by Tara Wyatt
“Oh, I like volleyball,” said Grandma Rose, sipping her drink.
What started out as a friendly game grew more competitive as they played, with the score going back and forth. Any time he had the chance, Mike aimed the ball right at Dean’s face. But Dean refused to react, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. If he wanted to be an ass, so be it.
And while Dean wasn’t spiking the ball in Mike’s face, he did want to win. Badly. Because of the way Mike had hurt Carly, and to prove . . . something. He brushed away the thought and the confusing knot of emotions that came with it. Whatever. Didn’t matter.
Sweat dripped down his torso as he ran through the sand, dropping down to set the ball for Matt, who ran forward and spiked it over the net. But Ethan managed to get a hand under it, keeping it alive just enough for Luke to set it up against the net. Ashley ran forward, jumping to tip it over, but Carly jumped, blocking it. The ball dropped to Ashley’s feet.
“One more point and we win,” Matt called to Luke. Luke grumbled and tossed the ball back over to their side. The twins had always been competitive.
Dean moved to stand beside Carly at the net. Her skin was flushed, glistening with sweat. Her hair, thrown up in a messy ponytail, stuck to her face in damp tendrils.
Is that what she’d look like after sex? After hours in bed and multiple orgasms? Ever since he’d touched his lips to her neck, he hadn’t been able to shake the thought of getting Carly naked and underneath him. She’d tasted so good, warm and sweet, her skin soft under his lips. He hadn’t meant to take it as far as he had, hadn’t meant to get so swept up in it, but she’d been so responsive and had felt so good that he hadn’t been able to help himself.
Shit. He couldn’t let his mind go down that road, and not just because he didn’t want another raging salmon situation in his swim trunks.
From behind him, Ellie served the ball over the net. Luke returned it easily, bumping it back. Carly crouched low and set the ball up. Dean jumped and spiked it over the net, sending it into the sand at Dr. Mike’s feet.
Ha. Suck it, Dr. Mike.
Ellie and Matt whooped, and Carly jumped up from the sand. “Yes!” she cheered, throwing her arms around Dean’s neck in celebration. Instinctively, his hands went to her waist, and everything inside him went very still at the sensation of her hot skin against his.
Later, he’d tell himself it was because he knew Mike was watching them. But in the moment, he didn’t think. He simply dipped his head and caught Carly’s mouth with his. She let out a squeak, but didn’t pull away. Her lips softened against his, and he stroked his tongue along her bottom lip before breaking the kiss. Her breasts pressed into his chest as she sucked in a deep breath, as though that small kiss had stolen her air.
Slowly, she let her arms drop from around his neck, her fingers skimming over his arms. He tried to read what was in her eyes, but couldn’t, because even through the opaque lenses of her sunglasses, she looked as lost and confused as he felt.
“I . . . um . . .” She shook her head and then laid a hand on his cheek. Arching up onto her toes, she kissed him, deeper and sweeter than before, her tongue sliding against his. God, she tasted like sunshine and need, and his entire body tightened, his blood throbbing hotly through his veins. He slid one arm around her waist, pulling her closer, while he cupped her cheek with his other hand. With his thumb on her chin, he tilted her head back, just a little, just enough that he could take more of what he wanted. She sucked in a breath as he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with long, slow sweeps of his tongue.
Fuck, but she tasted good. Perfect. Right. Like no one ever had before.
She broke the kiss, her chest now heaving, her nipples hard against his chest. “We probably shouldn’t, um . . .”
She was right, but he was a selfish asshole, and he needed more. So, he kissed her again, bringing his mouth back to hers for a hot, deep kiss. She moaned softly, her body melting instantly into his. He stroked a hand up and down her spine, savoring the feel of her pressed against him, the yielding way her lips parted for him, the soft warmth of her mouth under his, her taste, her scent. All of it. Someone let out a wolf whistle, but he didn’t care. He’d started out wanting to prove to Dr. Mike that she was his, but something had shifted, and now he only wanted to prove it to himself.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispered against his mouth, and he pulled away. She stepped out of his arms and walked back toward her beach chair without a backward glance.
He knew she was right, that getting physical with her was a bad idea, that they were a bad idea. Knew he’d only hurt her if given the chance. Just because he was confused didn’t mean he had to drag her into it. She knew what she wanted—a steady boyfriend with the promise of a future. He couldn’t give her that. He didn’t know how, didn’t know if he was ready even to try something like that.
It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to get naked with Carly Jensen; it was a terrible idea.
But a tiny voice from somewhere deep down inside asked: if it was a bad idea, why did it feel so right?
* * *
It had been just over twenty-four hours since the kiss. Just over twenty-five hours since the neck kissing and raging salmon incident. And Carly was probably about to set a world record for the number of times someone could play back a memory in a twenty-four-hour period, because try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She’d replayed the kiss by the pool yesterday. At dinner. Having drinks with everyone in the lobby. Lying awake in bed, Dean breathing peacefully beside her from his side of the pillow wall. This morning on the beach. Now, sitting by the pool with the group.
She’d kissed Dean. And he’d kissed her right back, and God, his mouth had felt incredible, both on her neck and against her lips. Knowing he kissed like that wasn’t doing anything to help her increasingly confusing crush on him. They’d awkwardly avoided talking about the kiss for the rest of the day, neither of them bringing it up, both of them acting as though they’d been zapped with an electric shock any time they touched.
She replayed it again, the feel of his tongue sliding against hers, his strong hands on her bare skin. The heat that had exploded over her skin, the mammoth-sized butterflies that had flapped mercilessly in her stomach. The way she’d wanted more, but knew she couldn’t have it.
And as she replayed it, she reminded herself that it wasn’t real. That he’d only brought her here because his family didn’t trust him not to screw the nearest available woman. Clearly, she wasn’t even on his radar, even if he was on hers. He’d brought her here because she was apparently the one woman on the planet he didn’t intend to sleep with.
Yay.
Whatever. It was fine. It was a just a kiss. No big deal.
She leaned back in her lounge chair, letting the mesh cradle her as she pulled in a deep breath of warm air. The pool was busy this afternoon, with most of the loungers occupied with people, beach bags, and towels. The pool itself was gigantic, organically shaped with several winding arms snaking off of the main body. A bar sat in the center of the pool, staffed with a couple of friendly bartenders and constantly surrounded by people hanging out on the tiled stools in the pool. Latin-tinged pop music pumped from the bar’s speakers, echoing off of the water.
Ellie—whom Carly had found to be sweet, friendly, and funny—tapped her arm and pointed at the people by the pool bar. “Two things. One, check out the sunburn on that guy. Ouch.”
Carly giggled and grimaced in sympathy. She’d managed to avoid burning so far, but she knew what a bad sunburn like the one the tomato-hued guy in the pool was sporting felt like.
“And two, I don’t even want to think about how much urine is in that pool. No way they’re all getting out to go to the bathroom while they sit there drinking all day.”
Carly wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. Good point. Maybe I’ll try to avoid that general area.”
Matt approached, several plastic cups of golden beer in his hands. He handed one to both Ellie
and Carly. “Where’s Dean?”
Carly tipped her head in the direction of the pool. “Playing with Ethan. Luke and Christie had to go approve a few things for the wedding.”
“Gotcha.” Matt settled back into his lounger.
Mark, Steve, and Dave had gone golfing, while Ellen, Grace, and Rose had gone into town to do a little shopping, along with Mike and Ashley, leaving the rest of the group to hang out by the pool.
Carly’s eyes drifted over to where Dean stood in the pool, his hands over his eyes. “Marco!” he called, turning in a slow circle.
“Polo!” Ethan was only a few feet behind Dean, who lunged back to tag him a second too late. Ethan swam away, a big grin on his face.
“Marco!” Dean kept his eyes closed, his hands planted on his hips. Droplets of water clung to his chest, sliding down over his abs.
Ethan scooted up the ladder, leaving a single toe in the pool. “Polo!” He called out in a goofy voice.
“Hey! Fish out of water!” Dean pointed in the direction of Ethan’s voice. Dean opened his eyes. “Aha! I knew it. You can’t trick me!”
“Aw, man!” But Ethan was laughing as Dean approached him.
“You know what we do with fish?” For some reason, Dean put on an overly exaggerated French accent. “We srow zem back in zee watair!” He slung Ethan over his shoulder and then tossed him back into the pool.
Carly watched Dean playing with Ethan, and it tugged at something low in her stomach that she brushed away with a sip of beer.
Luke reappeared, pulling off his shirt as he walked toward them.
“Where’s Christie?” asked Matt.
Luke pointed toward the resort’s main building with this thumb. “Dress, hair, and makeup stuff. Jenna went to go help her.”
“Perfect!” said Shannon, red curls blazing behind her as she walked up with a fresh round of beers in her hands. “You’re just in time.”
“In time for what?” Luke asked.
“Oh, we’re going to get drunk in the pool and play Never Have I Ever.”
“Yeah, count me out,” he said, sending her a warm smile. “But you guys have fun.” He jumped in the pool and headed toward Ethan, presumably to relieve Dean from Marco Polo duties. Everyone else hopped into the pool to follow Shannon to one of the alcoves off of the main part of the pool. Circular benches, flanked with elegant columns rising out of the water, were emerged in the pool, with jets nestled into the back of the benches.
Shannon set the drinks down on the ledge. “Everyone knows the rules?”
“Sure,” said Ellie. “Someone shares something they haven’t done, and if anyone in the group has done the thing, you drink.”
Carly settled herself down onto the submerged bench, the water up to her breasts, just as Dean sat down beside her. Matt passed the beers out to everyone.
Shannon smiled mischievously, and Carly’s stomach dipped. She had a feeling this was about to get interesting. Dean’s leg grazed hers as he leaned back against the bench, sprawling his arms over the back, the plastic cup of beer looking small in his big hand.
“Never have I ever smoked pot,” said Shannon.
Matt drank, and Carly took a big sip of her beer, savoring the cool liquid.
“Why, Carly Jensen, I had no idea you were such a bad girl,” Dean said, his tone light and teasing.
“Oh, please. It was like three times in college. I can’t believe you’re such a goody-goody.”
“I am not a goody-goody. I just happen to treat my body like a temple.”
At his words, she couldn’t stop her eyes from drifting down his chiseled torso. “Right. That’s why you and I eat bacon cheeseburgers together at least once a week.”
“Carly, your turn,” said Shannon.
“Okay. Never have I ever . . . been in handcuffs.”
Ellie’s cheeks flushed unmistakably, and both she and Matt drank.
Dean choked out a laugh. “You know, I think it’s pretty funny that the cop is the one who’s both smoked weed, and been in handcuffs.”
Matt shrugged. “The first one was in high school, and the second one was . . .” He smirked. “Off-duty.”
Ellie splashed him, a semi-mortified look on her face. “My turn. Never have I ever had a threesome.”
Nobody moved for a moment, and then Dean cursed quietly, lifting his drink to his lips.
Carly shook her head. It served as a timely reminder of just who Dean was, and how he lived his life. It didn’t matter that he was good looking and sweet and funny. He was totally wrong for her, and letting her jumbled emotions get the better of her would only lead to ruining their friendship.
Matt leveled his detective’s gaze at them. “Never have I ever dated a co-worker.”
Shannon sipped her beer, and as Carly watched her she felt Dean nudge her in the ribs.
Oh. Right.
She drank, licking a stray drop of beer from her lip. “Who did you have a threesome with?” She asked a question she probably wouldn’t have asked if she wasn’t riding a nice buzz.
“It was a while ago. Nobody you know.”
“Two women?”
He laughed. “Yeah, Car. Two women. No judgment here, but personally not interested in dueling swords with another dude.”
“Did you just refer to your . . . er . . .” She stopped herself. Jesus, she’d been about to say cock. “Raging salmon, as a sword?”
“Excuse me, raging salmon?” said Ellie. “What the frak is a raging salmon?”
Dean chuckled. “Inside joke. My turn. Never have I ever had sex in the shower.”
Everyone else, including Carly, drank. She turned to face him, her eyebrows raised. “Really? Never?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Never.” His knee brushed against her, and she felt her stomach flutter and then tighten, her mind once again flashing back to the kiss. His arm was still draped over the back of the bench, and his fingers grazed her shoulder. She sucked in a breath, wanting to move closer to him, but knowing she shouldn’t.
But everyone thought they were a couple, so she shifted on the bench until her hip was flush with his. God, everything was getting so mixed up when it came to Dean. What she should and shouldn’t want, what she should and shouldn’t do.
Shannon cleared her throat before taking her turn. “Never have I ever had sex on the first date.”
Everyone drank except Carly.
Matt zeroed in on them. “So you two didn’t on your first date? Dean must really be serious about you.”
Carly shook her head and then shrugged, without a single clue how to respond to that. She trailed a finger up and down her plastic cup, playing with the condensation, trying to think of a question. “Never have I ever had multiple orgasms.” She felt rather than saw Dean’s head whip around lighting fast. Again, it was something she wouldn’t have said without the beer, and she belatedly realized how it sounded, since they were supposed to be dating, and presumably sleeping together, and Dean had a reputation for . . .
Oops.
But no one in the group said anything as Shannon drank.
Ellie whispered something to Matt, and then took her turn. “Never have I ever gone skinny dipping.”
A wolfish grin spread across Matt’s face as he and Shannon drank. Apparently, Dean, although experienced, was somewhat water-averse when it came to sex.
The game continued, and Dean nudged her and dipped his head to whisper in her ear.
“Really? Never?” His voice had taken on a husky tone, and she curled her toes underwater.
“The skinny dipping, or the, uh, the other thing?”
“Both. The skinny dipping,” he said, and then his voice dropped even further, nothing more than a delicious rumble that she felt in her belly. “And the multiple orgasms.”
Oh, God. If he said orgasms again in that voice, she might just have one right here in the pool.
She shook her head, trying subtly to rub her thighs together. “Nope.”
“Mmm. That’s a shame
,” he said, his voice a soft growl. Something cracked open inside her, something she’d been fighting back since that kiss yesterday. She was willing to bet a week’s worth of tips that Dean could make her come as many times as he wanted, and God, she wanted to find out if she was right. She couldn’t deny it or fight it any longer—she wanted him, badly. She shouldn’t, but she did, and in a way she couldn’t ignore. It would risk their friendship, and it might make things weird. But what if it didn’t?
What if he wanted her as much as she wanted him, and they were both playing chicken with the truth?
Chapter Six
Dean and Carly walked back toward their room in comfortable silence, their flip-flops smacking against the path as the sun sank lower in the sky. After the game of Never Have I Ever, they’d lounged in the pool for another hour or so, riding out the buzz, swimming lazily. Every time she’d brushed by him, her skin sliding against his, he’d felt it low in his gut and had waged an almost constant battle against an erection. He’d won, but just barely.
They entered their building and climbed the stairs to their room. She pulled the key card from the beach bag and tapped it against the door. Before she’d pulled her hand back, Dean reached for the knob, his fingers brushing against her wrist. Just touching her made him feel so good, so warm, that he let his hand linger, tracing his thumb over the soft skin on the underside of her wrist. Her pupils dilated as her nipples hardened beneath her bikini top, and he almost kissed her right then, right there, at the undeniable evidence that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
And he’d just lost the battle against that erection. She glanced down, first at where he was still touching her wrist, and then further, and she inhaled sharply. He had to somehow regain control of the situation, and he pushed the door open, holding it for her and gesturing her inside.
“Do you want to shower first?” he asked as she walked into the room ahead of him.
She turned and studied him, biting her lip. “No, you go ahead.” Her eyes once again dropped to his cock. Given that his swim trunks were still damp, he knew she could see the outline of it clear as day, and there was nothing he could do to hide it.
