She nodded, but held out her hand for the bag. “Did you pack towels?”
“Of course.”
“Sunblock?”
“Yep.” He crossed his arms over his chest as she spent the next ten minutes pawing through the bag and reorganizing everything he’d packed. “You might be surprised to know that I’m a grown man who has packed a bag a time or two in his day.”
“I know that, but it’s better to spend a few minutes double-checking than getting down to the beach and realizing we forgot something.”
She must have heard the prissy tone in her voice because her cheeks turned pink and she zipped the bag closed. “Let’s just go.”
He chuckled and they stepped out the front door, locking it behind them. Lacey was double-checking the lock when a heavily accented voice called from down the pathway.
“Mr. and Mrs. Clemson?” A round young man dressed in a porter’s uniform huffed his way up the incline from the sprawling white building that acted as a reception and dining area for the all-villa resort.
Lacey stiffened, but Galen took her arm. “That’s us.” No point in making her explain the confusing Jerry Springer–esque situation to a stranger.
“I have some messages for you that were left with the front desk. Your mother would like you to call her as soon as possible. They started coming in early this morning, but we try not to bother guests until at least ten a.m. unless it’s a family emergency.”
He wouldn’t meet her gaze as he handed over a pile of creamy white paper, and Lacey took it with a frown. “Thank you.”
The porter swiped an arm over his sweaty brow and smiled. “No problem.”
Given his size and the redness of his face, it had clearly been a problem. Galen pulled a ten out of his pocket. “Thanks”—he glanced at the name tag—“Jesus. The missus and I appreciate it.”
Jesus smiled his thanks, pocketed the cash, and turned to start his slow descent back down the hill. Galen turned to Lacey, whose frown was deepening as she read.
“What is it?”
“From my mother.” She handed him the pile and pressed two fingers to her temple to rub.
He hadn’t read a word of it, and he was already annoyed. In a matter of one minute, Rowena had ratcheted up Lacey’s anxiety tenfold and it had him half wishing a house would fall on her. When he started reading, the half wish ramped up to burning desire.
Lacey—
Call me IMMEDIATELY. Do not make another move until you contact me.
—Mother.
He flipped to the next one.
Lacey—
Call me this instant. You’re behaving like a child.
—Mother
The next:
Take a day to sulk, pick yourself up by your bootstraps, and plan to return home tomorrow. There are multiple important matters that need your attention.
I will expect a call tomorrow with your flight number so I can send a driver to collect you at the airport.
Apparently, the salutations were no longer needed.
He fanned out the stack, and she shook her head. There were three more and, if the pattern held, they would only be increasingly hostile.
“Listen, I don’t think you should—”
She held up a hand. “Say no more. I agree. I’m done with her for the time being.” She took a deep breath and crumpled them into a ball. “Lead me to that beach, sir. I need some cooling off.”
She looked so strong in that moment, he wanted to pump his fist or give her a high five, but he held back. When he was preparing for a big fight, his trainer would take him mountain climbing to build up his hand strength and endurance. Max’s favorite piece of advice? Don’t look down until you reach the summit. Galen had asked why, thinking Max would give him some inspirational shit about the satisfaction of seeing how far he’d come at the end or something. Instead, Max had snorted, “Because it’s fucking scary.”
This was another small step toward independence for Lacey, and he wasn’t about to call too much attention to it, because it was definitely scary for her.
But inside? Inside he was beaming with pride.
.
An hour later, Galen found himself sitting under an umbrella on a lounge chair, seriously questioning his sanity. What the hell had he been thinking taking her to the beach? It had been bad enough with her prancing around in boxer shorts and a tank top, but this was ridiculous. She’d started off in some sort of muumuu-type cover-up, but after twenty minutes in the sultry heat, she’d seemed to gather her courage and had shucked it off. He, along with every other guy on that spit of beach, had nearly swallowed his tongue.
She stood before him now against the backdrop of crystal blue water in a nefarious white string bikini. Four triangles of cloth clung to her with no more aid than a slender chain on each curve of hip and one looped around her neck. It was enough to rock his socks off.
“Does it look stupid?” She wrapped her arms around her waist, which only succeeded in pressing her breasts together, plumping them against the edge of her suit, which, in turn, sent something plumping against his. “It looks stupid. I’m going to go to the gift shop and get a tank suit. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
She retrieved her cover-up and was in the process of tugging it back on by the time he finally trusted himself to speak. “Don’t.”
She paused and met his gaze. “I look silly. This isn’t me. I’m not ballsy enough to pull this off.” She bit her lip and turned away. “I just wanted…”
“I know what you wanted.” He would’ve stood, but his physiological response to her state of undress made that impossible unless he wanted to get himself arrested for indecent exposure. “You wanted to let go, have some fun, do something different and exciting.” The genuine sadness in her eyes kept him from adding, And for the record, I’m different and exciting.
She clutched the brightly patterned cloth more tightly in her hands. “Yeah.”
“So I don’t know why you’re trying to talk yourself out of it now. The hard stuff is over. You dumped the groom, ran out on your wedding reception, and jumped on the back of a Harley in your slip. Then you got drunk and flew to Puerto Rico with your best friend’s older brother, who, incidentally, thinks you look smoking hot. Who’s got more balls than you?” he asked, allowing some annoyance to trickle into his tone. His baiting her was terra firma for them both. Hopefully the familiarity of it would remind her that he was, and always had been, a straight shooter. He wasn’t blowing smoke up her ass here. A lot of people in her shoes would’ve crumbled after yesterday, but she’d handled that lights-out blow to the chin better than most of the heavyweights he’d fought.
Her eyes went so wide, she could’ve been a cartoon. “Y-You think I look hot?” Her wringing hands went limp and her cover-up fell to the sand.
He considered backpedaling rather than revealing exactly how much she affected him, but one look at the hope on her face killed that notion. Instead, he played it matter-of-fact. “I don’t think it, squirt. I know it. It’s like water’s wet, the sky is blue, Lacey looks fine as hell in her bikini.” He shrugged. “Facts are facts. You’ve gotta get some confidence working because I think your view of yourself is skewed. Fake it until you make it.”
She lifted her hands to cross them over her midsection again, but then froze, letting them drop to her sides. Sucking in a deep breath, she nodded, then snagged the cover-up. “I’ll try,” she said, and folded it into a neat little square before setting it on her chair.
His little head thanked him for the return of the visual smorgasbord while his big head cursed him for not minding his own damned business. He’d put himself in a terrible spot here. Sure, he wanted to make her feel better, but at this rate, he was going to have a Guinness Book–worthy case of blue balls.
“Want to go for a swim?” he asked, more out of self-preservation than anything. Cold water would be a godsend right now.
“I do, but most of my skin hasn’t seen the sun since summer, and so
me of these parts have never seen it.” She gestured to the smooth expanse of flat stomach. “I’ve got to slather on SPF five thousand until I get a base tan.”
He jammed a hand into the duffel bag he’d packed and pulled out the bottle of sunscreen.
“Smart thinking.” Only now he had to watch her apply it. He tossed it to her, and then settled back against the chair as if he were going to relax a while. As she uncapped the bottle and poured some lotion into her palm, he pinched his eyes closed. He would not think about her working that lotion over his cock until he came. He would not imagine bending her over and massaging it into her ass cheeks, his fingers trailing closer and closer to the heat between her thighs until she begged for more. He would not look, because that would only make it w—
His lids lifted of their own accord, and he heard himself ask, “Do you need help with your back?”
“Nope, I already got it. I do yoga so I’m super flexible.”
He bit back a groan. He definitely could’ve done without that little nugget of information. Now not only could he visualize them having wild monkey sex, he could also imagine doing it in some very creative positions.
She turned and jogged toward the ocean. He found himself mesmerized by the swing of her hips. “You coming?” she called over her shoulder.
Not yet, but that could be arranged in short order.
Damn, he was a perv. He really needed to do something about that. “Right behind you.”
She stopped at the edge of the water and dipped a careful toe in. Then she ran straight into the spray with reckless abandon, her delighted laughter spurring him to his feet. He covertly adjusted his man-junk as best he could and stood. There were at least a dozen other women reclined on colorful beach towels, similarly clothed, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Lacey.
By the time he reached the water, she was submerged up to her neck. He thanked God for small favors. The cool ocean lapped at his ankles as he watched her swim. Behind her, a monster wave was swelling. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Incoming!”
She turned her head and squealed, paddling toward him. At first he thought she was afraid and started toward her, but then he realized she was laughing. Right as the wave crested, she stretched her arms straight in front of her and came blasting his way, skimming across the top of the water like she was resting on a surfboard. The immense power of the ocean and the exhilaration on her face sent his heart pounding. The wave finally deposited her in a heap at his feet. The back of her white bikini bottoms was covered in mud and her top was…
Gone.
“That was so much fun. Come do one with me!” She was lying in the shallow water on her stomach and rose to a kneel before he could stop her. Her full breasts were streaked with wet sand, but it didn’t hide the twin hard peaks beckoning him. The blood drained from his brain, all headed south, and words wouldn’t come. He did manage to step closer, blocking her from the sun worshippers on the shore behind him.
Her smile dimmed. “What’s the matter? You don’t like salt water?”
“I like it fine.” His voice was gritty and he cleared his throat. “But you need to get back all the way in and lie on your stomach.”
She shot him a puzzled glance and then followed his gaze downward. Letting out a strangled “Gack!” she didn’t so much lay back down as she did pitch forward into the shallow water, flat on her face. She came up sputtering and spat out a mouthful of sand before slapping her hands over her breasts. Frantically, she squirmed toward deeper water, but down two working appendages and fighting the incoming waves, she wasn’t getting anywhere.
A child’s giggles broke the spell Lacey’s naked breasts had weaved over him, and he realized a family was entering the water right next to them. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he tugged her up into an embrace, pressing her chest to his. “Wrap your arms around me,” he said against her ear. “I’m going to stand and carry you out farther so no one can see you. Then, I’m going to go back to shore and get your cover-up, all right?”
She burrowed her head into the crook of his neck and nodded. There was a long pause and then she released her breasts to snake her arms around his neck. He sucked in a breath as her softness smashed against his hardness. The cool slide of her skin against his sent a sizzle of lust through him, so strong he nearly toppled over.
“This is so mortifying. This is why I don’t do anything wild or crazy. I suck at it. One bikini in my whole life and look what happens. Even when we were young, your sister used to say I was the kiss of death because whenever she convinced me to do something fun, I always ended up getting us caught or screwing it up somehow.”
He focused on her panicked babbling and clutched her thighs to stabilize her, forcing his feet to propel them forward.
“You okay? Am I too heavy?”
“Nope, I needed to adjust my grip, is all.” He stood, lifting her with him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He hadn’t thought that far ahead and groaned as her thighs straddled him, lining her pubic bone directly against the throbbing heat of his dick. She stiffened in his arms and gasped, the babbling coming to a screeching halt. His starving brain cast around fruitlessly for another way to carry her, but this was the only way to preserve her modesty, which in turn obliterated his.
When the water was deep enough to swim in, the strength of the waves began to rock her body against his in a torturous rhythm. The need to rock back, grinding into her softness, was so strong he had to stop for a second and get a grip. That’s when he felt it. The subtle shift of her hips as her body pressed closer, pulsing against his, as if driven by instinct. She clutched at his shoulders, burrowing closer, her nipples pebbling against his chest. The blast of want hit him so hard, he had to grit his teeth to keep from groaning.
Clutching at her thighs, he anchored her still. “Stop wriggling,” he said. His voice was low, gruff, and strained.
She froze. “S-sorry.”
The warm puff of air against his ear and the break in her voice almost threw him right over the edge. What would Little Lacey Garrity do if he stripped aside those tiny bikini bottoms and buried himself in her again and again until she screamed?
Not the plan, asshole.
He took a steadying breath and strode purposefully into the surf, reciting his times tables as he went. He wouldn’t think about how soft her breasts were, pillowed against him. Or how her tight little nipples were branding his chest. Or how they’d looked in the morning sunshine, pouty, glistening with ocean water, begging for his tongue.
“Okay, good enough,” he announced abruptly, and released her, stepping back like she was on fire.
She covered her breasts again, dipping low until she was immersed in the blue water.
He averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “We’re the only ones out this far, so if you turn to face the open ocean, no one will see,” he said, his voice almost guttural now. Too bad. He didn’t want to shock her, but he was only flesh and blood, and there was nothing he could do about it.
She didn’t respond to his suggestion and wouldn’t look at him.
“Lacey?” Still nothing. Shit. She was upset. He struggled to find words over the cacophony of his roaring libido. “It’s no big deal. Don’t let this derail you. You came here to let loose, to get away from the drama at home. Now you have a funny story to tell.” He tipped her chin so she had no choice but to look at him. “Talk to me, squirt.”
When she finally met his gaze, he wished she hadn’t. Her pupils were dilated, her nostrils flaring lightly as she struggled for air. The pulse in her neck fluttered, and he stared at it, overcome with the desire to close his teeth over the delicate skin there. The adrenaline rush of the situation may have intensified her feelings, but one thing was clear that hadn’t been the night before. Her body’s reaction to him wasn’t a fluke. She was as hot for him as he was for her.
Bad news for Lacey because, up until that moment, he’d relegated himself to the role of unofficial
guardian. But now that he knew the vibe he’d felt from her last night was more than just the alcohol and stress of the situation—now that he knew she wanted him for real?
It was on.
Chapter Five
“You’re a married woman,” she told herself. “At least until the annulment.” Lacey watched her reflection, waiting for it to roll its eyes at her stern reminder.
She muffled a groan. Crap. She was in big trouble. No. Huge, ginormous, major trouble, because she was madly in lust with her best friend’s brother and it was so not okay. She bent at the waist and rubbed the towel vigorously over her hair. Just the feel of Galen’s hard body against hers had her senses rioting in a way that even the whole tamale with Marty hadn’t. If she wasn’t sure she’d made a mistake in her choice of husbands before, she was sure of it now.
Was that what it was supposed to feel like? Wild and crazy and like you would do anything…anything at all for another taste? Or was it the sand and sun coupled with her first taste of real freedom? She’d had some during college, but since her parents had insisted she go to a posh school only forty minutes from home, even that had been tempered by their influence. Now she was free to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and there was no one to judge her for it.
Except Galen.
She straightened and hung the towel on the hook behind her. Somehow, despite the jabs they’d exchanged over the years, she got the distinct feeling they were in a judgment-free zone. She could act a fool, and he would stand back, watch, and smile. She could drink and dance and act crazy, and he’d be fine with that. Was his only motive to try and help her through this transition, encouraging her to let go a little and enjoy this trip? Or was there more to it? If the hot ridge in his bathing suit had been any indication, she would have to guess the latter.
She suppressed a shiver and tugged her dress over her head. Why now? Why after all these years had he finally decided to notice her?
“Save me some hot water,” he called through the door.
If she’d had the balls he gave her credit for, she would’ve suggested he join her next time. But she didn’t, and she wouldn’t. Instead she smoothed the skirt of her cotton sundress and opened the door. “I’ve been out for ten minutes now. I was getting changed.” She stepped into the bedroom and gestured to the bathroom door. “It’s all yours. Make sure you wipe out the drain when you’re done. And hang up your towel.”
Down for the Count (Dare Me 1) Page 5
