Breaking Defenses

by JB Salsbury

  My laughter dies at the seriousness in his expression. I clear my throat. “I’m good.”

  “Yeah,” he says sadly and frowns. “You are.” He drops his hands and falls back to the opposite side of the hot tub.

  The silence that stretches between us is uncomfortable. I pull my hair over my shoulder and do my best to wring out the water. He watches me but says nothing.

  “I uh…” I fist my hands in the front of my borrowed t-shirt. “I should probably go.”

  He doesn’t say anything but fixes me with a piercing stare.

  “So…tomorrow? We meet here…or…?”

  “Here.”

  “Great. Okay. I should…” I point to the house.

  He doesn’t move.

  I step out of the hot tub.

  “Wait.” There’s a whoosh of water and the sound of Carey’s wet feet on the pool deck.

  I turn toward him just as he approaches me with his arms wide and an oversized towel stretched between his hands.

  “Turn around.”

  I do and he wraps the towel around me, his arms coming with until they double over at my chest. He doesn’t let go, but presses his front to my back, his chin rests on my head, and just like that Carey holds me. Rather than wiggle out of his arms, I fall back, deeper into his embrace, close my eyes and savor the feeling.

  Chapter Nine

  Carey

  This is it.

  My last day of tutoring.

  And it’ll be quick because Rowan texted saying she booked three cleaning jobs this afternoon, so she’ll come over to give me another mock-final and then she’ll be gone.

  Tomorrow I’ll spend Christmas with Sadie, the next day I’ll take my final again, and that’ll be it. I’ll never see Rowan on campus and we’ll both move on with our lives. Separately.

  Yep. That’s the way it has to be because what Rowan said last night is true. I’m not looking for a relationship, and she’s way too good to be added to my list of sexual partners.

  Rowan needs to find a man who only has eyes for her. A man who will cherish her the way she deserves to be cherished. Some smart guy who’ll make good money and buy her whatever the fuck she wants so she can quit some of her jobs and find time to enjoy life. And I’m already having visions of strangling this faceless dickwad who’ll get to have the woman I can’t.

  Memories of last night in the hot tub assault me. I’ve never seen her so relaxed. And I felt like a fucking champion for being the guy who brought that side out in her. Because her laugh deserves to be heard, and her carefree smile deserves to be seen. And my world is so much brighter with her in it.

  Fuck this.

  I need to grow a set and stop being such a pussy.

  My head pops up from out of my hands when I hear the doorbell ring and as I race down the stairs I berate myself for not being able to play it cool. I swing the door open and nearly lose my breath.

  She’s in her usual Bean Madness attire, hair pulled back, loose strands hanging around her face. Exactly the same as always, and yet, completely different. How is that possible?

  “Hi.” My voice sounds weak and she must like it because her face turns a little pink.

  “Hey.” Her green eyes sparkle and a slow smile spreads her lips. “Are you going to let me in?”

  I blink and give myself a mental chin check. “Of course. Sorry, come in.” I stand back and open the door.” Idiot. If she hadn’t said anything I’d still be standing there staring at her in the sunlight.

  “Where do you want me?” she says as she walks through the foyer.

  I bite my lip to avoid telling her the truth, that I want her in my bed… I stop cold, mid-step. My bed?

  “Carey?” She studies me. “Are you okay?”

  I look down at her. Those big eyes looking up at me, her lips so close and so kissable and it hits me. Fuck me. I want Rowan. Not just physically, I want all of her. Movie nights and fights and candlelight dinners and birthday presents and grocery shopping and arguing over where we’re going to eat…on Valentine's Day.

  “You’re scaring me.” She reaches up and presses her palm to my forehead and the simple, platonic touch feels like a stroke to my…chest? Not my dick? That’s interesting. She drops her hand. “You’re pale.”

  The fear in her voice throws me out of my head and I smile. “I’m fine, sorry. I was thinking…” I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry, my heart pounding harder than after thirty minutes of suicide sprints. “The kitchen is fine.”

  She seems skeptical, but heads to the kitchen island and sets down her folder, pulling out my last mock-final and setting it down. I take a seat, and stare at the pages of questions.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  God, I hate that I’ve worried her. But I can’t tell her the shit that’s going through my mind, so I smile and nod. “One-hundred percent. Let’s do this shit.”

  She sits quietly next to me, scrolling through her phone, for the next thirty minutes. The answers come easily and soon enough I’m jotting down my final answer and slamming my pencil down. “Done!” I hold my arms up in victory, feeling lighter than I’ve felt in years, and that shit has nada to do with me acing my mock-final.

  “Easy on the celebrating just yet.” She slides the paper to her. “Let me grade it first.”

  “Take your time.” I hop up and grab us each a water, setting hers down next to her.

  She thanks me and drinks half the bottle and I resist the urge to puff out my chest at having met one of her needs without her even having to ask. Isn’t that what guys in relationships are supposed to do? Maybe I won’t be so bad at this boyfriend shit after all.

  As quickly as the thought goes through my head, so does the little voice that reminds me of how I fucked her over in high school. Nope, we’re taking that to the grave, remember? If I can just convince Rowan that I want her, only her, that I’m all in for a relationship, then we have a real shot at being together.

  “Carey, I’m so sorry,” she says. She frowns, her eyes sympathetic. “You worked so hard.”

  I brace my weight on the countertop. “I failed?” How is that possible?

  She stands from her chair, and circles around with the paper in her hand. “I feel terrible, but…” She shoves the paper at me.

  I snag it, crumpling the corner in my fist. “This is bullshit! I thought—” I look down and see a bright red 100%.

  “You did it!” she shrieks.

  I don’t know who moved first, but my arms are around Rowan and hers are around my waist. “I passed,” I say into her hair.

  “You more than passed, you aced it!” Her arms hug me tighter and I realize this is the first time she’s hugged me back.

  I wish I could say I played it cool. That I held onto that hug for an appropriate amount of time and then released her.

  I did not.

  Folding my bigger body over her smaller one, I hugged her with my entire upper body. My arms wrapping tightly around her back, my nose nuzzling her neck, her back arching so much that if it weren’t for my hold on her she’d fall backwards. And she’s hugging me back.

  Her thin arms proving to be much stronger than they look as they cinch around my ribs, fingers digging in at my lower back as she hangs on.

  “Thank you,” I say into her neck causing a sexy as fuck shiver to slide up her body. “I couldn’t have done this without you.” I brush my nose along the soft skin of her neck. “You’re amazing. Fuck, you smell like cake.”

  She giggles, and I feel the gentle rumble of it against my body. My dick feels it to and I’m forced to let her go before I embarrass myself or worse, scare the shit out of her.

  “Well, you were a great student.” She’s smiling proudly and I have another jaw-dropping moment as I gaze upon her beauty.

  How did I not jump all over her shit in high school?

  She checks her phone. “I should get going. I need to get to Pasadena by noon.”

  “Ro.”

  Her eyes snap t
o mine.

  “Come with me.”

  She looks confused.

  “Tomorrow. Come spend Christmas with me.”

  Her eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

  If she only knew. “Dead serious.”

  “I—”

  “Please.” I step closer, and pick up her hand, and squeeze. “I want to spend Christmas with you. Please. I’ll beg if I have to.”

  She shifts uncomfortably and with false bravado says, “I’d like to see that.”

  I drop to my knees in front of her and bring her knuckles to my lips. “Ms. Campbell, will you please do me the honor of celebrating Christmas with me tomorrow?” Then, I kiss her. Well, I kiss her hand, but still. My lips touch her skin and it’s better than any tongue kiss I’ve ever had. “Please,” I whisper against her skin.

  “The shelter…”

  “Has plenty of people to serve food.”

  “Actually, they—”

  “I’ll go with you.” When her eyes go wide I continue. “What time are they serving?”

  “Eleven.”

  “Perfect. We’ll be at my sister’s by four.” I take a risk and kiss her hand again, then tug her down until she drops onto her knees in front of me. I tower over her and squeeze her hand. “Say yes.”

  “I…I mean…”

  “Say yes, Ro.”

  She blinks up at me and I swear I see a flicker of lust in her eyes. I smirk, she likes me too. We could make this work. I just need more time to convince her. “Yes.”

  I pull her to me, wrap her up, and kiss the top of her head. “See, that wasn’t too painful, right?”

  When her arms snake around me I nearly melt.

  Me! Carey Slade! Melting in the arms of a woman I’ve never even kissed!

  This is some fucked up shit.

  Rowan

  It’s two o’clock on Christmas day and Carey and I are on the I-5 headed south to Encinitas after serving ham and all the fixins at the homeless shelter and I can’t stop laughing.

  “I asked her what she wanted for Christmas and she said me,” he says, his mouth tilting up on the sides. “What was I supposed to do?”

  “You’re telling me you allowed that woman to fondle you because of your selfless, giving, Christmas spirit?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And fondle is a stretch.”

  “You pulled your shirt up and let her put her hands on your chest.”

  “Not exactly fondling.”

  “She tweaked your nipples.”

  He shrugs.

  “You turned around and let her spank you!”

  “I—”

  “Twice!”

  “What did you expect me to do? Deny the wishes of the needy?”

  I frown. “The needy? She was a very wealthy, fifty-year-old, volunteer.”

  He is the picture of male confidence with his legs spread wide and one hand on the wheel. “Oh, so now we’re discriminating? Needy cougars are people to.”

  I throw my head back, laughing with the memory of how Carey made this woman’s year. She’d been shamelessly flirting with him all morning, and when she finally made a comment about hoping Santa puts him under her tree, he indulged her.

  The craziest part? He asked me first.

  “You want me for Christmas, huh? As long as it’s okay with Ro.”

  What was I supposed to do? So I said it was fine with me and the craziness ensued. Was I jealous that this woman got to touch Carey in places I’ve only ever fantasized about? Absolutely.

  He made her day, and the day of everyone who had the pleasure of witnessing Carey, all six-foot-something, turn bright red as this woman rubbed her hands all over his torso.

  “If I didn’t know better,” he says, giving me the side-eye. “I’d say you were jealous of Janis.”

  Am I that obvious?

  I shrug. “Don’t take it personally. You put a lot of effort into that body. Anyone would be interested in touching it if given the chance.”

  He lifts a brow. “Is that right?”

  I shake my head, grinning, and feeling a surge of butterflies attack my insides.

  He pulls up the hem of his long-sleeved t-shirt. “Then have at it, pretty girl.”

  “No way.” I throw an arm out to the freeway in front of us. “You’re driving!”

  “I can still drive. Go ‘head. Touch me.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “You just said anyone given the chance would want to, so prove it.”

  I glare at him, even though my stomach just flipped over and back. “Fine, but don’t get weird.”

  “I promise to not get weird. Now hurry up, fondle me.”

  I lean over the center console and place my palm on his ribs.

  He hisses through his teeth.

  I whip my hand back. “Don’t be gross!”

  “I’m not, your hand is fucking freezing!” He nods back to his body. “Put it back.”

  I put my palm back on his ribs and he drops his shirt and his arm, squeezing my hand between his bicep and torso.

  “Fuck,” he groans, warming my hand against him even though it’s clearly uncomfortable.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Yes I do.”

  After a few more seconds he relaxes as my hand heats up.

  “Feels so good,” I say, resting my head on my arm. I can feel his pulse, the rise and fall of his breath, not to mention that soft skin stretching over rock hard muscles.

  “Ya know, there are places on my body that are a lot warmer than my stomach.” He winks.

  “Oh, I’m sure there are.”

  He chuckles. “Give me the other.”

  “Are you sure you can take it.”

  His abs flex and he lifts his shirt. “Give it me!”

  “Give it to me…?”

  “Huh?”

  “Daddy.”

  He throws his head back laughing. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Say it! Give it to me, Daddy. Say it!”

  “Give it to me, Daddy!”

  I dissolve into a fit of giggles, but I stretch over and put my other hand on his stomach just under the first one.

  A string of curses falls from his lips, but he drops his shirt and squeezes my hands between his bicep and ribcage.

  “Ahhhh… heaven.”

  After a few minutes pass I try to pull my hands back only to have him snag my left hand and put it on his thigh, covering it with his own hand.

  That feels good too.

  Maybe even better than heaven.

  Chapter Ten

  Rowan

  The final forty-five minutes of the drive is coastal and I have my eyes glued to the Pacific Ocean outside my window. Living in Los Angeles one might expect I’d drive out to the beach more often, but the truth is since I moved from Las Vegas I’ve only been to the beach a handful of times.

  Carey pulls off the freeway and through the narrow streets of a laid-back beach town. Every corner is either a surf shop, a restaurant and bar, or a boutique. We turn right off the main street that Carey explained is called Highway 1 or the Pacific Coast Highway and that runs from San Diego to Seattle.

  When we pull into a quaint neighborhood with cottage style houses my jaw drops.

  “We’re so close to the water.”

  “Just behind that row of houses is a cliff that drops straight to the beach.” He motions to the side of the street and then pulls into the driveway of a house on that same side. “We’re here.”

  “Your sister lives here?” I stare in awe at the modern cottage style house with it’s perfectly manicured green grass and tropical plants.

  “Yep.” He pushes open his door and then freezes. “I should probably warn you, I don’t usually bring women to Christmas and I fully expect my sister to jump all over my shit with a million questions so…” he flashes me a devastatingly handsome smile. “Just follow my lead.”

  “Okay, but she does know I’m coming, right?” I reach into the back seat and
grab the apple pie I picked up from the local bakery yesterday after Carey invited me. Crashing his family Christmas is bad enough, I refuse to show up empty handed.

  He steps down from the truck. “No.”

  The door slams closed just as I shriek, “What?!” I scurry out and meet him at the hood of his truck where he’s waiting for me. “You didn’t tell them I was coming, are you insane?!”

  He grabs my hand and drags me up the walkway to the front door. “Maybe.”

  I pull back on his hold. “What are you going to tell them?” Through the glass front door I can already see part of a Christmas tree and smell sweet potatoes and roasting meat.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He pulls me closer and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “It’ll be fine—”

  The door swings open and I’m hit with whiplash as the pretty brunette who absolutely must be Carey’s sister yells, “Merry Christmas!” A quarter of a second later she notices me, all five-foot-five inches attached to her brother’s side. “Oh! You brought a friend!” She doesn’t seem disappointed or annoyed when she smiles my way. “I’m, Sadie, this ogre’s big sister.”

  “I’m so sorry. Carey just told me he didn’t tell you I was coming.” I. Am. Mortified.

  Carey chuckles.

  “Bah.” She swishes her hand through the air as if to bat away my apology. “Nonsense. The more the merrier. Come in!” She steps back and waves us both forward, and Carey releases me to give his sister a hug. “Dude, I swear you’re even bigger than you were three weeks ago. Those steroids are doing wonders for your shoulders, bro.” She grimaces. “Not so good for the penis though.”

  “Shut it, squirt,” Carey says, messing up his sisters perfectly curled and styled long hair.

  She shoves him away and then focuses on me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  “Rowan. And I brought pie.” I hand her the pink box.

  She takes it with one arm and hugs me with the other. “Thank you. I’m sure you know, when Carey’s around there’s never enough food.”