by Cruise, Anna
I looked at her, my heart pounding like a jackhammer, desire racing through me. Her eyes were wide, her head tilted back against the wall, her mouth open. She said nothing but I knew what she wanted, what her eyes were telling me.
I dropped her slightly, positioning her against the wall. Slowly, my eyes still locked with hers, I pushed my cock into the hot, wet space between her legs.
Her mouth opened wider and she nodded, moaning, and I pushed all the way inside of her.
She gasped. Or maybe that was me. Her nails dug into my skull as I thrust as deep as I could, letting her wetness wrap around me.
I tried to go slow, tried to savor it, tried to not lose myself in the heat of the moment. I moved slowly, savoring every inch of her warmth. She stayed still for a minute, clinging to me and then she began to move her hips, matching my rhythm. I tried to steady my breathing, tried to slow it down because every single nerve in my body was on fire and I knew I was about to lose it.
She must have known, must have somehow been able to sense it because she dropped her legs and I slipped out of her.
“Bed,” she whispered. “Take me to the bed.”
I nodded, breathing heavily. I held on to her with one hand, shut the water off with the other and then picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. Her skin prickled with goosebumps and I held her as close to me as I could, raining kisses on her cheeks, her neck, as I made my way toward the bed.
I lowered her on to the bed, hovering over her for a second before pushing fully into her again. I gasped and she groaned and clawed at my back, her nails tearing at my skin. I didn't care, just thrust harder into her. She looked up at me, her eyes black with desire, as she matched my rhythm with her hips. I covered her mouth with mine, hungry to taste her, our hot, slick skin sticking together.
Her legs flexed around me, tightening their grip and then she pushed at my chest, rolling me onto my back with strength I didn't know she had.
She placed her hands on my chest and rode me slowly, a delicious kind of torture. She whipped her hair back, drops of water raining down on me. She leaned down and her tongue licked at my ear, my neck, my collarbone, her hands sliding down to my stomach. Then she rose up again, her hands back on my chest, pressing hard on me. Her hips picked up speed and I put my hands on her ass, squeezing her. She moaned and moved faster, throwing her hips into me violently.
I felt it. I was at the edge. About to lose it.
“Gina, I'm gonna...” I said.
“Do it,” she said, her voice ragged. “I'm ready.”
She rode me harder, faster and I rose up, driving into her as hard as I could. Her fingers dug into my chest and her breathing was loud, more like gasps. She bit down on her bottom lip as we moved.
My fingers dug into her ass and I pulled her down hard against me as I exploded inside of her. She dropped her head, her wet hair tickling my chest as her hips rocked fast against mine. She threw her head back, screaming and I surrendered completely.
Finally, her hips slowed and she collapsed on to me, her head falling to my chest, our bodies plastered together. I could feel her heart beating, could feel her trying to catch her breath. Just like me. I ran a hand through her hair, draping my other arm over her, holding her to me, quiet settling over us.
I closed my eyes. I wanted to ask her what had just happened. It was as if the kiss in the driveway had been a fantasy, the anger and accusations a figment of my imagination. But I didn't know that I wanted to hear the answers. For the first time in a long time, I felt whole. Complete. The ache in my chest was gone and I didn't know if it was temporary or a permanent thing but I knew how I felt. I felt like me.
But before I could think longer on it, try to figure out if and how I could get the words out, I noticed Gina's breathing had slowed. Her head lay against my chest, her hair splayed across my arm, her eyelids closed, a contented smile on her lips. My breath hitched in my throat and I tightened my grip around her, caressing her arm, planting a soft kiss on her hair.
I didn't want to reason or rationalize what had just happened.
I just wanted to hold her.
THIRTY ONE
My eyes fluttered open in the dark room.
Kellen was stretched out on the bed, his naked body pressed up against me. My leg was thrown over his, my head on his chest. I could hear his heart beat, a slow, steady rhythm. His skin was warm to the touch.
A dull throbbing worked its way through my head and I closed my eyes again. My lower back ached and my legs were heavy with exhaustion. My mind was heavy, too, like a thick fog had settled over my brain.
But then I focused, processed where I was. And what I'd done.
My eyes flew open.
Shit.
What the hell had I just done? I wasn't drunk anymore and I hadn't been drunk enough to forget what had happened because the memories from the night before came rushing in. Kellen talking on the couch. Me following him out to the water. Kissing him. Touching him. Being carried into the house. The shower. Oh, God, the shower. I relived every moment. His hands, his mouth, his everything. He'd consumed me, both there and then later, in his bed. The bed I was laying in, nestled up against him.
He breathed in, then, a soft sigh, and shifted a little. But he didn't wake up. I let my eyes travel the length of his body, from his mussed hair to the light stubble on his chin, to his bare, tanned chest and the muscled ridges of his abs.
It had been...awhile. No one since Luke. And not once had I ever been with anyone who'd caused me to pass out after having sex with them. Maybe it was the alcohol. A passed out drunk coma. But I knew better. Whatever had exploded inside of me was something I'd never felt before and it had sent me spinning.
Jesus. It was like he'd set my entire body on fire the minute he'd touched me. I'd been drunk, but definitely sober enough to know that I'd wanted it. Wanted him.
Maybe I'd ignored the attraction. Maybe it had been there all along. I thought about the kiss in the driveway and how I'd blown up at him afterward. Part of me had been pissed that he'd crossed the line, blurring our professional relationship, but I knew myself and I knew there was more to it than that. I'd reacted the way I did because of how he'd made me feel. Desired. Wanted. Alive. Emotions I hadn't felt in years. And it terrified me. I wasn't prepared to want anyone ever again because I didn't want to lose anyone again.
But then I'd kissed him. He hadn't done it. It had been all me. He'd stood there, staring out into the water, and I'd reached for him and kissed him. And then we'd fallen to the sand and he covered my body with his and all I could think about was how much I wanted him. For once, for the first time in forever, I stopped thinking and just did what I wanted.
Except now I was thinking again.
He was my client. I worked for his employer. I was charged with keeping him out of trouble. And now I was lying naked in bed with him. It was unprofessional. No matter what I'd felt, I should've been able to make a better decision.
Kellen stirred again but his eyes remained shut.
Part of me wanted to stay there in bed with him, to wake him up by crawling on top of him and picking up where we'd left off. But I'd already let that part of me do the decision making. And, no matter what I'd felt, it had been a mistake.
So I did the only thing I could do. The responsible thing. I slid slowly out of the bed, making sure I didn't make a sound. I tiptoed to the bathroom and found my clothes on the floor, the shower door still wide open. I quickly pulled on my clothes, glancing in the mirror as I pulled my shirt over my head. My hair was a mess, knotted and tangled, but even that couldn't hide the glow in my eyes or the rosiness in my complexion.
I sighed. Sex with Kellen Handler had agreed with me in more ways than one.
Stop, I told myself. Nothing can happen. Nothing is going to happen.
I padded back into the bedroom, walking on the tips of my toes. Kellen was still asleep, still hadn't moved.
I walked quietly out to the kitchen. I searched the counters fo
r a pen and paper, but found none. My purse was still in my car. There was no way I'd make it out and back without waking him up.
Shit. I couldn't just leave. Guys did that. Not girls. And definitely not me. But I knew I couldn't stay. I couldn't have him wake up and look at me and want to know what had happened and how and why. Because he would ask. And I didn't have any answers. That wasn't true. I didn't have any answers I felt comfortable giving him.
I stood at the kitchen counter and thought for a minute longer. Rip hopped up next to me and rubbed his face against mine, a low purr in his throat.
After a few agonizing minutes, I made a decision.
A professional decision.
I found my car keys and my sandals and slipped them on. And then I let myself out of Kellen Handler's house as quietly as I could.
THIRTY TWO
I woke up alone.
By the time I opened my eyes, it was after nine the next morning. I rolled over and put my arm around...empty space. I blinked, realized the bed was empty and sat up.
“Gina?”
No answer.
I slid out of bed, pulled on my shorts and checked the bathroom, then the living room.
She was gone.
I scanned the table for a note, but the only thing on the table was Rip. Asleep. I checked my phone. Nothing.
I punched in her number and got her voicemail.
I hung up and tossed the phone back on the table. It clattered next to Rip and he jumped, ears flattened.
What the hell?
I stalked into the kitchen and pulled a glass from the cupboard. I stood at the sink and filled it, then downed it in one quick swallow. I set the cup down and braced my hands on the counter and closed my eyes and thought about the previous night.
I hadn't planned it. I hadn't planned anything. Hell, I hadn't even known that Gina was coming over. I remembered my surprise when I opened the door, seeing her holding the twelve pack of beer. More surprise when she'd told me what she had planned for the evening.
I'd help up my end of the bargain. Spilled everything about Jay, about that day at Maverick's. And she'd figured it all out. Figured out how it had made me feel, why it haunted me every fucking day of my life. She'd followed me out to the beach and watched me stare at the water. And even though she hadn't said anything, I knew she knew exactly what I was thinking about. Jay. Wishing I could bring him back. Wishing he would walk right out of the ocean, like he'd just played the biggest and best practical joke he could think of.
And she'd known something else, too. The fact that I blamed myself for his death. I'd never said it out loud to anyone but it had always been there, since that fucking day in the water. I saw myself dragging him to shore. Like a movie in slow-motion, I could see it all, every single detail. The grains of sand clinging to his cheeks. The cut above his right eye. The dull, unseeing green eyes. It was there, staring me in the face, mocking me, accusing me.
I'd killed Jay. No one else.
But Gina wouldn't let me take the blame. And when I wouldn't listen, when I'd tried to tune her out, to argue with her and tell her she was wrong, she'd used the one thing she knew I couldn't say no to. She'd kissed me.
And then everything had exploded. Tumbling to the sand, her mouth and hands just as eager as mine. I placed my hands on the counter. I'd told her we needed to stop. I remembered it vividly. And I would have. But she'd said no. She'd wanted it—wanted me—just as much as I'd wanted her. She'd directed me into the shower, then into bed. Even then, she'd taken charge, rolling on top of me, finishing what we'd started. And then she'd fallen asleep, her arms wrapped around me, her head on my chest. I felt a twinge in my chest, something I couldn't identify. Something I didn't want to identify.
So what the fuck had happened between falling asleep together and waking up alone?
I knew exactly what had happened.
She'd bailed.
I turned to leave the kitchen but stopped. There was nowhere to go. I glanced at the living room. Our empty beer bottles littered the top of the coffee table. I looked toward the bathroom and felt my pulse quicken as I remembered the time we'd spent together in the shower. I stole a quick glance toward my bedroom. More memories. Every single room would remind me of Gina. I couldn't even go outside, knowing I'd look at the shore and think only of her launching herself at me, kissing me, touching me.
There was one room left. Jay's. A sharp pain stabbed at my gut. I couldn't bring myself to go in there. Not now. Not ever.
So I stayed in the kitchen, the only neutral room in the house. And I thought some more about Gina and what had happened. Had I been some sort of one night stand for her? Like, she'd gotten drunk and realized she was horny and just needed to hook up?
I dismissed that idea. Gina was professional through and through. I thought back to the kiss in the driveway. She'd ripped me a new one for that and it had only been a kiss. She'd made it clear that we needed to maintain a professional relationship, and a professional relationship only.
So maybe it was some sort of karmic payback for all the stupid shit I'd pulled with girls over the years. Maybe she'd been a little drunk and had gotten carried away and regretted it in the morning. That would certainly explain why she'd left so early, without waking me up. And maybe this was the Universe's way of getting back at me for all the times I'd done that over the years. Girls whose names I couldn't remember, hotel rooms and apartments I'd slipped out of at the crack of dawn so that I could catch the next wave.
I shook my head. I'd always left a note. A text. I never just upped and left. But maybe it didn't matter. Maybe I'd left a string of chicks feeling the way I was feeling right at that moment.
Pissed off and more than a little hurt.
I'd wanted to wake up with Gina. I threw my head back and closed my eyes. There had been something between us. A different kind of spark. I knew what sex felt like. I pictured the night with Ch in the hotel room. And the other girl, the girl that had almost become a Kellen statistic at Duke's. I liked sex, being with chicks, finding the release. I'd never lied to any of them about what was happening or what I expected...or what the aftermath would be like. I was used to having sex just for the sake of having sex. It was what I'd gotten used to, what I expected.
Gina was nothing like what I expected. Explosive. Mind blowing. And that didn't just happen because you were attracted to someone.
There had to be more.
And I thought there was.
I closed my eyes and swallowed.
But maybe she didn't.
THIRTY THREE
It was two weeks before I saw Gina again. Two fucking weeks.
She wouldn't return my calls or texts the morning after we slept together. Or the next day. Or the day after that. On day four, I finally got pissed off enough to call Heath. I left a voicemail with him, telling him that he better find her and get her on the phone or all bets were off. True to his nature in worrying about me being his meal ticket, he got back to me forty-five minutes later.
“Uh, she's not going to be working with you anymore,” he said over the phone.
“What?”
“You'll have a new rep,” he said quickly. “Some guy by the name of Trevor—”
I cut him off. “I don't want Trevor. I want Gina.”
“Well, she's apparently been reassigned to something else by her company.”
“Bullshit.”
“Look, Kellen, that's what I was told. I think...”
I didn't hear what he thought because I didn't give a shit. I hung up on him and called Bruce Wyckoff.
“What the fuck is going on, Bruce?” I asked. “Why the hell am I getting some new publicity rep?”
There was a slight pause, “I don't know, Kellen,” he finally said. “I just got a call about an hour ago. They said your rep was being moved to a different project. But they're assigning you their best guy for the next couple of weeks.”
“I don't want their best guy,” I yelled. “I want her.”
“She's not pissed off,” I said angrily. But that was a lie. I didn't know what the fuck she was feeling because she wouldn't return my calls. “But she won't call me back. I've done everything she's asked Bruce. Everything. And now she's...being assigned to something else? It's all bullshit. I wanna know why.”
“I don't think you have a choice, bro,” Bruce said. “I'll see what I can find out. But the suspension still stands. This new guy they're putting with you should be there later today and he'll lay out—”
“I'm not doing shit,” I said. “I'm not doing shit without her.”
“Kellen, come on. You can't just...”
“Watch me, Bruce,” I said. “I'm not doing shit.” I hung up.
And for two weeks, I was true to my word.
I didn't do shit.
Trevor Raymond came to my house the same day I'd talked to Heath and Bruce. He apologized for having to take over for Gina, but assured me we'd be able to work just fine.
I told him he could go fuck himself.
He seemed ready for that, though, and I had to give him credit. He'd tried hard. He'd let me swear at him, give him the silent treatment, totally ignore him and he never lost his cool. He was pretty good.
But I was angry. And hurt. I'd gone through every scenario in my head, everything I could think of to try and explain why she'd done what she did. And every time, I came up empty-handed. I was still no closer to figuring out what the hell had happened that morning, what had sent her scurrying off like some scared little mouse, than I had been two weeks ago.
So I took it out on Trevor. I was an asshole. I'd alternate between chewing him out and giving him the silent treatment. And he just took it, calling me every day with events he had lined up for me.
I refused to do any of them.
No more public speaking.
