By Referral Only

by Lyla Payne

  Happiness squeezed my chest. He’d done those things before he learned about the website. Feeling lighter than I had in a long time, I looped an arm around his neck and pulled our mouths together. He kept his hands over mine and kept the moment as chaste as possible, but my stomach still flipped again and again while our lips moved together, tongues slipping lazily against each other’s.

  When we broke apart too soon, he eased back a little, taking another drink of mojito. “Tell me about growing up in Louisiana.”

  “Before or after the money happened?” I regretted the spontaneous response, nearly biting the end of my tongue in an attempt to recapture it.

  Cole’s expression didn’t change; he continued to pack away the remnants of our lunch. “Both.”

  I got up, my limbs shaky from the kiss and the rum and my unintentional confession, and wandered toward the water line. Warm waves sucked the sand from under my toes and then splashed again, covering my ankles and depositing a bit of calm along with them. It wasn’t as though my past was a big dirty secret, but all of this felt too much like trusting Cole. Unlike most of the men I’d met, he seemed hellbent on actually getting to know me before he’d let that happen.

  How close could I let him get and still protect my heart?

  I felt Cole come up behind me more than heard him and turned, trying and failing to keep my hair from tangling in the wind. “My father’s company went public when I was nine. We lived in one of the poorer parishes in Louisiana—dirt roads, one-bedroom houses, every color kid you could imagine. I had friends, I spent my afternoons making mud pies, evenings chasing fireflies in my bare feet. My mom used to have a devil of a time wrestling me into a bath.”

  I smiled at the memory of my mother, relaxed and smiling, the way she’d been before her own empire took off and demanded all of her time and attention.

  “It sounds lovely,” Cole said carefully, his eyes locked on mine. “I grew up similarly outside of Elgin—Scotland, obviously. My brothers would roll me in cow shit so that they would have more time to play while my mother scrubbed the stink loose.”

  “That’s disgusting.” But adorable.

  “And after the money?”

  I slammed the last of the mojito and tossed the water bottle back toward our blanket, then turned and waded into the water. Talking to Cole felt too natural. It made it seem like we had everything in common, but it was a lie. I wasn’t here to find a boyfriend. I was here to spend a hopefully sexy afternoon with a boy that turned me on like no other, not to hunt mythical creatures.

  Cole was auditioning for the role of the boyfriend, and although I wanted to see how far he would go to secure the part, I knew he’d get cut in the end.

  Warm water hit my thighs, cooling some of the raging heat from just being in close proximity to him. It soaked my white skirt until it clung to my legs, then crept over my belly button.

  “What are you doing?”

  I spun, a saucy grin on my face. If there was one thing I knew, it was how to distract a guy. “Want to teach me how to swim?”

  “Please tell me you’re kidding. Because I’m not going to jump in and save you in my clothes.” He glanced down at his khaki shorts and Whitman swimming polo, then back at me. The concern darkening his eyes almost made me giggle but I kept a straight face.

  “Nope.”

  “Ruby, be serious. If you can’t swim, come back out. The ocean’s nothing to screw around with. It’s dangerous.”

  I pretended to stumble backward, sitting down in the water, which still only came to my nose, and thrashed around. Water filled my mouth when I couldn’t hold back the laughter and sucked in a mouthful, and my very real sputtering spurred Cole into action. He tore off his shirt and was at my side, scooping me into his arms within seconds. He held me against him with one arm and swiped my soaked hair out of my eyes with a shaking hand.

  His frantic expression went slack when he realized my gasps were mostly due to the belly laughs taking control of my limbs. He dropped me back into the waves.

  When I came up the second time, still spitting water and laughing my ass off, his stern eyes started to crinkle. A smile twitched the edges of his lips. “You got me.”

  “Oh, Lifeguard Cole, will you save me? I think I need mouth-to-mouth!” I swooned back under the waves.

  Cole’s strong hands reached into the water and grabbed my waist, hoisting me to my feet. Once extracted from the warm ocean, the afternoon air chilled me, and a glance down at my now see-through pale pink top and white skirt revealed that I might as well be naked. I looked up to find Cole’s eyes perusing the same sight, and my body responded—my heart pounded, my skin heated up, and the world felt heavy under the push and pull of the tide between us.

  Water droplets clung to the bronzed skin stretched across his broad chest and shoulders. The khakis hung low on his waist and plastered against his crotch, and the sight made my own throb with need. I took two steps toward him, sliding my palms across his slick muscles and leaning in to press my mouth to his skin. The saltwater mixed with chlorine mixed with musky boy tasted delicious, and Cole’s quick take of breath tasted even better.

  In one swift movement Cole slid an arm behind my knees and the other behind my shoulders, cradling me against his chest as he went for my mouth, devouring my lips and tongue with more fervor than on the beach earlier.

  We were still kissing when he slogged out of the water and back up the sand, and when he dropped to his knees and pressed me back into the blanket. Without thinking, I pulled my soaked top off and tossed it to the side, yanking Cole closer to feel the sensation of his still damp skin against mine. The section of beach was secluded, plus two sand dunes hid the spot we’d chosen for our picnic pretty well.

  His hands were everywhere, lighting fires on my stomach, hips, and breasts while his mouth spread flames along my neck and collarbone. I pulled his face back to mine and slid my tongue along his bottom lip, eyes open to drink in the way his lashes fluttered when I did something he liked. His hips settled against mine, erection pressing between my open thighs, and it felt so good I wanted to cry.

  This was the connection I wanted from Liam—the kissing, the touching, the buildup to what had to be an amazing final number. Cole brought it all without even taking my clothes off. We had something chemical, a reaction that happened when our lips met and our skin touched, that just didn’t happen every day.

  He raised up and rolled to my side, turning me with him so that our legs tangled and our lips didn’t have to part, and slid my sopping skirt up until his hand rested on my bare hip. Fingers slipped under the edge of my underwear and I groaned into his mouth. They slid along the slippery wetness, a mixture of ocean water and my body’s insane desire to be ready for his, then dipped inside me.

  I clenched around him, holding my breath so I didn’t scream. His other hand slid one bra strap off my shoulder, lowering it until he pushed the cup out of the way. His lips teased my breast with soft kisses until his tongue found my nipple and tugged it into his mouth. My back arched, shoving me harder against him, and the sensation of his mouth and tongue and fingers still working magic nudged me toward the edge of a cliff.

  My hips rocked against his hand, the fabric of my body about to tear from the building orgasm. Holy fuck, nothing had ever felt so amazing in my entire life. When he crushed my lips with his again, his tongue invading my mouth with his fingers deep inside me, thumb brushing the spot that ached the most with the perfect amount of pressure, the combination shoved me off the cliff.

  Waves of intense pleasure crashed over me, pushed me down and held me under while they rolled over me. My fingernails dug into the muscles bulging between his neck and shoulders, words leaving my throat in a guttural whisper that turned to a sobbed shriek.

  I wasn’t sure how long it took the world to come back, but somehow, the experience did nothing to diminish my need for Cole. I wanted more, and kissed him with increased fervor as my hands pulled his hips against me, finding his hardnes
s and squeezing.

  “Don’t stop,” I whispered.

  That’s when Cole froze.

  Chapter 15

  There was suddenly space between us, and not only the physical kind. He hadn’t even moved that far, and his hand was still on my hip, but my pleading had changed something.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just think we should get going.”

  “Get going?” My brain struggled to compute the statement, even knowing what I knew about Cole’s reputation. He had been as into this as I had, I was sure of it.

  “Yeah. I didn’t mean for things to get so far out of hand. I have an initiation thing.”

  I reached down and plucked his hand from my hip, settling it against the curve of my breast instead, and watched his eyelashes flutter again. His thumb stroked gently, standing me at attention in the space a breath, but I noticed his hand shaking.

  “Are you sure you want to go?” I asked, gritting my teeth to keep from groaning at the blissful teasing sensation.

  His eyes darkened with lust as they met mine. “Why is it so easy for you to bare your admittedly phenomenal body, but try so hard to hide the rest of you?”

  It was my turn to freeze. This wasn’t how it went. I got naked and guys forgot about wanting to talk, or getting me to talk, or thinking about all of the reasons we would never work out. I didn’t want Cole to know me—it would hurt worse that way when he walked. I wanted him inside me, though, more than I could have imagined.

  He had given me the most amazing orgasm of my life and now he was kind of ruining it.

  In that moment, I knew what had drawn Emilie back to Quinn over and over again. The idea that no matter how long she lived, her body would never fit anyone else’s so perfectly. I wanted to know what it felt like to be with Cole, to connect everywhere, to know for sure if it was as crazy good as this afternoon made it seem.

  The fact that he obviously didn’t feel the same pull made me feel black and oily and dirty inside, like I might be sick. My anger arrived just in time to hide the crushing disappointment. I sat up knocking his hand off me, and adjusted my bra until it covered me. “What about you, Cole?”

  “What about me?”

  “You’re really good about asking questions and prying into my personal life, but you never talk about you.”

  “I told you about my family.”

  “Right. What else?”

  “What else do you want to know?”

  “Why do you lead girls on?”

  Cole didn’t answer, running trembling hands through his hair. We stared at each other for a minute, then he got up and walked to the shoreline, grabbed his Whitman shirt, and put it back on. The little part of me that didn’t want to fight mourned the loss of the sight of his naked chest, because damn.

  I stood and slid my skirt to my ankles stepping out of it and smashing my outfit into a ball, then stuffing it in the cooler. The blanket covered my pretty much naked body, but not before I caught Cole looking. My anger bubbled hotter. He wanted me. What was he afraid of?

  “Why. Do. You. Lead. Girls. On? It makes us feel stupid. I feel like an idiot right now, in case you were wondering, or like some mentally defective virgin that can’t read the most obvious signs.” He still didn’t respond. “I’m guessing this is where I stomp off like some discarded slut and we never see each other again.”

  “Ruby, stop. You’re not a slut and I want to see you again. I don’t want you to leave, but I can’t…I’m not ready to have sex with you today.”

  “Well, obviously not now. I think the mood ran into the ocean and committed a rather dramatic suicide.”

  “I….” He rubbed a hand over his short hair, avoiding my gaze. “Can we slow things down?”

  “Says the guy who had his fingers inside me two minutes ago.”

  He flinched at my crass description. “Can you please trust me, Ruby? A little longer?”

  “Here’s a wild idea, Cole. How about you trust me? I’ve answered the majority of your prying questions, and unlike you, I’ve never lied about what I want from you. I like you, we’re crazy attracted to each other, and we have fun together. I’d like to continue seeing you, even though I’m well aware that it won’t ever be serious. But you? You can’t even trust me with the reason you’re humiliating me right now.”

  “Jesus, I’m not trying to humiliate you. How do you think I feel? The frat guy who won’t seal the deal with the most beautiful, smart, fireball of a girl at Whitman?”

  “You could have sealed the deal.” I stepped toward him, deciding to try a different tack, or maybe just to prove to my pride that the problem wasn’t physical. His chest tightened under my touch and I stared up into his face, sliding my hand down to squeeze him through his shorts. He hardened against my palm, and bit back a groan when I rubbed lightly. “You could be buried inside me right now, fucking the girl you claim is the most beautiful, smart, fiery girl at Whitman on the beach in the middle of the afternoon.”

  He sucked in a shaky breath.

  “Instead you’d rather keep your secrets bottled up and your dick in your pants.” I stepped away, irritated at the way he almost fell forward trying to maintain contact. “Maybe I can guess your big secret. The rumors run the gamut, but you’re not impotent, obviously. I don’t think you’re gay, although I’ve been wrong before on that one.”

  “I’m not gay. I think you can see that the plumbing works fine. Let’s stop this game.”

  “Oh, come on, this is fun. You’re missing a ball? It’s crooked? Herpes?”

  “Ruby, stop. I don’t want to fucking talk about it, okay?”

  The memory of his shaking hands, of his begging me to slow things down, slammed into my chest. “Are you a virgin?”

  He didn’t answer, staring at me with his mouth slightly open as though he meant for words to come out, but none did.

  “It’s okay if you are.” I felt a little bad, making fun of a virgin, though how that gorgeous man could have made it to twenty-one without getting laid baffled me. It made me wonder what he thought of me, trying to seduce him in the open like I was Mae West.

  “I’m not a virgin, Ruby. Drop it.” The tips of his ears reddened, but it was anger this time, not embarrassment. It radiated from him like heat.

  “What, do you think I’m trying to get knocked up? Trap me a Scottish prince?” All of the color drained out of his face at the suggestion, making me think perhaps I’d hit the nail on the head.

  Disgust clenched my fists. “I have an IUD, Cole. Despite your obvious worry, I’m not that kind of girl. I have my own goals, and none of them include playing nursemaid to you and a bunch of your brats.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it, then repeated the process. The longer we stood there not naked, him refusing to open up to me, the tighter my throat clenched around unshed tears. The fact that he didn’t trust me actually hurt more than the fact that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to sleep with me.

  That was the moment I knew I was royally fucked in a completely not fun way.

  “That’s not it, either,” he managed, finally.

  “Then there’s really only one logical reason. You don’t like me. This is your awkward as fuck way of ending fledgling relationships. Which is still weird as hell, given that you are a guy with a working penis. It’s just super discerning and I obviously don’t make the cut.”

  “That’s not it at all. There are things you don’t understand.”

  I’d had enough. Of course there were things I didn’t understand—because he didn’t want to tell me. Which meant not only did he not see this lasting, he didn’t even want to give it a try.

  Tears burned the backs of my eyes and the growing lump in my throat meant I couldn’t hold them off much longer. “You know what? I don’t even care. I’m used to not making the cut with the guys at this school. Thanks for the orgasm. It was fun.”

  Without waiting to hear whatever lame-ass excuse he came up with next, I turned and left. He h
ad a cell phone and a driver. Cole Stuart could find his own goddamn way home.

  ***

  It took me most of the drive back to the DE house to cry it out, and another hour or so to calm down over a cup of tea spiked with brandy.

  That’s when I started to feel badly.

  My mouth, as usual, had gotten way out of hand. Cole’s stopping our hot make-out session had embarrassed me, especially given that I had no idea what nonsense I’d babbled while he played my body like an instrument he was intimately acquainted with, but lashing out had been wrong. No one knew about guarding insides better than I did. I was the one who went around living up to everyone’s unseemly expectations, pretending that I didn’t want anything more than hot sex out of my relationships, all so that people would assume they knew me and not bother trying to probe further.

  But when Cole, who had been nothing but sweet to me, said he didn’t want to talk about something, I hadn’t understood. When had I become such a hypocrite?

  “You’re not a hypocrite, Rubes. It is weird. And you don’t hide from everyone. I know you want something real in your life. It just seems like, impossible to find.”

  “For some of us,” I said wryly, peering over Emilie’s shoulder as she perused the updates to the website.

  She spun around in the chair, giving me a serious look. “Ruby. Last year, when I was first considering hooking up with Quinn, do you remember what you told me?”

  “You’d better double bag it?”

  “No.” She giggled. “That he wasn’t the kind of guy I should fall for—that I should sleep with him and then forget him.”

  “Oh. That, too.”

  “Well, that was Quinn. This is Cole, and I’m telling you that he’s the opposite. He is the kind of guy you fall for, the one that sweeps you off your feet. You don’t have to keep pretending you just want to sleep with him. You’ve got it bad. It’s okay.”

  My eyes filled with tears. “I can’t like him. It won’t work out.”

  “Maybe it will. Not everyone is like Michael, or those girls at your high school, or the three or four d-bags that have ditched you since freshman year. Maybe Cole’s different.”