by Kristi Rose
“Let me show you. I’m an action kinda girl. Less talky-talky, if you know what I mean.” I glue my body to his as I kiss my way up his throat and work my way to his mouth, where my initial light kiss gives way to something more fervent.
Eager to take this further, I fumble with the door handle, finally releasing the latch as we pull apart to catch our breath. We nearly tumble out through his door but Brinn’s quick reflexes right us.
Taking his hand, I silently lead him up the stairs and into my apartment. The soft kitchen lamp I left on gives the living space a warm and inviting glow, but this is not my preferred destination. Instead, I continue through the laundry room and out the garage entrance, which dumps us in the backyard.
I lead him to the pool and push him into a deck chair. The dewy air around is a mix of salty beach water and the fresh droplets from the river.
“Sit.”
Finding the matches on the table by touch alone, I light one hurricane lamp, then another, and finally a third before I come to stand in front of him.
“Jayne and I went to a place called the Ocean Deck and danced most of the night—.”
“The Deck,” he says.
“I beg your pardon?” I step closer.
“Locals call it the Deck. If you’re gonna live here might as well blend in.” He snakes out his hand to cup my calf, his thumb stroking the vines and flowers, causing my knees to wobble.
“Good to know. What I was saying is with all that dancing I worked up a good sweat and a refreshing swim would go a long way right now.” I lift my sweater over my head and toss it to the ground.
“Right now? You want to swim right now?” he asks while staring at my breasts. “Lord, those are magnificent.”
I step closer and stand in the space between his legs. “Can you help me with my bra?”
His gaze makes a leisurely journey from my chest to my face. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches behind me and deftly releases the clasp.
The smoothness of the move catches me off guard so I laugh. McRae’s skilled.
His lips twitch but go still when he returns his focus to my breasts.
The air is warm, as summer is in full force, yet my nipples gather as soon as his eyes drop to them.
“Jesus. I was going to tell you we shouldn’t do this again,” he says and bends to take one in his mouth.
“What a stupid idea that is.” The quiver in my voice belies my boldness, as one touch from him and I’m pliable, bending to his demands.
“I agree.” His head lowers, trailing kisses down my stomach before he dips his tongue in my belly button.
My shiver is joined by a moan as I make quick work unfastening the buttons on my shorts. I step back and he looks up at me with such longing and desire I feel like the center of the universe. After wiggling out of my shorts and underwear, I step back between his legs and straddle him. With our faces nearly touching, I flick out my tongue and lick his lower lip. He cups my rear with one hand and the back of my neck with the other and presses his lips to mine. Our tongues collide and I get lost in the haziness that is McRae and my sheer desire to be with him. To have him touch me. To exist.
It’s a kiss that sets the bar and when we pull back, we’re breathing heavily and my vision is blurry. I don’t want to do it right here.
Correction, I want to do it but not in the small deck chair when a larger one awaits us on the other side, so I gather what’s left of my wits and slide off his lap.
“I’m the luckiest S.O.B in the entire world. Either that or someone has sent you here to torture me.” He rakes a hand over his face.
“Come on, McRae.” I run my hands down his arms, stopping at his elbows to tug him toward the pool.
“What about your landlord?” He nods to the house.
“You just now thought of that?” I’m not surprised he’s having a hard time living in the moment. But it’s a good sign it’s taken him this long to ask the question.
He shrugs sheepishly. “You’re a bit distracting. Chaos.”
“I can be quiet if you can.” I pull him to his feet.
“We can take this back upstairs. That’s your place right?” He tugs me toward my apartment.
“Uh-huh. It’s here and it’s now.” I lift the hem of his T-shirt and with his help pull it over his head in one swift movement.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
Clearly, I need to amp up the distraction factor. Ironic how I get attracted to a guy who spends most of his time thinking with the wrong head.
“Stop, would you, and just live. Enjoy this moment.” I step into the light and gesture for him to come on.
“Are they gun-toting people?”
I shrug.
“’Cause I don’t want to be a ninety-year-old man with buckshot embedded in his ass,” he says while looking over his shoulder at the house.
“At least you’ll have a keepsake from this night.”
“Come on, Josie.”
“You come on.” I’m standing at the edge of the pool and beckon for him to follow. When he takes a step forward, a sign of his commitment toward tonight, I step back and drop into the water like an arrow plunging downward, smooth and sure. When I surface, I smile and notice he’s come to the edge.
“Wait,” I say.
“What?” He quickly turns and looks back at the house, positive someone is coming out.
I laugh. “You can’t come in until you take your shorts off. Birthday suits only.”
With his thumb on his jeans, he pauses, the internal struggle playing across his face.
“Come on, I’m waiting.” My voice is throaty from the anticipation. In one swift movement, he strips from his jeans and plunges in the water. After he breaks the surface and shakes water from his eyes with a quick flick of the head, he pierces me with a look full of need and primal lust.
My insides quiver with eagerness as I flow into his arms. No words are required. The neediness in our touch says it all. We entwine ourselves; his large hands support me. I cup his face as we explore each other’s mouths, and when we pause, reeling, I rub my thumb down his cheek and trace the path that is normally creased with worry or heavy thought but is now smooth and relaxed.
“You’re so high strung,” I whisper and wrap my arms around his neck.
“I’m driven,” he says, skimming hot kisses up my neck.
I straddle him and nip at his earlobe, which elicits a moan from him so I do it again. His large hands cup my butt, pushing me hard against him. Slowly he walks us to the steps of the pool and rests me against them. When my breasts break the water, he bends his head to take one nipple in his mouth, sucking me in.
Forgotten are my family woes, doubts, and insecurities. The harshness of the world is lost and I wallow in the fuzzy softness we create.
He’s pressed against my stomach, so I take him in my hand and begin a gentle stroke.
“Lord, Josie. You’re going to undo me.”
“Please,” I say. “I won’t make it much longer.” I wrap my legs around his waist and line up all the important parts.
“There’s a condom in my jean pocket,” he whispers in my ear as I grind against him, kissing the space below his ear.
“Go. Hurry,” I whisper with an immediacy I’ve never experienced. This man, this moment, is all I need but I need it now.
He carries me to the lounger, still pressed against him, and lays me down then snatches up his jeans and fumbles in the pocket for the foil square. It falls out of his hands onto my chest where I whip it up, open it, and with a small gesture ask if I can slip it on. He nods and I roll it down his length, caressing as I go. His eyes briefly drift closed as he moans.
Tightening my arms around his neck, I rub against him.
“Now,” I whisper.
His hands hold my hips, bringing them forward, and in one swift movement he slides in me.
“Yes,” I cry and arch toward him. “
Yes, please.”
His moan unravels me and we love each other hard and fast. I come apart in his hands and he wraps me in his arms, holding me together. When every possible surface of my body is touching his, he shift gears and strokes me with a slow ease. Just when I think I’m satiated, I become consumed with an incredible thirst for more. With him, I’m lost and found.
I rise to meet him and push back. Where he once led, I now take over, whispering demands as our bodies move in unity, his hands doing my bidding. My sole purpose to give him what he’s given me. When he draws close, I take him over the edge, hold on tightly, and we free-fall together.
Chapter 12
My left leg is entwined with McRae’s right one as we lie on our backs struggling to catch our breaths.
“That wasn’t much of a swim,” he says.
“No, it wasn’t. I got distracted.” I turn to him. He’s smiling. His face is soft with satisfaction and his eyes are closed. For a guy who is singularly focused on his goals and little else, when no demands are present other than achieving pleasure, he’s quick to let his guard down. His ability to give unselfishly seems less about being an eager beaver desperate to please, and more about a hunger for closeness and the deep, soul-satisfying gratification he feels when that happens.
“Give me about ten minutes and I’ll distract you some more.” He strokes my leg, rolls toward me, and opens his eyes. My leg slides down his and I rest, half under him. He’s incredible to look at, yet, with all the definition of his body, there’s something soft in his touch and the way he presses his form to mine.
“If I could feel the bones in my body I’d go for a swim while you gather up your energy, but it appears I have the consistency of a noodle.” I pick up my hand and let it flop on my stomach.
“I aim to please.” He throws my words at me and we laugh.
He’s beyond handsome with his straight nose and square chin. He keeps his hair short but it’s grown since we met, long enough that I can tell it has a natural wave. His right incisor is turned slightly inward and I’m guessing he never had braces, not that he needs them. It lends character. I remember how crazy my mom was about our smiles, making us use whiteners. Her version of character was perfection. Next to McRae, I’d feel artificial—if I was the old Josie.
“You sounded pleased, I like it. It’s a miracle we didn’t wake your landlords,” he says.
His five o’clock shadow’s thick and it scratches my palm as I caress his cheek. “She’s out of town. There’s no one home.”
In a flash, he’s up one elbow. “What? You coulda told me that in the beginning. I kept worrying that at any time someone was gonna come out.”
“I think there might have been a moment when you were thinking of something else.” I run my hand downward, tracing his outline from shoulder to waist. "That’s why I didn’t tell you. Adds to the excitement, don’t you think?”
McRae’s lips curl into a smirk. “I’ve enough excitement every day. I’m a pilot, remember? I get into the cockpit with teens who lack focus.”
“True, but I bet you’re so good at that you could handle an emergency with your eyes closed. This was taking a chance not knowing whether you’re in control or not. I bet you don’t do that often.”
“I bet you do that all the time.” Strands of my hair stick together in wet clumps and cling to my breast. He gathers them up and holds them in his palm.
“I used to not. That’s why I move around a lot. My days used to be predictable and uneventful.” My how they’ve changed.
“Where’re you from originally? You never did tell me that.”
“I didn’t? Imagine that.” I laugh. I generally don’t like talking about my life before I split, but I can’t get my brain to focus and opening up to McRae feels easy, natural. “Connecticut. My parents and younger brother are there.”
“And the brother here is older or younger?”
“Older. He’s in Gainesville actually. Where are you from?” Knowing I can answer the question about Will makes me smile.
“Good old Daytona Beach. I’ve lived in some part of Volusia County my entire life and have only ventured out for work. I used to think about joining the Navy or Air Force but that was never really possible.” He says this while weaving my hair through his fingers, a gesture thick with intimacy and familiarity and I find myself leaning closer to him.
“Why not?” There’s a faraway look in his eyes, as if the ghosts of his past still cling. I wonder if I look the same when I talk about home.
“That’s a story for another day. From Connecticut, but I met you in South Carolina and your hotel badge said Washington. You’re now in Florida. You get around. And with very little baggage.” He lifts a brow.
“I’ve been trying to find my brother.” I slide my hand through the opening between his head and arms and cup the back of his head, stroking it gently with my thumb.
“The one here?”
“Yeah. It’s a long story too. Maybe better for another time.” Our shoulders are touching.
“Summarize it for me.” He picks up another strand of hair, adding it the bundle he has and continues to twist.
“Only if you summarize yours for me. You go first,” I volley.
He goes still and looks down at the strands of hair in his hand. “My mom was an addict and drugs got the best of her when I was thirteen. Vann was eight. After some time in foster care, we landed at our grandmother’s house, her mother, and she did most of her parenting with a belt.”
I try not to flinch or do the typical girl coo of pity. It would be insulting to him. Instead I burrow between his side and the mat, pressing my length to his, using touch to express that he’s wanted. I now understand why letting go and trusting others is so difficult. How often has that worked out for him?
“So you stayed because of your brother.”
“Yeah, our grandmother passed when I was twenty, and I petitioned the courts for custody and won.”
“Impressive.”
His eyes meet mine and hold. The brief glimpse of his deep pain leaves me aching. At twenty, I was given a brand spanking new BMW Coupe and keys to my own apartment because I’d finished my first year of law school top of my class.
“I’m sure it had more to do with too many kids already in the system and, unintentional, I’m sure, the gift of inheriting my grandma’s house.”
He’s partly right with his assessment. I’d seen the stats of cases similar to this in law school. The odds were in his favor because of the overtaxed system, but he still had to prove he was capable and reliable. Obviously he succeeded.
“Your turn,” he says and begins to twist my hair again.
“Will and I were always really close.” I shake my head, belying my words. “That’s an understatement, we were inseparable. My grandfather used to caution us about it. Encourage us to have different interests. But that never made any sense to me. He was my brother. What could be wrong with having so much in common with my sibling? Then a few weeks after he started...” If I say law school, it will create a series of further questions I’m not ready to answer. “His graduate studies, he had a car accident that changed everything. A day after he was discharged from the hospital, he was gone. Disappeared off the face of the earth.”
“Just like that.” His hand stops twisting.
“Overnight.” When he looks at me there’s only curiosity, and the lack of pity makes me feel comfortable enough to continue. “I tried calling and sending texts. About six months after he walked out, I get an email saying he’s OK but to leave him alone. Nothing else for another year and half.”
“And you’ve been searching for him ever since?”
I shake my head. “No, only the last two years.”
He stares at me, surprised. “My brother is my only family. If he were to just disappear I don’t think I could ever stop looking.”
A spark of anger flares inside me and I swat him on the back of the head and
come up on one elbow.
“Hey,” he cries.
“You would if he’d sent you emails telling you to leave him alone. You would if he said he needed space, if you thought he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. I was seventeen when he left. Grieving for a loss so sudden it left me reeling. It may have taken me a while but I finally got it together.” I pour my secrets out in one breath, wishing I could suck them back in with a deep inhalation. I’m so ashamed I waited and went through the motions of life, stuck in the world’s longest pity party. But I can’t undo that. I have to keep trying to find a way to live with it. Unfortunately, finding Will didn’t provide instant healing.
Brinn bends and places a light kiss on my forehead. “You’ve found him now. Yet, don’t you plan on leaving?”
I shrug. “I don’t know what to do,” I whisper.
“Maybe you shouldn’t fight it. Overanalyze it.”
“Who says I am?” I’m unsuccessful keeping the defensiveness out of my tone.
“OK, maybe you’re not.” He smiles that adorable crooked grin and caresses my cheek with his thumb. “But if you were, maybe letting things happen naturally would get you the results you’re wanting.”
“Says the over-planner.”
“I didn’t plan this,” he says and moves his thumb to stroke the side of my breast, bring my body into a humming state. Although I’m not sure it ever stopped humming. I’ve heard people talk about amazing sex, about climbing to a high place and losing themselves, and I’ve never felt that before. Until now, yet it’s different. I don’t lose myself when Brinn touches me, when our bodies come together. Instead, I find myself. As if all the edges line up and I become seamless.
“Does it hurt to have this done?” He places the strands of hair across my breast and moves his hand to caress the art on my hip. He traces it across my stomach, below my navel, and stretches his fingers to stroke downward.
“No, not at all. It can be a pain waiting for it to dry.” I suck in a breath when his hand slips between my legs.
