“Glad to see your boyfriend has matured,” I say to Dottie.
“He’s your brother.”
I point to my chest. “I don’t have a choice. You do.”
Her mouth pulls at the side and then she shrugs. “He has a really big cock.”
“Oh . . . come . . . on,” I groan, causing Dottie to laugh out loud. “Too far, Dottie.”
Jason doesn’t seem to mind as he leans over Dottie’s body and kisses her on the lips. “Thanks, Daddy.”
“Don’t call me that in public . . . or private.”
Jason laughs some more, apparently feeling the mimosas he had this morning.
In the midst of Jason’s giggles, Cory nudges my leg and says, “Heading down to the beach, want to come?”
“Yes,” I say out of sheer desperation. “Anything to get me away from these two.”
I stand from my lounge chair, take off my cover-up, and leave my belongings by my chair, including my sandals. Speaking to Dottie, I say, “I’m trusting you to not leave my stuff by itself. You owe me after that penis comment.”
She chuckles and winks. “Got you covered, girl.”
I follow Cory down the path toward the beach and breathe out a sigh of relief. “God, that was disturbing in so many ways. I almost pictured my brother’s penis.”
“Surprised you haven’t seen it given the popularity of the towel picture that floats around on the Internet.”
“Yeah, I avoid all pictures of Jason on the Internet at this point. He’s done a few too many shirtless, almost pants-less photo shoots. The boy has no shame.” I glance at Cory and ask, “Does Milly have to avoid the Internet where you’re concerned as well?”
“Are you telling me you haven’t searched me on Google Image yet?”
“I have better things to do with my time,” I say, fluffing my hair.
“Like what? Bust my balls?”
“Of course.”
He lightly chuckles and holds the gate to the beach open for me. I brush past him, taking in his unique scent on the way. It’s clean, fresh, but also has this alpha-male note to it that makes my body shiver with anticipation.
“So what are your plans for your last day on the island?” he asks.
“Hang out, relax, try to avoid Jason and Dottie as much as I can.”
“I can help out with that.” He walks over to the beach hut, retrieves two towels and water bottles, and brings them back to me in a smooth jog. At least I think it was smooth. Not sure if my mind slowed him down or if he was really that flawless, but I will tell you this. The way his pecs bounced up and down will be imprinted in my mind for a very long time.
“Let’s go over there,” he says, pointing to an empty space on the beach.
“Looks great. I’ve been wanting—”
“Natalie.”
Oh shit.
I stop dead in my tracks when I see Nicholas walk up to us in nothing but a pair of blue Speedos. His body is impeccable, not as great as Cory’s of course, but pretty amazing for someone who codes software all day. And uh . . . his Speedos seem to be quite full as well.
I feel Cory stand straighter next to me, and I can only imagine what’s going on in his head. Oh God. Does Cory think I slept with Nicholas? Is that why he was reluctant to let me lean in for a cuddle? Does he think I came from one man’s bed to his? Shit. Shit. How do I fix that?
I give him a curt wave and say, “Uh, hey Nicholas.” I glance around the beach. “Surprised to see you out here. Shouldn’t you be in the conference?”
“Was hoping to catch you.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Playing hooky.”
Oh God, this could not be more awkward.
“Oh, daredevil,” I answer, unsure what to say. Nicholas glances at Cory and then does a double take. “Oh sorry, uh, Nicholas, this is my friend, Cory Potter.”
“Holy shit, Cory Potter.” He chuckles and lends out his hand. “As I live and breathe. Dude, your 2017 stats still make me weep.”
Cory shakes his hand, plasters on a smile, and politely says, “Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”
“Rebels lucked out acquiring you. Can’t wait to see how you lead the team this year.” And this is exactly why I had a nice time with Nicholas last night. He’s a genuine guy. Very polite, very interested in the conversation. I’m actually surprised he’s single.
“Thank you. Yeah, hoping for a good year. Preseason starts for me when I get home.”
“I’m sure you’re hitting the gym and the cages.” He turns back to me and as if Cory isn’t here, he says, “I was hoping you’d come back out last night, but I understand the rain check. Are you busy tonight?”
For the first time in my adult life, I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my back. This entire conversation is incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. How do I possibly tell him, umm . . . hoping I’m not, but never know because the guy next to me is so hot and cold, I can’t tell what he’s thinking or what he’s about to do, so possibly, but not.
“I’ll, uh, give you guys a moment,” Cory says, heading to the spot he pointed out and from the droop in his shoulders, I feel like I just cheated on him, even though that’s not possible, since we’re not together. He’s only held me by the shoulders and given me one hug, and yet I want to fling myself at Cory and tell him, I choose him, every day I choose him.
Very dramatic, I know. But I swear, the emotions I’ve been feeling this entire vacation rival the emotional roller coaster of a classic soap opera.
When Cory is out of earshot, Nicholas says, “What do you say? I know of this great restaurant a few miles from the hotel with fantastic oysters.”
Oh God, I feel awful. Really terrible actually, because I hate making people feel bad, but at this moment, looking at these two men, there is no doubt in my mind who I want to spend my last night on the island with, and it’s not the man in the Speedos, despite how impressive he looks in it.
Putting on my big girl pants, I say, “That sounds really wonderful, Nicholas. Unfortunately, I told my friends I’d spend the night with them. I’m really sorry. I feel awful.”
His smile doesn’t falter as he nods his head and then leans forward. “Yeah, I didn’t think I had a chance on Cory Potter, but thought I’d ask.” He steps up and gives me a hug. It’s brief, but Cory catches it, and I see a flash of pain cross over his face before he looks away. Does that mean he’s interested in me? Or do I tell Nicholas that Cory’s my brother’s teammate? No. That will mean explaining who my brother is. Crap. I hate lying.
“Ah, Cory’s just a friend, Nicholas. We’re here with three siblings and friends.” The words come out strong, but I don’t sound very convincing.
“In that case, enjoy your night with your friends. It was great meeting you, Natalie. If you’re ever in California, you have my number.”
“Thank you. Have a safe trip home.” I give him a short wave and then quickly make my way to Cory, who’s using a short stick to dig a hole in the sand.
Both towels are laid out and I take the one next to him, bumping into his shoulder when I sit down.
He glances at me, but his smile is gone. Shit, did I mess this up again? He was so warm, now I’m unsure what he’s feeling. If only I could read the thoughts running through his head that make his face look so pensive.
“Thanks for the water,” I say, trying to break the silence.
“Yeah, of course.”
He clears his throat and looks back at Nicholas. If he thinks I slept with Nicholas last night, does he think I took Nicholas up on his invitation? I need to make things quite clear. “I . . . uh . . . turned him down.”
“Yeah?” Cory asks, still looking at the sand.
“Yeah, I want to spend my last night on the island with someone else.”
He twists his head ever so slightly so I catch half his face. “Who’s that?”
I bump his shoulder again. “I think you know.”
He gives me a short smirk and turns back to the sand. After a few brief pauses of silence, he
says, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I answer, trying not to get worked up over what he might ask me, but with this man, I never know.
“Last night, were you coming back to the room for the night, or did you have plans to meet Nicholas again?”
I should have known it wasn’t going to be an easy question.
Deciding to be truthful, I say, “I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do. I went back to the room to change. I was supposed to meet Nicholas at the beach for more drinks, but when I got back to the room . . . I didn’t want to leave.”
He turns his full attention to me again and asks, “Why?”
“Because.” I bite my bottom lip. His eyes fall to my mouth and then back up to meet my gaze. “I . . . I took one look at you and knew where I wanted to be.” There, I said it, in a roundabout way, but I put it out there.
But he doesn’t respond. He nods his head and then leans back on his hands, looking toward the ocean.
Oh-kay.
He’s not going to respond to that?
From his silence, I’m guessing not.
Don’t get frustrated. It won’t do you any good. He seems like a slow mover and that’s fine. I can move slow, at least that’s what I try to convince myself.
Chapter Fifteen
CORY
The door beeps and unlocks, and on a shaky hand, I push it open and hold the door for Natalie as she gently pushes past me, her arm grazing mine. It’s subtle, but when you tally up the different ways she’s brushed against me, touched me, or even briefly clung to my arm, it feels like the smallest of touches is going to make me explode.
Today was . . . fuck, it was awesome.
There was no plan. We were allowed to be lazy, do whatever we wanted, and because it was our last day on vacation, and everyone else coupled up and did their own thing after our brunch, I didn’t mind pulling Natalie to the beach. We didn’t see everyone else until dinner.
I spent my day watching her laugh and smile under the sun, enjoying her silent company as we lay in a cabana and got massages. It felt like we had known each other for more than just a few months, as if we’ve been lifelong friends simply spending a day together.
I had a lot of fucking fun and now that we’re calling it a night, way after the sun has gone down, way after our friends retreated, I’m fucking nervous again. Our entire day has been so easy, but it almost feels like the minute we step into these four confining walls, something is supposed to happen, as if we owe it to the room. As if we owe it to each other.
Despite the fucking phenomenal day, I still don’t think I can give her what she wants, and I don’t think she can give me what I want.
And that’s what it comes down to: we’re both compatible, but in different phases of our life. The timing couldn’t have been any worse.
Well, that’s not true: she could still be married. At least I don’t have the guilt of talking to another man’s wife this time. I just have to deal with the fact that the other man ruined my chance.
“Are we watching The Office? One more time?” she asks, twirling around to address me while walking backward.
She’s wearing the cutest fucking sundress that plays against her beautiful tan and clings to her breasts like a lifeline. I’ve been staring at them all night it feels, memorizing the shape and wondering how heavy they’d feel in my palms. She also kept her makeup simple with some mascara, showing me the real her. Which, fuck . . . she’s captured me, big time. I’m a sucker for her face, for her smile, for her laugh.
“Can’t imagine doing anything else on our last night,” I reply. That’s a lie. I could imagine a whole lot of things we could do tonight.
“Awesome. Let me get changed and brush my teeth.”
“Cool, yeah. I’ll grab my toothbrush and get ready out here.”
We spend the next few minutes getting ready for bed. I slip on a pair of athletic shorts and leave it at that—no boxer briefs, because what’s the point—and then I brush my teeth in the kitchenette sink. Once I’m done, I push down the covers of the sofa bed and turn on the TV while slipping under the sheets as I think back over our day.
We joked about shrimp cocktails looking like monster fingers in a bowl, we shared funny stories about our siblings—the amount of times Jason has lost his pants during practice is shocking—and we talked more about our dream vacations. Including the Amalfi Coast and my African safari, Natalie really wants to visit Brazil and immerse herself in the Latin American culture. The entire time she was talking about it, I kept thinking how much I want to make that happen for her. Take her to all these cities she talks about. Take her to a pub in Ireland so she can sing old Irish songs. Take her to France so she can take the stereotypical pose in front of the Eiffel Tower. Take her to Israel and get lost in the streets. I want to do it all, and yet, I feel like it’s such a fantasy, a dream that will never come true. Well, at least, not with me. Natalie will probably meet a man . . . someone like Nicholas . . . and he’ll sweep her off her feet and take her to all the places she’s dreamed about. And me? I’ll watch from the sidelines, because I’m still not sure I’ll find someone like her. She’s . . . unique. Exceptional. Fuck, I hate doing the right thing sometimes.
The door to the bathroom opens and my eyes look up to find Natalie fixing her hair into a bun, wearing that godforsaken nightgown again. With the lift of her arms, the hem of the gown rides just below her ass, showing me the long expanse of her legs and a peek at where her thigh meets her butt cheeks.
Hell, let the hardening of my dick begin.
Besides Natalie’s smile, her ass is my second favorite thing. Not that I check out Jason by any means, but he also has a butt that grabs attention. He likes to claim he has the best butt in baseball. Not sure about that, but I can tell you this: great butts run in the family, and Natalie’s is fucking perfect. Round, with plenty to grab on to. And what I have come to realize is her bathing suits aren’t actually supposed to show her butt. However, due to her voluptuous ass, it’s hard to cover up. Fine by me. I’ve enjoyed the view all week.
“Okay, ready?” she asks, skipping over to me, her uncontained breasts bouncing in her nightgown.
Christ, this woman.
“Yup,” I say on a choked gasp.
She slides under the covers and this time, she has no problem coming up to me, draping my arm over her shoulder, and snuggling in close. She lotioned while she was in the bathroom. I can smell the sweet scent. I can also smell the mint of her toothpaste and also something subtle, something I haven’t smelled this close before, maybe . . . a spritz of perfume? I can’t be sure, but whatever it is, it’s making me fucking dizzy.
“Are you loving it so far?” she asks when the show starts.
I settle in for a long night of blue balls, but at least she’s in my arms. “I am.”
“Think you’ll continue watching it when you get home?”
“I mean, I have to see if Jim and Pam end up together. The sexual tension is building between them. I can feel it.”
Just like it’s building between us.
She laughs and says, “Just wait and see.” She settles in close and rests one of her hands on my chest, her palm branding my skin, searing, igniting, claiming me as hers.
Her breath plays against my warmed pec and her legs slide against mine. I try to relax, not feel as stiff as I usually do, and then I casually draw my finger over her shoulder, loving how the gentle move makes her shift against me. It’s small contact, a whisper of a touch, but it’s intoxicating. I couldn’t make myself stop even if I was threatened. I don’t get much with this girl, so I’ll take everything I can get.
“Kevin is such an idiot,” she mumbles, her hand sliding down my chest a few inches. “Don’t you think?” She glances up at me while her hand slips to the top of my abs.
I swallow hard and nod. “Yeah, idiot,” I say almost incoherently.
“He totally makes the show though.” And then, she runs the tips of her fingers over the to
p ridges of my abs. My dick thinks it’s time to party. It grows harder with every pass of her fingers, every light graze that lights up my skin, brings awareness to the lower half of my torso.
Fuck, it feels good, especially when she moves lower.
And then lower.
And then when she reaches my waistband, I swear I sway. My breath catching in my chest, the only sound audible my rapid heartbeat. I don’t want a fucking fling with her, I want so much more, but if she touches my cock, if her hand slips under the waistband of my shorts, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back.
Her fingers graze my shorts. One pass.
Two.
Three.
I bite on my bottom lip to keep myself from groaning and just when I think she might slip under the fabric, she drags her fingers back up my abs.
Ahhh . . . fuck.
I squeeze my eyes shut as my dick aches, hard as a rock, begging to be released. I feel my grip on her tighten, the tension in my shoulders coiling, while yearning forms at the base of my cock.
Fuck, I need relief. So. Goddamn. Bad.
I don’t even know what’s happening on the TV. I don’t care. All focus is on the light drag of her nails over my skin, the hot breath against my chest, and the little gulp of her throat.
Her hand travels back down my stomach again, and this time, she goes lower, all the way to my waistband where she slips her fingers under. I swear it’s no more than half an inch. She moves her fingers back and forth, playing with the spot right above my cock, which is off to the side right now thanks to my shorts.
I suck in a harsh breath and say, “Natalie, what—”
My voice is cut off when her finger connects with my length.
My body surges with such unabashed need. It feels like my body is on autopilot. I flip the TV off and throw down the covers.
I can’t stop myself.
I know this is what she wants, a fling.
I know this is what she’s been looking for since she’s been here. And even though I know it’s going to be fucking painful for me in the morning, when I have to say goodbye to her, fuck if I can stop myself. I need this, this one taste, this chance to feel her for one goddamn moment.
The Trade Page 19