Blue Crush

by Barnard, Jules

  My heart pumps with anxiety. I don’t know why his stupid bird story scared me. Maybe it was the way he told it. Maybe it’s this place, but Jesus. Man-eating birds and ancient Native American sites? I don’t need this shit.

  Only yes, I do. Drake and every jerk that came before him prove I need to toughen up, as Lewis so bluntly pointed out.

  Mudder—that’s the goal. Afterward, I will be a tough chick and guys will think twice before messing with me.

  Rocks and other indistinguishable blobs pass below in the clear water. I’m trying not to look at the shadows and guess at what they are, but it’s not working. Goddamn, Lewis. I flip over and backstroke for a while.

  Two-thirds of the way there, I breaststroke the rest of the way in. My hand shakes like crazy as I carefully reach for one of the brownish, weathered stones of Cave Rock as if it might zap me for trespassing, like an electric fence. Instead of a light, fleeting contact, though, my fingers linger for a moment. This is a piece of Lewis’s family, his past and present. I’m drawn to it and fear it at the same time.

  Whirling around, I book it the heck back.

  I can’t believe I have to do this twice.

  By the time I reach Lewis, I’m officially tired. I glare at him for good measure, which makes him grin. He looks unbelievably hot without his shirt, smiling down at me with mischievous dark eyes. I have to work to not return that smile.

  I push off the rocks below his feet and make my second lap to Cave Rock to give Ong another opportunity to take a juicy bite out of my ass.

  My final lap to the jetty goes more slowly. Lungs aching, arms burning—my legs don’t work so well, and I don’t feel the cold anymore as I crawl pitifully up the rocks. Lewis doesn’t try to help. He learned his lesson the last time, when I verbally and sexually attacked him for lifting me off the cliff before I fell to my death.

  Given that logic, if Lewis were a normal guy, he’d find a reason to save me, but Lewis isn’t normal. He’s pensive, reserved, and confusing, though his body reacted predictably on the beach. I can still feel his warm hands—

  A spasm of shivers erupts down my limbs, which turns into full-blown teeth-rattling vibrations as my body defrosts.

  Lewis wraps a towel around my shoulders and runs another down my legs and feet. “How do you feel?”

  “Like shit,” I say between chattering.

  He lifts me onto his lap and hugs me to his chest, which feels as hot as a furnace. I press my face against his smooth skin. “Does everyone you train get this treatment? I’m going to get jealous if you tell me you do this with Zach.”

  Suddenly, I’m not so cold, or cranky, despite it still being early morning. My mind wanders to last night and the things we did—the things we could be doing.

  He chuckles. “Just you.”

  Are we talking training or something else?

  Am I the only one he kisses? Lewis doesn’t seem the type to hook up randomly, but I’ve been wrong before. Have things settled down with Mira to the point he can happily date without her torching his home?

  “So Mira’s okay? With this?” I lean back to look in his eyes. His face doesn’t give much away, but I’ve noticed his eyes are expressive if I’m paying attention.

  He tightens his arms and leans down, brushing his lips over mine. “Your lips need warming.”

  My breath quickens, lungs tight and breathless like they were right after the swim. “Whose fault is that?”

  “Mine, and I take my warming-up job very seriously.” He skims his lips across my cheek, below my ear, wrapping them around the lobe and sucking.

  A shiver in no way associated with the cold runs down my spine.

  My ears were never sensitive. I don’t know why they are with him.

  I slide my arms around his neck, drawing him closer. Cool air brushes bare skin as the towel falls away. His hands grip my waist, our lips colliding. The kiss is intimate and thorough, communicating what we never say.

  I’m not cold anymore. In fact, there’s a fire burning under my skin and it centers beneath Lewis’s hands as they glide over my bare back and around my ribs, his fingers grazing the underside of my breasts. My breath catches and he pauses.

  I arch into his hand and he palms my breast, a low moan erupting from his chest—or mine?

  Who cares?

  The kiss becomes frantic and deep. Lewis lifts me or I stand—not sure which—but my legs are now around his waist and straddling him.

  The towels have gone by the wayside, a puddle on the stones. Only my bikini and Lewis’s board shorts block our skin, and knowing that and feeling him hard beneath me has my breath hitching between kisses.

  His head lowers and he slides my bikini top to the side, his mouth concealing my nipple. I run my hands over his broad shoulders, my body shaking with the pleasure, knowing he’s mine in this moment, if no other.

  I feel him thick and hot beneath me. I rock forward to increase the friction because that’s what he does to me, turns me crazy and hormone drunk. His mouth pauses, a deep rumble coming from his chest. This time the sound definitely came from him.

  His mouth runs up my neck, his hands settling on my ass. He gently guides me forward for a repeat, which is really unnecessary because I’m already moving in that direction.

  His tongue exploring my mouth, Lewis raises one hand to gently graze my nipple, his erection large and rubbing the right spot, over and over.

  My pulse races, breath coming out in tiny pants.

  And then the center of my bikini bottoms slips to the side. The barrier between us diminishes to a thin layer, providing just enough room for him to nudge in through his clothes …

  I’m about to come.

  My eyelids pop open and I swallow a gasp, scooting back until I almost fall off his lap, his arms gripping me before I do.

  I slide my top into place, my chest heaving as I catch my breath and pull the towel up.

  People who weren’t here when we arrived get out of cars in the parking lot above us. Vehicles speed down the highway. Tucked against the shore and partially blocked by large boulders, we’re fairly hidden down here, but still—I almost orgasmed on top of a guy who isn’t my boyfriend. In front of families and children. What am I doing?

  I don’t do this.

  Lewis’s eyes are dilated, his arms pulling me closer. Facing the lake, he doesn’t see the people above. He should hear them, but he seems as caught up as I was.

  “Ready to go?”

  His eyes blank. “What?”

  “There are people …”

  Glancing back, he swallows and wipes a hand down his face. “Give me a minute.”

  What we did is crazy, but I can’t help staring at him, the shape of his mouth, the smooth, chiseled angle of his high cheekbones. Why is he so appealing to me? The urge to return to his arms draws me.

  He grins from beneath his lashes. “This might go faster if you stop looking at me like that and move to your rock.”

  Right. I make a few stealthy adjustments to my bottoms and slip over, my thigh grazing his erection.

  Lewis tenses, but he doesn’t try to touch me. I’m shaking and I don’t know if it’s from frustration, cold, embarrassment, or all three.

  The ride home is quiet. I can’t stop replaying the jetty. We were about to hook up—in public—as if Armageddon were coming and this was our last chance at sex.

  Lewis pulls into my driveway, looking straight ahead. “We should go out. On a date.”

  Whoa … He’s asking me out? Now?

  Should, he said. What does that mean? “Is that what you want, or … You’re not thinking I do this all the time—” I wave vaguely behind us. “—are you? Because I don’t. Not ever.”

  His gaze is so intense that for a moment I can’t move. “I want to take you out. I’ve always wanted to. I tried to ask you at the barbecue.” He glances away as if he’s unnerved, but Lewis doesn’t get flustered. “I want to spend time with you. That’s all. Is tonight good?”

  I
shake my head. I have to work tonight.

  “When, then?”

  “Saturday. I have Saturday off.”

  “Seven okay?”

  It’s not until he pulls away and I replay every detail of this morning that I realize he never answered my question about Mira and whether she was okay with us seeing each other. This date should be interesting—as well as the fallout.

  Chapter Nineteen

  You would think that as we’ve made out a couple of times and are about to embark on our first official date, Lewis would go easier on me during training, but no. He broke my ass in a four-mile uphill run, then had me climbing a rope at his gym with only my arms. About a billion times. Yesterday, he took me and our team to a football field to practice maneuvers and train on how to assist during competition. He explained what was allowed and what wasn’t. I beat the guys in sprints, and only lost to Lewis in another, albeit shorter, uphill run. I would have smoked him then too, if he hadn’t whispered “Cave Rock” in my ear and distracted me.

  Very underhanded of him, testing my mental endurance. I’ll have to work on that—and find a way to pay him back.

  It’s Saturday, the night of our date and Cali’s somewhere with Jaeger. I’m nervous, but I’m also pretty proud of myself for being somewhat steady despite kind of freaking out. Does that make sense?

  I’ve gone through my wardrobe three times for something to wear. Something that doesn’t scream, “I’m a loose whore who attacked you on a cliff, then rode you to near orgasm in front of families”—you know, that kind of outfit. My conservative, crisp button-downs tucked into skinny jeans don’t seem quite right either.

  I’ve fought the hormone-crazed responses Lewis draws out of me, because getting close to him scares me. It wouldn’t just be sex with Lewis. He’s different. I’m different with him.

  I grab a navy sleeveless lace dress. It’s not formfitting or cleavage-baring, but it cinches at the waist with a wide black band and stops several inches above my knees. Classy, with sex appeal. The black and metallic heels go on next, because that night at the boathouse in those heels was magical. Lewis didn’t run when I told him why I freaked out at the cascades, like I expected. He kissed me.

  I might not be ready for a new relationship, but this thing between us has a life of its own. I haven’t completed the mudder, but I feel stronger and good about myself. Maybe it’s the training, maybe it’s the guy training me.

  I pause with my hand on the underwear drawer. I rarely trust guys, but I trust him.

  The A-hole had access to my body, but not me. Lewis sees everything—and he still seems to like me. Almost everything. He doesn’t know about my mom.

  On a whim, I pull out a sexy panty-bra combo.

  A rap at the front door has me clutching the underwear to my chest. What the heck? I glance in the mirror. My hair is a half-dry frizzy mess and I’m in my bathrobe. I will die if this is Lewis and he’s early.

  Tucking the robe closed, I peer out the window. A car I don’t recognize is parked on the street in front of our house. I stuff the sexy undies under a pillow and set the security chain on the front door before opening it an inch.

  A pretty, older, redheaded version of Cali stands there. I let out a breath. “Maddie.”

  “Hi, sweetheart.” I release the chain and Cali’s mom steps inside. “Getting ready to go somewhere?”

  My face heats a degree or two. “Um, I have a date.”

  Her smile widens. “That good, huh? Well, don’t let me keep you. I could use a glass of water, but I’ll get it.” She waves me off when I start for the kitchen.

  “Good grief,” she says a second later and I look over my shoulder. She’s staring at the sink. “You girls have things growing in here.”

  Yeahhh, we’re not so good about the dishes. Cali and I don’t have a dishwasher and this washing by hand business is something I liken to the Dark Ages. Tyler’s presence hasn’t helped. If anything, he’s made it worse. Basically, the dishes don’t get done unless an item is needed, and then we wash said item and leave the rest to molder.

  “Sorry, Maddie. Let me wash something—”

  She holds up a hand. “No, no. I’ve got this. It’s not often I get to take care of you kids.”

  And that’s the difference between Maddie and my mother. My mom would have pinched her nose and moved to another room.

  I blow-dry my hair, apply a minimal amount of makeup, and dress. When I return to the kitchen, Maddie is elbow-deep in sudsy water, clean dishes piling at a rapid pace on a dishtowel to her right.

  She glances over. “Oh, honey. You look gorgeous.”

  I fidget with the bracelet I chose. It’s a black and gold chain that drew my eye in one of the boutiques along the strip. Cali insisted I buy it. She said it added rock-and-roll to my plain wardrobe. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

  Her eyes blank. “Too much what?”

  I glance down. “Legs? Heels?”

  Her expression warms. “No honey, you look very pretty and put together.”

  “So, not slutty, because—”

  “Slutty?” She laughs. “Gen, honey, how can you look slutty? You are either loose with your body or you’re not. Nothing can make you look slutty except acting slutty.”

  “Like hooking up in public?” My voice comes out several octaves too high. I want to take back my words the second they are out.

  Maddie raises her eyebrows. “Well, now, if we’re talking about a practice of making out with a string of different men in public, one could argue a looser interpretation of dating. On the other hand, even if you slept with several men, did it shame you—make you feel bad about yourself? Or are you happy?”

  Being with Lewis makes me feel real, not some shadow of myself. He’s the only one I’m interested in making out with on top of a cliff. “Happy.”

  “Then you’re good, sweetie.” She wipes her hands on a towel and props her fists on her narrow waist. “Now, where is that son of mine? You wouldn’t happen to know where he’s hiding? I have a few words for him.”

  That doesn’t sound good.

  I shake my head. “He’s usually out during the day, but he comes home around this time … before he heads out again with his friends.” I hope I’m not getting Tyler in trouble. We’re adults, but the way Maddie is looking at me, I feel like I’m under the parental inquisition.

  I never had that with my mom. She pretty much let me do what I wanted, which is probably why I compulsively self-monitor my activities and attire.

  “Hmph.” Maddie’s mouth twists and she looks off as if worried.

  “Is everything okay?”

  She smiles, though it doesn’t reach her bright blue eyes. “I’m sure it’s fine. Tyler hasn’t returned to his job at the university. His employer got in touch with me. They thought something had happened to him. Must be a mix-up.” She doesn’t sound convinced.

  Tyler has been distracted. Not particularly happy, but happy to monopolize our television. He certainly doesn’t act like a guy who plans to return to Colorado anytime soon.

  “Don’t worry about it, honey,” she tells me when I have no answer for her. “I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  I have no doubt Maddie will. Cali’s mom is badass. She reminds me of Maryanne in that regard. No bullshit and not likely to put up with it. I have huge respect for Maddie and that’s why her words on the slutty front are more reassuring than anything my mom could have said.

  I’ve spent my life trying to not be like my mom. Until Lewis, I kept sex bottled up and compartmentalized. The couple of orgasms I’ve experienced came from the two times the A-hole, of all people, was particularly attentive. Letting go like that requires a loss of control I rarely allow. The A-hole had no hold over my heart. I wasn’t worried he’d damage it and I was right. In the end, he only hurt my pride.

  With Lewis, intimacy is like a vortex of sensation. Control is the last thing on my mind.

  I’m worried I’m turning into my mother, like some
sort of latent sluttiness gene is suddenly taking hold. I’m still not sure how I stopped at Cave Rock. The impending orgasm shocked the hell out of me. With the A-hole, those two times were blips in a stark horizon. With Lewis and the intensity of a simple kiss, I could see it happening all the time and that would be bad. If I can’t control my body, how will I protect my heart?

  Lewis shows up in a thin heather-gray sweater over a plaid button-down, the sweater and shirt sleeves rolled and bunched to his elbows.

  He had to show off the forearms. He really has no idea what they do to me.

  My hands shake as I grab my purse from the counter and introduce Maddie to Lewis.

  “Enjoy yourselves,” she calls and winks as we make our way out the door.

  Christ. Why did I mention making out in public?

  “Cali’s mom seems nice,” Lewis says as he veers his car off the strip and winds down a side street.

  “She’s amazing. Cali’s really lucky.”

  He glances over. “You’ve never mentioned your family.”

  Exactly. I try to avoid that conversation. But if the point of going out is to get to know each other … “There’s only my mom.” My gaze flickers to him. “No dad. Never knew him.”

  Lewis pulls into the parking lot of a nice-looking restaurant that has spiraled topiaries on either side of the entrance. “What’s your mom like?”

  And this is why I don’t talk about family. I don’t want people to assume I’m like my mom, but I won’t lie to Lewis. “Eccentric, beautiful, youthful.”

  “Beautiful and youthful I could guess by the look of her daughter.”

  He thinks I’m beautiful?

  “How is she eccentric?”

  We walk into the restaurant and my neck stiffens at his question—and from the look of this place. It’s French. The kind of over-the-top fancy restaurant my mom drags me to. “Well,” I say dryly, “for one, she’s obsessed with anything French. She legally changed her name to a French surname.”

  Lewis studies my face and follows my gaze, taking in the ornate furniture, white tablecloths, crystal dishware— “Come on.” He grabs my hand and heads out the door.