Her response is to raise her body and then slam it down on my cock.
“Oh, fuck,” I mutter, “now I’m really going to come.”
Wetting her lips with a satisfied smirk on her face, she does it again.
My hips surge to follow her rhythm.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly. “The answer to your question is yes,” she moans. Goose bumps form along her arms and she cries out this time more frantically, “Yes, yes, yes!”
Halfway between a prayer and a curse, I shout out a string of words that make no sense and start to come. As I grip her hips tightly, she arches her spine and leans back. Fuck, that feels incredible. I find myself saying her name over and over as the pressure wells deep, deep, deeper than I can ever remember. When a tingling sensation strikes the tip of my cock from the way her pussy squeezes it, I jerk my hips up. It feels fucking unbelievable.
Makayla shifts, leaning forward and pressing her palms to my chest, which makes the spasming only amp up into contraction-like tremors, and then that tingling turns into a current of electricity and shoots from my cock through my entire body. The incredible feeling doesn’t fade quickly, though, it only builds, and as I let myself go, I cross that threshold of indescribable pleasure over and over until I’m spent.
Fingers clutching her hips so tightly I worry she might get bruises, I ease off and reach a hand to twine in her hair. Her eyes are still closed and I tug the strands to pull her mouth down to mine. “Come here.”
“I am,” she giggles. “You don’t have to pull my hair.”
“You like it a little rough, I can tell,” I say, rolling us over.
Gently, she pushes the hair that has fallen into my eyes aside. “I can honestly say before tonight I would have vehemently denied that, but the jury is out on that right now. My swollen lips and the bruises on my hips might just be deliciously sore later or hurt like hell—I’ll let you know.” Her tone is playful, light, relaxed. She’s easy like that. I honestly can’t remember the last time I had this much fun.
I’m still inside her and matching her tender touch, I kiss her softly in the aftermath of that hurricane-like sex we just had. That felt fucking amazing. This time when I think it, I have a weird thought that the feeling isn’t going to fade anytime soon.
For some reason, the idea of it grabs me and occupies my mind for a bit.
But not for long because it’s time to take care of business, so I pull back.
Giving me a lazy smile, she gazes at me. I think for the first time since meeting her, I can see in her eyes what she really feels. They’re more than unguarded, they’re unshuttered, wide open, and she looks incredibly vulnerable.
An uneasy feeling courses through me. I need to be careful and proceed with caution. Fun. We’re just looking to have fun. My life is so fucked up, I can’t allow someone else to be a part of it. The last thing I want to do is hurt Makayla. I need to figure out who I am and what I’m going to do before I dare cross that line.
Jumping out of bed, I grab some gym shorts out of a drawer. “Let me just use the bathroom and take care of this,” I point down with a smirk, “And then I’ll walk you home.”
No idea what her intentions were before my little announcement, she sits up and brings the sheet with her. “Yes, it’s getting late and I have a lot to do tomorrow. I should get back. You don’t have to walk me, though—it’s right next door.”
Feeling like the biggest dick for basically kicking her out of my bed, I glance at her before closing the bathroom door. “I want to.”
She smiles at me. “At least we’re close neighbors, so it’s not that far.”
“And at least we won’t be frenemies,” I joke.
“Yeah, I guess I can borrow that sugar now,” she laughs.
Half-heartedly laughing along with her, I close the door feeling like I just made a huge mistake.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I am such a dick.
When I come out, she’s gone and there’s a note on my nightstand near the unused condom packages. It reads, “I had fun, Cam. See you around.”
Yeah, see you around, Makayla.
13
What You See Isn’t Always What You Get
Makayla
Seven long days later and I still haven’t seen Cam.
Just because I spent the day after we slept together trying to figure out whether he drove the Jeep or rode the motorcycle—both were parked in the driveway of the house to my right—doesn’t mean I haven’t been busy.
My days have been very, very busy. Unpacking. Scouting out the area. Merchandising my wares in Derek’s surf shop. Talking to Andre’s supplier. Creating a website with Maggie’s help so I can sell my most popular designs to anyone searching gemstones online. And looking for a car.
Busy.
Busy.
Busy.
And yes, this counts as a plan, but I can’t help myself. Maggie knows this too, which is why she’s not judging.
I am who I am. Soon, maybe, I’ll be a little less uptight, but I’ll always be me.
Andre did ask me out, and first I was going to say yes, but I couldn’t. I knew I wasn’t into him in that way. When I said no, he was cool with everything. Obviously he was about as into me as I was into him. Which was nothing past considering a possible friendship, but more than likely only the business relationship we were building.
You know what they say, anyway—don’t mix business with pleasure. I think that’s good advice to follow.
Still, even without dates, like I said, I’ve been busy.
Busy.
Busy.
Busy.
So it’s not like I have been running out to my balcony to see if Cam’s Jeep, which I figured out to be his vehicle only when Maggie finally told me, is the one coming and going whenever I hear the sound of crunching gravel.
And it’s definitely not as if I care that he quickly brought our night to an end. I have a life to start living. A list to check off. I’m very busy.
Busy.
Busy.
Busy.
Too busy to care what made him turn from hot to cold faster than the speed of light. Mr. We Are Going to Need Multiple Packs of Condoms needed only one, and I know it wasn’t because he didn’t enjoy himself. No one could fake the noises of pleasure he was making.
Whatever.
So what if it was the best sex I ever had.
I’m single.
In a beach town.
With a lot of half-dressed men.
Hot sex will happen again.
Right?
“You’re not happy.” Maggie makes this observation over turkey sandwiches at The Cliff. It’s her lunch hour and she asked me to meet her here.
“Why would you say that?”
She points to my food. “You’re not eating.”
That would be because the food tastes disgusting.
But I don’t tell Maggie that.
I pat my stomach. “Just watching what I eat. I have to wear that bikini. You know, item number one on the list.”
She laughs. “You have to buy one first.”
Nibbling on the gluten-free bread that tastes like nothing, I set it down. From afar it looked really good. “For your information, I’m doing that after lunch. And then I’m going to look at cars.”
Maggie is working on the Main Beach today, which is a ten-minute walk at most from our house, so I have her car to run errands. While I’m out, I’m grabbing a hot fudge, filled with dairy, sundae. Again, I don’t tell Maggie that. Pinkberry is where she’d direct me. Dairy free, made from coconut milk, vegan yogurt. Looks good. Tastes terrible. “It’s to die for” are her words, not mine. Yet, they might not be that far from the truth. I might die if I have to eat another one. Sure, I believe in balance. Eat healthy. Exercise. And a small cheat here and there. That is not Maggie’s philosophy. In fact, everything in California is so extreme.
Gulping her wheatgrass shot in one swallow,
she sets the glass down. “Cam asked about you this morning.”
Outwardly, I shrug, but inside my belly flutters. “And?” I ask nonchalantly.
“And nothing. That was all. Just wanted to know how you were doing.” She wipes her mouth with her napkin.
“Oh, okay.”
She stares at me for a long while. “Are you sure you’re not upset about what happened with him?”
I poke my fork around my side dish of kale salad. Chips would have been so much better. “No, I’m not. I shouldn’t be, right?”
She shrugs. “Did he make any promises?”
Choking down a bite of the bitterness, I set my fork on the table. “No, he didn’t.”
Maggie puckers her lips. “Then you probably shouldn’t be upset.”
I sigh. “But he didn’t even ask me for my number.”
She laughs. “He lives right next door.”
“Yeah, but still, it would have been nice for him to have asked me for my phone number after I spread my legs for him, even if he never intended to use it.”
Maggie laughs again. “Oh, you shouldn’t get hung up on that—it happens to me all the time.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “That’s a lie. You’re the one who never calls guys back.”
“Well, you know me—it’s all about having fun.”
“Yeah, when I think about it, we did have a lot of fun.”
“And besides, there’s a bright side.”
“And that would be?”
“He helped you check number two off the list—have sex with a stranger.”
“That’s true, but to be honest, forgetting about that night is harder than I thought it would be.”
Maggie frowns and pushes her plate aside. “Do you want me to talk to him? Find out where his head is at?”
My stomach flips at the thought, and it hasn’t been doing well this past week. “No, Maggie, that will only make matters worse. We’re neighbors. I want us to be cordial, not awkward. Everything will be forgotten soon enough. One-night stands always are.”
Her sun-streaked, long blond hair blows in the wind from the open window beside us, and she ties it with the elastic around her wrist. “You’re certain?”
I nod and look out at the water down below. “Most positively.”
“Okay then,” she tells me, reaching under the table into her bag. “Two things. First, this is for you.” She plops a black bag with the name Adam & Eve scrolled across it and an outline of half an apple around the last e.
My suspicion radar goes up immediately. “What is this?”
She dips her finger in the last of the tofu-something sauce on her plate and then sucks it off. “A gift.”
Eyeing her skeptically, I peek over the bag but can’t see anything beyond the red paper. Slowly, I poke around inside as if a giant anaconda might announce its presence at any second. When I’ve shifted enough tissue, I pull the item out slightly. The small box reads LELO Mia 2 Rechargeable Clitoral Vibrator. My jaw drops and I shove it back inside.
Maggie sits in her chair and crosses her very tanned, very long legs. “Number seven on the list,” she says with a grin. “It’s small and portable. And you can use the USB on your laptop to charge it.”
Shoving the bag in my purse near my feet, I sit up and slurp the last of my berry smoothie. “Why, thank you, Maggie, you shouldn’t have,” I say through gritted teeth.
Big, blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight with an innocence that would make any best friend want to claw them out. Okay, that wasn’t nice.
The waiter takes our money for the check and I know lunch is coming to an end.
Almost afraid to ask, I do so only to get it out of the way. “Do I want to know what the other thing is?”
Maggie checks the time on her phone and stands up. “We’re going to the Underground tomorrow night. It’s a dance club, so while you’re out shopping maybe you should pick something up to wear.”
Taking a deep breath, I blow it out. “Maggie, I don’t want to go out with Andre. I already told you that. He’s a nice guy; I’m just not into him.”
All five feet, ten inches of her looms over me in her red shorts and white tank top. “Makayla, I think I got that when you left him sitting at my table to go fuck Cam. Derek, you, and I will be meeting up with a bunch of people from the patrol.”
“The patrol?” I question, knowing that means the people she works with.
“We go all the time and you don’t have to worry, Cam never comes with us. Dance clubs aren’t his thing.”
“I guess karaoke is,” I laugh.
She takes a step back. “Yeah, about that: next time you two talk, you should ask him why he ended up there.”
I stand up and make sure the Adam & Eve bag is buried deep in my purse. “If you know, why don’t you tell me?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. Besides, I have to run. See you home later.”
And just like that, the California girl is gone.
And the New Yorker is left to spread her wings.
As I head toward the car, I eye the bag in my purse. Maybe I should say I’m left to get myself off.
Just my vibrator and me.
14
Pepperoni, Anyone?
Cam
Behind my polarized frames I watch every splash, every screech, every ripple. From high in my tower I spend my day deciding if that person over there has been under too long, if that one across the way is doing the back float or is really in trouble, or if the one way out there is actually struggling or just learning to swim.
The decisions I make are crucial to saving people’s lives, yet, every day that has passed this week, this job has been feeling more and more just like that—a job.
That yearning I felt for a career before everything happened is starting to come back a little more every day. And for the first time, I find my anger toward my brother lessening. Not saying that’s a good thing, though, because I’m not sure where that leaves us.
When I finally get home from a long day, I go straight to my room, hop in the shower, change, and walk out into the kitchen to grab some food.
Shocked before I even make it to the refrigerator, I almost barrel over in laughter when I see Brooklyn at the sink. His notebook is tossed on the counter and instead of writing like he usually is, he’s washing dishes, by hand. “Hey, man, dishwasher broken?”
Blowing a handful of suds out of his face, he turns toward me. “No, I’m doing this for my health. What do you think?”
Laughter continues to roll out of me. “I think you’re going to make someone a terrific wife.”
Setting the last of the dishes on the counter, he pulls the drain, and then flips me the bird. “I’m taking Sasha Gomez out tonight and if things go right, she’ll be coming back here. Just thought I’d tidy up.”
I lean against the counter. “Thanks for the warning.”
Sasha is an up-and-coming pop singer who got her start on MTV. Brooklyn and she have been friends for years. They’ve been fuck buddies for that long, too.
Brooklyn smiles. “Anytime, man. By the way, I saw Makayla over at the surf shop today when I stopped in to get some wax for my board. Her stuff is crazy cool. She gave me a couple of pieces to give to Sasha. Nice chick. You shouldn’t let her slip away.”
If his older brother were here, he’d sock Brooklyn right in the arm for saying anything like that. Keen Masters is heartless, though, and has no soft side whatsoever. Big balls, I always tell him. He prefers the term steel dick. Whatever.
Pushing up from the counter, I skip the food idea and open the door. “She was never mine to let slip away, bro. Have a great night.”
“Moody fucker,” Brooklyn calls after me.
I, in turn, throw him the finger.
Just as I plop myself down on the lounge chair, my phone rings. I take a quick glance at the screen.
It’s my mother.
She’s called three times this week, and I have yet to return her call. Last week in New York was
tough, and I just don’t want to talk about it. Still, I should pick up this time.
“Hello,” I answer.
The crackle of static and silence greets me. Then, “Camden?”
I stare out at the Pacific and try to absorb some of its calm. “Hey, Mom, sorry I haven’t called you yet. I worked a crap-ton of hours this week.”
“I know why you haven’t called me, and it has nothing to do with work. I just wanted to hear your voice. How are you doing?”
Running a hand through my hair, I want to pull it. “After that family fiasco last Thursday, I honestly don’t know.”
“Cam, honey, I think it’s time you let your anger go. It’s not good for you to carry all that resentment around.”
My eyes shut and I squeeze them closed tightly. “I try every day, Mom. I really do.”
She sighs. “Tell me what’s new there.”
“I’m still a lifeguard, if that’s what you are asking.”
The hiss of static makes me think we’ve lost connection, but then she’s back on the line. “You know I don’t care what you do as long as you’re happy.”
“That’s just it, I’m not happy. There’s hundreds of businesses here that I look at and think, I can fix them, make them better.”
“Then do it, Cam.”
“You know I can’t. That takes capital, and I don’t have any.”
“Yes, you do. Stop being stubborn. Your grandparents left you that money. The trust fund is yours to do with what you want. It has nothing to do with your father.”
“I’m not ready to go down that road.”
“Then you’re not ready. It’s okay.”
I look over toward the house next door. “I met a girl on the plane ride to California who turned out to be Maggie’s best friend. She moved here from New York.”
“Really? Small world. What’s she like?”
“She’s really cool. She worked for Kate von Frantzenberg in the city and moved out here to design her own jewelry.”
“She sounds fascinating.”
Fascinating. That’s a good word to describe her. Especially since I still feel amazing after being inside her. Okay, I need to can the sex thoughts when I’m talking to my mother. I try to blink them away and then quickly change the subject. “Yeah, anyway, other than that, nothing new.”
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