The Kiss on Castle Road (A Lavender Island Novel)

by Lauren Christopher

  She was truly in love.

  It was almost a relief when he stood to get back to their packs.

  Back at their spot, tucked at the edge of the cliffs, they stood on top of towels and peeled off their wet suits. Although they were back-to-back, Natalie couldn’t resist a peek. She took her suit off quickly, then looked back at Elliott, hesitating with hers in midair.

  The golden sun set his body ablaze with orange, outlining all the indentations of his muscles along his shoulders, pecs, and abs. His hair flopped forward as he shoved all his gear back into his bag. He straightened abruptly, dragging his T-shirt up with him, then stalled before slipping it over his head, caught by her expression.

  The rays of sun shone brightly between them, like spotlights on their indecision.

  His eyes dragged across her body again, this time with less embarrassment, as if he could sense the invitation was now open. He lifted his gaze to hers, staring imploringly into her eyes—questioning, wondering, asking silently what she wanted.

  She didn’t really know. She wanted him. That she was suddenly sure of. But she also wanted to know she could remain independent for three whole months. And to prove that to Paige. And to Olivia. And to herself . . .

  She had only two more days to go.

  It took everything Natalie had in her to look away.

  CHAPTER 24

  Elliott watched Natalie out of the corner of his eye as they chopped carrots at his kitchen counter. She was acting awfully strange. She was so much quieter than usual, and she seemed to be avoiding direct eye contact at all costs.

  He wondered if he’d just pushed it too far this afternoon with his adolescent staring at her bikini body. Then her wet-suit body. Then her undressing-back-to-the-bikini body. Then her just-showered body . . . He was a mess.

  He should probably apologize.

  She didn’t need him leering at her all afternoon. She’d made that perfectly clear, that she didn’t want that in her life. And he was—

  “So you just want to keep these all a uniform length,” she said.

  He nodded briskly, his hair falling into his eyes. “Got it.”

  “And you can just put them all into this bowl—then we’ll put a little glaze on them.”

  “Listen, Natalie.” He put the knife down and wiped his hands on a towel they had between them.

  He took a step closer, but she suddenly pushed herself back into the corner. Shame shot through him. “I’m sorry if I was making you uncomfortable today.”

  She waved her knife a little. “Could you move back there a little?”

  Shocked, he stepped back a few steps. “Am I making you uncomfortable right now?”

  “Not really. You’re just . . .” She started chopping carrots again. “You’re looking kind of good there, with your tight T-shirt and your just-out-of-the-shower damp hair, and I just need you to chop these carrots right now.”

  He didn’t know how to respond to that. He wasn’t sure what to do with that information, or how to deal with the undertone of frustration in her voice, or that . . . Was that flirting? So he just did what she wanted and chopped more carrots in silence, glancing over at her from time to time.

  “So now we make a glaze.” She pulled the brown sugar out of the groceries they’d just purchased, counting out a measurement to him, but he was no longer paying attention. He hoped she was writing this down for him.

  “Did you hear that?” she finally asked.

  He shook his head. All he could think of now were the terms tight T-shirt and damp hair and the improbable concept that Natalie might have just told him she found him sexy.

  “One-third cup,” she repeated.

  He nodded.

  “And one cup of water.”

  He glanced up at her, his ears nearly ringing now, and watched her breath quicken, her chest rising and falling, moving her Dr Pepper T-shirt logo in a rapid pace.

  “And some butter,” she said shakily. She reached for the stick of butter she’d purchased, but suddenly stalled, staring at it against the countertop, both hands pressing instead into the granite.

  “I have to call my sister,” she said abruptly.

  And then she bolted for the hallway.

  “Paige,” Natalie whispered, gripping the phone. She stepped across the back slider onto Elliott’s patio. “Where are you right now? Is Lily with you?”

  “Yes. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I just want to—speak in code, okay? So Lily doesn’t know what we’re talking about? I just want to call and officially throw the bet. I’ll still honor your win. I just want to acknowledge it so maybe you won’t lord it over me.”

  “But you have only two more days!”

  “I know. But I’m throwing it anyway.”

  “Are you with Elliott?”

  “Code, Paige.”

  “Lily’s down by the water. She can’t hear. So are you with him now?”

  “He’s in the kitchen right now, and I’m outside, but I’m just making this decision. So I wanted to call and preemptively keep you from being obnoxious.”

  “I’m happy for you, Natalie! I accept your defeat. And I won’t even make you pay up.”

  Natalie’s jaw dropped a little. “Did someone hit you with a nice stick this morning? What’s with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re being so nice to me.”

  “I’m always nice to you!”

  “Not really.”

  “Do you really think I’m not nice to you all the time?” Paige asked.

  “I absolutely think you’re not nice to me all the time.”

  “Name me something I’ve said that was mean.”

  “In the last hour? Or over the last few months?”

  “Natalie!”

  “I’m just shocked at your response. I thought you’d be gloating all over the place that you won,” Natalie said.

  “The winning wasn’t important to me here. Only the end result.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you and Elliott Sherman,” Paige said. “And waiting three whole months before you so much as kissed the guy—in any kind of seriousness anyway—so you could start a relationship on a proper footing.”

  “What?”

  “Abstaining, Natalie. I’m talking about abstaining from sex and any kind of physical relationship and focusing on building a solid friendship first so you have some kind of chance.”

  Natalie plopped down in one of the chaise lounges. “My brain’s a little addled from all the pheromones in the kitchen, so I think you’re going to have to explain this to me.”

  Paige blew a long-suffering sigh into the phone. “The reason your relationships don’t work is that they’re all destined to crash and burn. They’re not even relationships—they’re just physical attractions. You see a guy you think is hot, he invariably thinks you’re hot, and you throw yourselves at each other. Then you combust and burn out in three weeks. You’ve done it over and over again. So the idea that you wanted to do a mancation—I liked that for you. I thought it’d be good for you. And I knew if I bet you, and then taunted you a bit, you wouldn’t give up. In the past, your follow-through hasn’t always been the best, you know.”

  “See? That’s what I mean.”

  “Just stating facts here.”

  Natalie rolled her eyes. But she had to admit that Paige was right.

  “So anyway,” Paige went on, “when I saw Elliott enter the picture, I thought this mancation could be great. Not because I didn’t want you to have a relationship, but because I did. I just wanted you to find the right guy. And I wanted you to develop a real relationship. And he looked like ‘it’ all over the place.”

  “I’m not starting a relationship with him, Paige. I’m just . . . maybe en
ding one. Maybe I’m saying good-bye. To someone who meant a lot to me this the last few months.”

  “Why wouldn’t you want to start a real relationship with him?”

  “I just . . . I don’t know.”

  “Don’t freeze up on me now, sis. Here’s where you get scared, and you duck like some turtle into a shell.”

  “I’m not scared. It’s just . . . He’s not even my type,” she sputtered. She knew she was hardly making any sense now. She’d told Elliott herself she was perfect for him.

  “Your type isn’t a decent, nice guy? Who treats women with respect? Who has a job and a future and is all-around kind and thoughtful?”

  Natalie sighed. Paige was right. Elliott was ideal. But she was still terrified. She put her hand over her pounding heart. “It’s just with Elliott, things have been different.”

  “Different how?”

  “We’re friends.”

  “See? I think you don’t even know what a real relationship looks like. Mom wasn’t exactly a good role model. But a real relationship—true love—I think it looks exactly like what you and Elliott have. It looks like a solid friendship. Enjoying being together. Trusting each other. Going through life hand in hand, side by side. Together. And each caring enough about the other to want to make life better every day. That’s loving someone. If you can throw in some attraction and great sex, you’ve got it made. And correct me if I’m wrong, but I can sense the attraction between you two as if it were laser beams shooting at me. You two aren’t exactly subtle.”

  “I never kissed him, Paige! After you said it was part of the rules—”

  “I know, I know. I believe you followed the rules, and I know you almost won the bet. Well, as of Sunday, that is. But you came close. You did great. I thought three months would build something solid, and that’s why I extended the whole thing.”

  It took Natalie a second to catch her breath. “You extended the bet on purpose?”

  “Of course. I doubled down because I could see something real between you two, and I thought if I could get you to postpone the physical relationship for once, and let the friendship grow first, you’d avoid the crash-and-burn and have something to build on. You needed a man who respected you, Natalie, and who you respected in return. And now you have him.”

  Natalie dropped her forehead into her hand. Paige concocted all of this? In looking back, she could sort of see where it had happened: Paige’s funny glances, her knowing smiles, her challenges that did seem a little pushy.

  And maybe Paige was right. Natalie had never had a friendship with a man like this before. And, truthfully, she’d never loved anyone like Elliott before. She’d thought she was just loving him as a friend, but maybe that’s what love was—the same kind of love you had for friends who you cared about deeply. She wanted to take care of him; she wanted to be with him; she wanted to make him happy whenever she was in his presence. And she couldn’t remember ever feeling that way about a man before. Before she’d always looked for what she could get out of a relationship; with Elliott, she was looking for what she could give.

  “I think he’s good for you,” Paige said quietly. “And he obviously cares about you immensely. I hope it worked. Your mancation is now null and void. You lost the bet. But I hope you win Elliott.”

  Natalie could hear the smile in Paige’s voice.

  “Paige?”

  “Yes, sis?”

  “This is the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me.”

  “I told you—I’m always nice to you!”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Now go get that guy.”

  Natalie clicked off the phone and all but ran back into the kitchen.

  Elliott had tried to pick up where Natalie had left off and was now staring at the carrots, brown sugar, water, and butter in the saucepan, wondering how high he should turn up the heat. When he heard the slider in the room behind him, he started to turn to ask. He would put these on low, then sit down with her and apologize.

  “Hey, Natalie, can we put these on simmer or—”

  Before he could finish the question, he felt hands on his shoulders, tugging him around, and then . . . lips. Beautiful, soft, sensuous lips, sliding across his, drawing him in, sending a slippery warmth through every extremity.

  Soft arms came up around his neck and pulled him in deeper. Before he could think, he had his hands at the sides of her breasts, sliding down her waist, running across the planes of curves he’d memorized underneath her T-shirts. His hands kept moving downward, tracing her shape, grasping her behind, wanting to pull her toward him, into him, wanting her even closer, but then . . .

  Some kind of faraway sense came into his head, and he remembered that this was all taboo just a few short minutes ago.

  “Natalie?” He grasped for air, for sense, for context. “Wait, what’s happening? What about your mancation?”

  “I threw the bet.” Her fingers were quickening across his chest, his shoulders, his back. “My mancation is over.” Her lips found his again.

  He couldn’t quite process what this meant. His brain had slowed to a stop, the blood now fueling other parts of him as her tongue teased his. He was focused only on her body, and how it felt, and where it met his, and bringing it even closer toward him. But the niggling thought kept coming through that she hadn’t wanted this just a minute ago. He forced himself to pull away.

  “What happened?” he finally managed to ask.

  Her eyes dragged open and finally met his. He forced himself to ignore that beautiful sight for one second—her rosy and swollen lips, her half-lidded eyes, her flushed cheeks—and concentrate on the language coming out of her mouth.

  “I called my sister. I called it off. I’m probably leaving next week, and . . .” Her heavy lids dropped again to his waistband, and her fingers followed.

  He sucked in his breath and grabbed her hand to try to make sense of this for a second. “Is this a pity offer?”

  “No. Definitely not. It’s—” she sputtered. Her hand waved in the air like a windmill. He watched the whirling for a second and moved out of its way.

  “Maybe it’s a good-bye. I just thought . . .” She tried again. “I thought it would bring us closer.”

  He watched her carefully. “Closer?”

  She nodded.

  “You want to get closer before we say good-bye?”

  She nodded again.

  He leaned back against the counter again.

  “I’m not sure I even know what to do with a woman like you, Natalie Grant.” He laughed as reality hit him. “I don’t want to be toyed with by someone like you.”

  Natalie snapped her jaw shut. “Toyed with? Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  He immediately realized it was the wrong thing to say.

  “No,” he finally said, looking into that beautiful face and realizing he might be blowing it. “I don’t mean that you’re teasing me. Sexually anyway. I mean that I really care about you, and I’m one of those guys who gets kind of attached, so if we have sex right now, I need to know you like me, and you want it, and this isn’t some weird thing about a bet anymore.”

  She looked up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “I’ll tell you this, Elliott. I’ve been staring at you all day, and hyperventilating a little every time you look at me, and remembering every practice and pretend kiss we ever had, and I called my sister in a panic just now to tell her I was throwing the bet because I really, really like you and I really, really want you to touch me. So, no, this isn’t about a bet anymore. Now kiss me. Please.”

  Natalie’s heart pounded as Elliott snapped off the burners, grabbed her hand, and began pulling her out of the kitchen.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Bedroom.”

  Her heart continued its erratic pace
as he quickened his step across the three oriental rugs and moved forward with a singular determination.

  “You’re okay with this, then?” she asked breathlessly.

  His jaw muscle danced. “I am.”

  “You changed your mind?”

  “I did.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “If you’re toying with me or you’re not, or if I can make you happy or I can’t, I might as well know I’ve done all I could and acted courageously.”

  “Courageously?”

  “Yes, courageously.”

  “It takes courage to sleep with me?”

  “It does.”

  “Why does it—”

  Before she could finish the sentence, Elliott turned and took both sides of her face in his hands and pulled her toward him, closing his mouth over hers in a long, silencing kiss. The warmth of his tongue, the warmth of his lips, the warmth of his hands in her hair, sent a hot slide of comfort and wickedness all the way down her center until her legs felt as if they were going to give out from under her. She nearly toppled in her high sandals, and she gripped his chest for balance. He slid his hand down her back to catch her, but kept his warm tongue moving, then brought his hands back into her hair just the way she’d shown him earlier. He ended the kiss with a long, soul-wrenching suck on her bottom lip that turned her limbs to jelly. He moved back, still cupping her face, waiting for her to open her eyes.

  When she finally did, she met his.

  “How was that?” Elliott asked huskily.

  “That was . . .” Wow. She caught her breath. “That was fabulous.”

  He nodded curtly. “Then let’s do more.”

  While her heart pounded in a crazy way, he grabbed her hand again and led her to the bedroom, kicking his shoes off, shuffling papers and journals off his bed and sending them all over the floor. She’d seen him look singularly focused before, but nothing like he did now—he was a man possessed. Once the bed was completely cleared of notes and formulas and pencils and papers, he turned abruptly toward her and . . . stilled.