Chasing Clouds

by Kathryn Andrews

  From behind, he closes the distance between us and his excitement presses into my lower back. I swivel my hips, rolling over him, and he groans, dipping his fingers inside.

  “Camille, I want this so bad. I want you so bad. You have no idea . . . weeks,” he mumbles against my skin.

  I turn my head to look at him; his lips are swollen and just inches away. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  He hesitates just for a second, his nostrils flaring at my words, and then I’m spun around in his arms as his mouth slams down on mine. The height difference between us has him bending down and me arching my body up. His large hands cover my entire lower back as he pulls me into him. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, to deserve him, but I’d do it over and over again.

  Desperate to feel his skin against mine, I grab at his shirt and start pulling. Tearing his lips away, he reaches behind his head and has the shirt up and over and on the floor in one swoop. Heat pours off his skin and soaks into mine like the sun’s rays. He smells like vacation, dreams, and forever all rolled into one.

  Staring down at me, his eyes lock onto mine, and we’re both breathing hard. His cheeks are splotched red and his fingers wiggle with the desire to touch me. Never has it felt like this, and I wonder if it’s because of the man in front of me, or if it’s because of me. Maybe it’s both.

  “You are the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.” And I mean that, both inside and out.

  He blinks, brushing those long eyelashes against his cheeks, and swallows.

  Placing my hands on his hips, just where his low-slung swim trunks sit, I begin to slide them across and up his skin. There’s the soft tuft of hair under his belly button, each indentation of his stomach muscles that my fingers go up and over, and the size and strength of his pectoral muscles through his shoulders. His skin is smooth, perfectly olive, and rippling under my touch. Leaning forward, I place a single kiss on the center of his chest. His groan at the contact vibrates into my lips, and I blow on the wet stamp they left behind.

  Not able to withhold any longer, he slides his hands up my back, hooks them under my armpits, and deadlifts me. I instantly wrap my legs around him and bring my mouth back to his.

  Over and over his tongue makes love to mine. His head moves from one side to the other to get deeper, to get more. No one has ever kissed me as thoroughly as he does. It’s like he wants a taste of my soul, the very heart of me, and if he doesn’t know it already, it’s his for the taking.

  “I can’t get close enough to you,” he mumbles against me with soft, full lips. “You taste so good, so perfect, so mine.” One hand squeezes my bottom. It’s large enough that it can splay almost across both cheeks to hold me up while his other arm wraps around me, hugging tightly.

  Hearing I’m his has me smiling, and he takes advantage by biting my lower lip and sucking it into his mouth. I squeeze my legs around his waist, shifting my hips down, and roll across the tip of him.

  With a sharp inhalation of air, we’re moving. He walks us to the bed and leans over until my back hits it. He uses one hand to hold up his weight, and the other he reaches behind to run up my thigh and to the side tie of my bikini. Emerald green irises focus on me as he slowly pulls the strings on the right and then repeats on the left. Dropping my legs, he pulls his hips back and pulls the material free. It also finds its way to the floor.

  It’s the first time I’ve been completely naked in front of him, and there’s not one ounce of self-consciousness present anywhere.

  Looking down, he runs one finger around my breasts, down my stomach, and then side to side between my hip bones.

  “These tan lines are incredibly sexy. I like them . . . a lot.” His eyes bounce to mine then back down, his voice more hoarse than I’ve ever heard it. Responsively, I arch up under his touch.

  “I bet you have a tan line too,” I taunt, and his lips curl up on one side into a smirk.

  Standing between my legs, he inches back, and I prop up on my elbows to get a better look at him. He hesitates with the tie on his swim trunks, and I glance up at him. He’s watching me, and the emotions written across his face are real and open. His gaze is tender, the muscles in his jaw are only a little bit tense, and his nostrils flare just slightly when he breathes.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask him.

  “Nothing.”

  “What are you thinking about?” I shift so I’m sitting up.

  He shakes his head; he doesn’t want to tell me, and that’s fine. After all this time, I understand. This, what we’re doing—it’s a big deal. It changes us.

  I swipe his hands away, and they fall to his sides as he stands there and lets me slip his trunks off.

  I’m not sure anyone could ever be prepared for a naked Reid, and my heart rolls over in my chest as I take in every inch of him—and I do mean every inch. He’s beautiful, and my thighs tighten with excitement knowing what they’re about to receive.

  “I was right.” I glance up at him through my eyelashes then drag one single finger from right to left over the glorious muscles that make a V. “Tan line.”

  Not able to contain myself, I lean forward, lick him from root to tip, and then take him in my mouth. He moans and rocks up on his toes as his hand reaches out and his fingers tangle in the hair on the back of my head. A rhythm is set and I feel pride knowing I’m the one who’s making him shake—me. Even though I know why we waited so long, a tiny part of me is protesting. It feels like lost time, and that just confirms to me that my head and my heart are in this together.

  “Princess,” he whispers. “You have to stop.”

  “Are you sure?” My hand wraps around him tighter.

  “No.” He chuckles, and then slowly backs away. “But, I’d prefer this to end another way, at least this time.” He smiles down at me with brown hair sticking up everywhere and gloriously flushed skin.

  I scoot back across the bed and he follows, blazing a path up my body with his very wet tongue. I’m certain, had I given him the chance, he would have made a meal of me, but I’m ready to feel him, all of him.

  Stopping on my breasts, he takes his time ravishing each one as I grip the sheets underneath us, impatience about to win out as my heart beats a hundred miles an hour.

  “Salty,” he mumbles. He was salty, too, evidence that we spent half the day on and in the water.

  “Reid.” I pull him, begging him to make another move, and he does.

  His large body aligns and rubs across me in the most erotic way. His mouth latches onto mine, and my arms and legs fold around him, keeping him close. Even if we never went any further than this, I would die a happy woman.

  Sliding my hands over his back, I rub them up and down and then lose my fingers in his hair. I want to touch all of him, all at once, and I feel feverish with desperation.

  Rolling my hips, the tip slides in, and he freezes and throbs at the contact.

  Lifting up, he hovers over me as his clear eyes find mine. They’re questioning, brows raised, and I nod. I trust him implicitly with the line we’re about to cross, and it’s apparent he trusts me too.

  Pushing in, his eyes fall shut with pleasure just before he drops his lips back to mine. He’s over me, around me, in me. I’m completely consumed by him, and I’m aching for all of it. As the minutes tick by, I feel like we’re back in the water, swaying with the waves. Some are gentle, some are rough, but it’s exhilarating, and I know I’ll keep going back for more.

  More. More. More.

  Eventually, his hands slide under me and tilt my hips. He goes deeper, finding more, and it’s oh so good. Sweat is shining off our skin, hearts are racing, and breaths are harsh and loud. Nothing has ever compared, and as the waves build, peak, and then crash down, I submerge myself in the current and blissfully ride it out until I’m spent and lying on the shore.

  Heart pounding, beat by beat, it expands in my chest with an overwhelming sense of love for him. This man, my temporary husband—can he feel it? Does he know?
/>   This moment . . .

  Him . . .

  All of it . . .

  He’s just saved me and ruined me at the same time.

  I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND now what it means when people say time flies when you’re having fun. Three weeks have flown by, and deep down, I know our time here is just about up.

  Time.

  It’s funny how time and separation really can change perception. For five years, I’ve been in the thick of it with my family and with Patrick. We went from being just a couple of teenagers to young adults, where other people began pushing us in the direction they wanted us to go to better suit their goals and aspirations.

  I’ve thought a lot about Patrick over the last couple of weeks. I’ve thought about the dynamics of our relationship, his relationship with his family and mine, and all the involuntary subtle tells of his unhappiness that now seem so obvious—the way he’d briefly look down when my father would speak to him, when he chose a northeastern college and shocked us all, how he would strip off his tie and pop the cap off his favorite bottle of beer every chance he got. Patrick doesn’t want that life either anymore, but he’s just like me in the sense that he wants to make those around him happy and proud. He’s probably also lost like I was. If he steps off the path, what does he do next?

  I hope he’s used this time to think about that. I know he’s angry, but there’s nothing wrong with me wanting to take a little me time. That’s all I did, and I know soon he’ll see it was the best thing for both of us.

  Although, I still haven’t forgiven him for the Brittany fiasco and for tracking me down at Reid’s home. Maybe I should have talked to him. If the situation were reversed, I’m certain I would want the same thing.

  Reid asked me the other day if I missed him, and I do. He was my friend for a really long time, the one person who understood everything about our lifestyle and the expectations. It’s because of this that I feel guilty for leaving him to deal with the fallout.

  Guilt.

  I also feel guilty because I’ve dragged Reid into this mess. Granted, he doesn’t complain, but he never asked for any of this. He was just offering me an out, one I selfishly took. I am so grateful that I did, in more ways than one.

  Thoughts of Reid and earlier this morning float through my mind, and I close my eyes. We took a shower together after his workout, and the water wasn’t the only thing that was hot. His body is like a work of art. He has almost zero fat, more muscles than I knew the body actually contained, and his strength and endurance are off-the-charts impressive. Steam, water, soap, his hands, his tongue between my legs—all of it is imprinted so deep in my pores, I’m certain I will feel him on me indefinitely.

  I’m sitting here on the beach, just down from the dock pathway. My knees are pulled up, my arms are wrapped around them, and my chin is resting on top. I’ve been here for a while, and the tide is on its way in. Seagulls have circled a few times, looking for food, and I wish I had thought to bring down a loaf of bread. I’ve heard people call them beach pigeons or rats with wings, but I think they’re beautiful, just like this beach.

  Before Ali, I had never heard of Anna Maria Island, and I don’t know if that’s a bad thing or good. It’s bad because, of all the beaches I’ve been to in my lifetime, this one is by far the most beautiful, and it’s quite possible I never would have found it without her. It’s good, though, too, because it’s like the best-kept secret ever. There are no large chain hotels, no big attractions, just a simple little sleepy beach town filled with eclectic shops, some amazing restaurants, and the blue-greenest water I’ve ever seen.

  In New York, the air smells dirty. In Savannah, the air smells like the paper mills. In Tampa, the air smelled humid, but here on the island, it smells of salt water. It’s head clearing and soul cleansing.

  On Fridays during our stay, Reid drove back up to Tampa to attend the weekly team offseason meeting, and I used that time to plan out what is going to happen next. I’ve done my research, from the business name and how to file for an LLC to website design companies and launching social media pages to promote the work I’ve already done. I have given thought to a storefront, but that part of my vision is still fuzzy. I can better decide after scouting locations once I’m back in Savannah. So, for right now, I’ll continue to consign pieces and advertise to restore and make custom pieces. Because of all this, I feel more excited than I do anxious about what is awaiting my return, and that’s how I know it’s time to go. We can’t stay here forever, and I don’t even want to. I do love my family, I love my workshop, and I love how Reid gave me this. I still catch myself wondering why he did it; maybe one day he’ll tell me.

  The sand shifts next to me as Reid sits down. I don’t take my eyes off the horizon, because if I do, if I look into his handsome face, I’ll change my mind. It’s silent around and between us except for the water lapping on the shore and the hum of the wind dancing through the sea oats surrounding us.

  “Hey,” he says, looking at me. My hair blows in the breeze, and he reaches up to tuck it behind my ear.

  “Hey,” I say back, my eyes slipping shut at the touch of his fingers.

  I’ve been living in a fairy tale, and I know it’s time to face reality.

  When I first got to Reid’s, I asked myself two questions: who am I, and what’s important to me? I may still be figuring out who I am, but at the end of the day, I know what’s important is living my life for myself. Those who truly know me and love me have all said it, especially Clare, and it wasn’t that I couldn’t make my own decisions before; I just thought I was being kind and selfless. But, even though my intentions were always meant to be good, truth is, no one cared. I wasn’t appreciated or valued; I was being used. Well, no more.

  “You okay?” he asks, his voice low and rumbly.

  “I will be.” I know that’s the truth. People can’t hurt you if you don’t allow them to.

  Stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles, he puts his hands behind him in the sand and leans back casually.

  Glancing over, I let my eyes drift up from his bare feet to his unshaven face. He’s wearing a gray T-shirt and navy blue athletic shorts, his hair is sticking up everywhere in the breeze, and he looks perfect—so perfect my stomach clenches with how much I wish this were real . . . that in the end, we were real.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  My eyes jump to his face; his brows are lowered and he’s frowning.

  “At the moment, sunsets,” I tell him, looking back out toward the water to hide what I’m feeling. “They’re so pretty and feel so calm. Sunrises always make me excited for a new day, make me want to get up and conquer the world. Sunsets make me want to slow down to enjoy the moment as it winks good night. Honestly, I don’t know which I like more. They’re both beautiful.”

  He chuckles. “You do know you don’t have to pick one over the other. You can love them both.”

  I smile with him. “Yeah, I guess. I think it’s just ingrained that we have to choose. Did you ever play this or that as a kid? Winter or summer? Beach or mountains? Blue or green? Hamburger or hotdog? You always had to pick one, it could never be both.”

  He doesn’t say anything, just watches me, his long eyelashes sweeping down over the soft skin under his eyes when he blinks. He’s so beautiful.

  “Sunrise or sunset? I think you’re right—I do love them both.”

  “I usually am right.” There’s humor in his voice as he bumps his shoulder against mine.

  “Reid, why did you do all this for me?” I must have asked at least a dozen times.

  He doesn’t answer, just shrugs his shoulders.

  I lean in, and he bends his head to let me kiss him. His lips are soft, warm, and so familiar, and now it’s just natural to be affectionate with him. He doesn’t seem to mind, either; since the day of the boat ride, we’ve both been pretty insatiable.

  Pulling back, he takes his time and studies my face. Whatever he finds, it causes him to look away and
let out a deep sigh.

  “So, it’s time to go home?” He bends his knees so he can bury his toes.

  “Can’t stay here forever.” I shift a little to face him and cross my legs under me.

  “No, I suppose not.” He sounds resigned, sad.

  “Although, if I had to pick a place for forever, this would be it.”

  He nods then tilts his head to look at me, brown wisps of hair fluttering on his forehead.

  “Are you ready?” His concern is so genuine, his green eyes so seeking, my throat tightens with emotion.

  “I am.” I reach over and lay my hand on his leg.

  “Are you happy?” he asks me, his vulnerability sneaking out just a tiny bit.

  “Happier than I’ve ever been.” My eyes lock onto his and they don’t waver. I want him to see how I feel, and what he’s given me—all of it.

  Slowly, he smiles, and the last piece of my heart begs to go to him. I gladly give it over.

  “Come on, let’s go for a walk.” Standing up, he brushes the sand off his palms then holds out a hand to help me up. Sliding my fingers into his, I squeeze, wishing I never had to let go.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask. His expression is adoring, but also filled with mischief.

  “Because you’re so tiny and cute, sometimes I want to manhandle you.”

  “Manhandle me? What does that mean?” I ask, brushing the sand off of me.

  Bending over, he grabs my arm with one hand while the other slides around my legs, and the next thing I know, I’m thrown over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

  “Reid! Put me down!” I laugh, and the seagulls near us scurry away.

  He starts jogging and laughs. “You’re so light. I should have been using you for my workouts these last few weeks—but then again, maybe not. My exercises would have shifted to a different kind.” He slaps me on the butt then swings me around so I’m in front of him and my legs are wrapped around his waist. “I want you to know I had a really good time here with you. Every minute exceeded what I could have ever imagined. No regrets.”