing and squeezing his arm. “Is it strange though? Do you think my reaction to being up here is weird?”
“Not at all. Before the start of every summer I would dread coming. I’d miss going to the movies, or seeing my nerdy friends or going to the mall. MTV, my computer, my Nintendo. I was young and desperate to be connected to the world in that way. And even though I loved my grandfather, my parents always told me the way he lived was different. Bizarre. So on the long drive up, every summer, I’d beg my parents to turn around,” he said, shifting another inch closer to me. “And I swear to you…within the first 36 hours it was as if my other life never even existed. And I’d hate leaving in the middle of August. Hated it. There’s an isolation up here, but it’s not bad necessarily. It’s one of the most beautiful places in the world and living here changes you. Irrevocably.”
I smiled, placing my hand on his arm and leaving it there.
He was quiet for a moment, studying me. I felt my cheeks heat.
“I hope you can keep this feeling with you when you leave,” he said. “When you go back to Los Angeles. Tomorrow.”
“Me too,” I said, trying not to think about it. Trying not to think beyond this perfect moment. “And actually—” I cleared my throat, suddenly nervous, “I just signed a big contract with a makeup company. In Paris.”
His eyebrows shot up his head. “Really? Lucia, that’s amazing.”
“Yeah. It is,” I said. “For two years I’ll be the face of Dazzle Cosmetics.” I did a jazz-hands thing over my face and Cal laughed.
“What does being ‘the face’ of a cosmetics company entail?”
“Oh, millions of ads. Commercials, billboards, being in magazines. I’ll be moving to Paris actually. To fulfill the contract.”
His face lost a little of its brightness, and I reached over to touch his knee. “It’s okay. I’ll be back,” I said, although I wasn’t sure who I was soothing: Calvin or myself.
“Oh yeah,” he said, looking embarrassed. “I wasn’t…I mean, what do I care? Are you excited?”
“I am,” I said, ignoring that strange sensation that kept popping up. “This is the kind of thing that takes a modeling career to the next level. You know, make me even more famous.” I liked to brag about these things online, tease Josie about it. But suddenly, facing Calvin, I felt vain and shallow. “Opportunity of a lifetime,” I finished, glancing at my nails.
Cal cleared his throat, picking up a book and flipping through it. “I’ll, um…I was joking before. I’ll kind of miss you. I mean, everyone, really. Having a bunch of Hollywood celebrities up here has been the most excitement we’ve had in decades.”
Calvin was so fucking cute and there was a fire and a storm outside and absolutely no one around. “I’ll miss you too,” I said, because the why the fuck not? After tomorrow I’d never see him again anyway. “I’m just happy you finally started paying attention to me.”
“Are you serious?” he asked, incredulous. “You think I’ve been ignoring you?” He was half-laughing and I joined in.
“Either you’ve been ignoring me or you’re the most respectful man I’ve ever met,” I said. “I basically walked around naked for days and you barely looked up from your book.” I slid closer, pressing my leg against his. He pressed back.
He blushed deeply, looking away. “I looked a couple of times,” he said softly.
I watched that lust come into his gaze again. God, I was hungry for that.
“I remember,” I said. “But other than those very few times, what’s your excuse?”
“I didn’t…I didn’t want to be like every other guy. You know, slobbering over you. Staring at you like some kind of object.”
“Oh Calvin,” I laughed bitterly. “I’m a model. By definition I’m an object,” I said, something I used to feel a lot more comfortable with. Now the words were like sand in my mouth.
“You’re not, though,” he said. “Not to me.” He was staring at my lips.
The rain was coming down in sheets now, the fireplace making me feel warm and wanton. And this was not part of the plan. The plan was: land a huge makeup contract. Finish out a provocative photo shoot for Shay Miller’s new clothing line. Fly to Paris, begin initial stages of world domination.
But really, what fucking plan? What future? There was just me and Cal, alone in a beautiful bookstore, surrounded by miles and miles and miles of forest. I lifted my sweatshirt over my head, tossing it. Underneath I was wearing a plain white tank top and I could feel my nipples hardening under Cal’s hungry look. I watched his throat as he swallowed.
“Can I read you a poem?” I asked.
◊
CALVIN
“Please,” I said, my mouth suddenly dry. This past week I’d seen Lucia in dozens of “sexy” outfits—had even almost seen her naked multiple times.
But right now, she was captivating. Her blonde hair was half-falling out of its messy bun. Without makeup caked on, her eyes were brighter, clearer. It was obvious, seeing her work on set, that she was famous for a reason. I watched her hold still for so long she looked like a wax statue, bend her body into strange shapes while arranging her face to look flawless. But she never seemed happy.
Tonight, holed up in this bookstore with me, she radiated a quiet joy.
Lucia curled up at my side, grabbing a copy of Pablo Neruda: The Sonnets. She was flirting with me. For real this time. And the sight of her nipples against her white shirt had my cock hard instantly.
“This used to be a favorite of mine,” she said, clearing her throat. “Neruda was one of the first romantic poets I’d ever read. His words are so sensual. So tangible. I used to dream of having a boyfriend who’d say things like this to me.”
“Did you?”
“No, of course not,” she said, grinning.
“And what about now? Have you ever dated someone who said romantic things to you?” I asked, caring about the answer more than I wanted to admit.
She thought for a moment, tugging on a wayward strand of hair. “I don’t think so. I mean, I think they thought they were being romantic. But Neruda…,” she paused, fingers dancing down the page. “There’s such a depth to what he feels for the woman he loves. The words he uses are so…carnal? But he’s also cherishing her.”
“He’d do anything for her,” I said, suddenly understanding that Neruda must have had a woman in his life like Lucia Bell.
“Yes,” she said simply, gazing at me. Then she flushed lightly, looking away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing…I just got nervous. You, watching me read this.”
I smiled, covering my eyes with my hand. “Do you want me to close my eyes?”
She laughed, pulling my hand away. “No, no…it’s okay. I’ve walked on a runway in front of ten thousand people. Pretty sure I can read this poem to you.”
Lucia cleared her throat. “Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of our steps.” A pause as she let the words sink in. “I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest.”
Her voice was low and heated, the look on her face euphoric as she read. The fireplace pulsed a golden light around her. I thought she was quite possibly the loveliest thing I’d ever seen.
“I like the phrase savage harvest,” I said, mesmerized as she placed her hand on my chest.
“It’s the hard consonants,” she said softly. “Very erotic.” She slowly dragged the palm of her hand down my chest.
“Liquid measure of our steps,” she repeated, her lips rolling around the beautiful words.
“He’s starving for her,” I said.
“The best kind of hunger,” she whispered. She caressed my stomach, fingers inching towards my cock.
“Lucia—” I warned, but her fingers kept drifting. Lower and lower.
“Have you ever been that hungry? For a woman?” she asked, running one long finger up the length of my cock.
&n
bsp; “Yes,” I said through gritted teeth as she gripped me fully. A breathy moan escaped her lips, her eyes widening.
I grabbed her wrist, stilling her. With my other hand, I cupped the back of her neck roughly.
“What are you doing?” My eyes locked on that full lower lip of hers. I’d wanted to bite it from the first moment I met her.
“Touching you,” she whispered. “Feeling you.”
She lowered her mouth closer to mine, tempting. I held her wrist harder, stroking my thumb across her lips. She sighed.
“Kiss me,” she said. She licked the tip of my thumb.
“No,” I said, my hands slipping back to thread into her hair. Her eyes searched mine.
“Why not?” she said. The wind roared outside, thunder in the distance. Danger.
“I’m not—” I started to say, but then she crushed her full lips against mine and it was fucking perfect.
I didn’t know what was happening, couldn’t believe that Lucia Bell was kissing me, couldn’t imagine why a supermodel was sitting half-across my lap, but within seconds every bit of self-doubt in my brain was demolished by the pure carnal need of that kiss.
The shy nerd in me tried to take it slow, to linger on her lips. I backed off a little, teasing. Softer, sweeter kisses that did nothing to satisfy the ache inside but followed the awkward narrative of my entire sexual life: be soft. Be sweet. Don’t dominate.
But then Lucia straddled me, pressing herself against my cock and there was no stopping my darker desires.
I took her mouth. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle.
I owned it, loving when she matched me, kiss for kiss, hungry and heated and raw and real. I swept my tongue between her lips forcefully and, god help me, she sucked on it. I growled against her, tightening my fingers in her hair and pulling back. She was breathing heavily, face flushed, lips already swelling.
“I’m not going to be able to control myself around you,” I said.
My fingers dug into the silky strands of her hair and pulled. Hard, harder than I intended, but I needed her to know. Needed her to understand. She gasped, but then her gaze turned ravenous. She lifted her palm from my cock and slowly placed it behind her back, my hand still gripping her wrist like a vise. Her other hand went too, and suddenly I was holding Lucia’s hands behind her back like a prisoner.
And she gave me a look so perfectly submissive, yet defiant, I knew that Lucia Bell was going to be my goddamn downfall.
“Maybe I don’t want you to,” she said.
◊
LUCIA
The world was falling apart around us.
Literally. The rain fell in sheets against the window, like millions of pebbles smacking against the glass. Wind whipped through tree branches, scraping the side of the store in long, ominous scratches. A huge roar, like a freight train, which must have been thunder or lightning or a fucking earthquake but who in the hell cared, because Calvin and I were wrapped around each other on the floor and I’d never felt so alive.
“This is why I fucking ignored you,” Cal said, holding my wrists tight in one hand. His other slipped beneath my shirt to press against my stomach. I sighed. “I just knew…” he said, stroking up towards my bare breasts, fingers caressing and stopping just below my aching nipples.
“Cal,” I moaned, trying to arch myself closer. He leaned forward, breathing in my scent. Pressing soft, gentle kisses up the side of my throat. And then I felt his teeth. He bit my neck. Fucking hard.
“I knew you’d bring out something in me,” he said against my ear, fingers still teasing below my nipples. “Something dangerous.”
“Yes, yes,” I sighed, loving his mouth on my ear. I wanted him to bite me again, keep marking every inch of my skin with his teeth. The roar was louder this time, and the floor of the bookstore rattled beneath us. Cal trailed his lips down my jaw. “That day in the woods, do you remember when I left?” Cal gave me a heart-stopping kiss, rough and quick.
“I missed you,” I said, loving the way his pupils darkened. “I wanted you to keep watching me. I was…I was getting off on it.” His fingers tightened on my wrists, the pain edging the pleasure. A look of hesitancy passed over his face—he was doubting himself for a moment. So I rocked against his cock, both of us groaning out loud, and then he yanked me back against him.
“Dirty girl,” he whispered and I smiled. How did he know?
“What did you do?” Those fingers continued to tease and I was this-close to begging.
“Jerked off. In the fucking woods. Because of you,” he growled against my ear. His fingers stroked downward, toward the top of my yoga pants and I shivered.
“Oh god,” I moaned, rocking steadily against him now. I couldn’t control it, could only think about Cal stroking himself to thoughts of me, the sounds he’d make when he’d come…
A shrill ring pierced the air, causing us both to jump. It rang again. And again, unrelenting.
Cal stopped, slowly lifting me from his lap and I swallowed a sob. “Cal, wait—” and the look he gave me was so sweet it made me ache. He pressed his lips against my forehead, my cheek, my lips.
“I’m so…please,” I begged, but wasn’t sure how to finish the question. So close for sure, already moments away from orgasm. But also so happy.
That ring again, and Cal winced.
“Stay here,” he said, standing. “That’s the emergency phone.” He huffed out a big breath, running his hand through his dark hair. “Lucia, I’m…that was…”
My heart was pounding, like a herd of elephants were stampeding across my chest, so loud I was sure Cal could hear it.
“Go,” I said. “We’ll talk later.” He turned, sliding through the door and I tried to make myself turn back into a normal human being.
◊
CALVIN
The ring wouldn’t stop, and as I walked towards it I could see how bad the storm had gotten. A few trees lay where they’d fallen, water ran in rivulets towards the edge of the forest, the sky a milky gray. I’d felt the earth quake beneath us but thought it was the heat of the moment.
“Yeah?” I said, picking up the phone.
I’d only heard this ring once, and that was the summer before my junior year of high school. Two large earthquakes in Sonoma County were causing freakishly large waves on the beaches of Big Sur. “A possible tsunami warning,” my grandfather had said, twinkle in his eye. I was fucking freaked out, imagining a wall of water sweeping the bookstore away, my grandfather and I trying to stay afloat on giant volumes of Keats’ poetry.
We’d stayed up most of the night, every so often sneaking out to the cliffs to watch the waves crash against the beach—an idiotic idea if a tsunami wave had come. It would have swept us away in an instant. But I never forgot that night, seeing the reverse-side of Big Sur’s magnificence—the supreme danger of nature when she’s angry. The way the waves rocked the shore I could picture, thousands of years ago, the way the water had carved away this beach, eroded the rocks into the very cliffs we were standing on. I spent the next two days reading Moby Dick and shivering, dreaming of monsters beneath the surface.
“It’s Gabe. Are you guys okay?”
“We’re fine, why?” I asked slowly. I was this close to having the most intense sexual encounter of my life, but other than that…
“There were two massive rockslides along Highway 1, one at the entrance to Big Sur and one on the way to San Luis Obispo.”
“Is anyone hurt?” I asked, staring outside and into the darkness. A rockslide. That must have been the roaring we’d heard.
“No, thank God. It missed Susan Davenport’s home by a few hundred feet. The Mayor’s home too.”
“Jesus.” Natural disasters were deeply felt here—there weren’t that many people, and emergency services had a hell of time getting out to such a remote location.
“Listen, you and I should be fine. Your grandfather had a huge stash of emergency food and water in that pantry and the bar does too. But you’ve got t
o let the Hollywood folks know they’re going to be stuck here for a bit. A few days, at least.”
I glanced back at the poetry room where Lucia stood, a goddess wrapped in blankets, concern on her face. I tried to ignore my willful heart, uplifted by the possibility she would be staying longer.
“They’re not going to be happy about that. For how long?”
“Not sure. Road crews have to get out there. But it’s enormous, Cal. I’d say at least five days.”
“Holy shit,” I said, which caused Lucia to look up at me in alarm. I pushed my glasses up my nose, shifting on my feet. She tilted her head and I shrugged. “And I’m guessing whatever cell or internet service we did have has been knocked out, right?”
“For a few days, yeah. You’ll deliver the information to everyone tonight?”
“Of course. The first cabin has an emergency phone—it’s Ray’s, I think. I’ll ring him, gather everyone together if it’s safe to walk over.”
There was a sharp knocking at the back door and then a crowd of people barged in, including Ray. Lucia clutched her chest, eyes wide, and then she scurried back into the Poetry Room to put on more clothing.
“Or maybe not,” I said, laughing. “They all just showed up.”
“One thing you should, uh, know,” Gabe said, clearing his throat. “Josie’s here. With me. The crew was drinking at the Bar tonight and she stayed. The night.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Well…okay, then. I’ll tell Lucia.”
“Please do. She knows Lucia will worry about her.”
“Are…congratulations in order?” I asked, and Gabe roared with laughter.
“Want to come up and drink with me? Soon? I’ll fill you in, as much as I can.”
I laughed too, a sharp ache in my chest. You’ll miss this. Because as terrifying as a rockslide is, San Jose had none of this community, this sense of connection. Back home, I had friends I gamed with but not friends like Gabe. I had bars I went to Happy Hour with co-workers but not The Only Bar in Town. If a rockslide happened in San Jose I’d read about it on Facebook and that’d be it.
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