by Michelle Amy
“I can’t call the police, Veronica. They’re not on my side. I’ve walked a very fine line with the law. Besides, when I was done with them they weren’t even able to drive their car.” McCoy grabbed my glass of wine and poured more into it from the bottle. Then he took several eager mouthfuls. “I don’t take shit from anyone. You know that. There was no way they were getting me in that car. They wanted to take me away from you. It wasn’t fucking happening.”
“What did you do?” The words felt foreign in my mouth.
He looked at me evenly over the rim of the wineglass. “What do you think I did?”
I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to. I had seen the kind of damage he could do when he was angry. Jason’s broken nose and jaw were proof of that. “I don’t know,” I admitted, not breaking his stare.
The corner of his mouth curled up in a smile. “I reminded them who they were dealing with. If they had the nerve to try to take me down, they deserved what they got.”
“And what is that?”
“I didn’t kill them, Veronica.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” His question was valid. His stare was icey. This was the same McCoy that I had sat across the table from the first night we spoke. His eyes were just as hard and angry as they had been. He was, yet again, trying to scare me. I didn’t understand why.
“Don’t try to push me away because you’re scared of what I will think,” I said, not breaking eye contact. “I won’t let you.”
His expression softened. His eyebrows drew together and he looked away from me. He was ashamed. “I kicked the shit out of them,” he admitted finally. “And I left them there. A few broken bones. Maybe a concussion or two. Nothing major.”
“Nothing major?” I repeated, unable to disguise the incredulity in my tone.
He nodded. “Yeah. They had it coming.”
“Maybe,” I admitted, “but now what does this mean for you? Are you in trouble now?”
He shrugged. “I think the message I sent was pretty clear. If they want to come get me, that’s what I’ll give them. They just needed a reminder of who they were messing with.”
“What if they keep coming?”
“Unlikely.”
“Possibly,” I said, “but there’s no way for you to know for sure. We should get out of here. Take a vacation. I have a couple weeks of time off stacked at work. My boss won’t care if I cash in now. We could go somewhere warm, and tropical, and sit on a beach all day drinking margaritas and-”
“Veronica,” McCoy said, stepping up to me and cupping my chin in his hand. “You are worrying too much. This is why I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to upset you.”
“I understand that,” I said, pulling my chin out of his grip, “but I have good reason to worry. These guys… could they kill you?”
He laughed.
I rephrased my question. “Would they consider it?”
“It’s not likely, but-”
“But there is a chance that they would consider going after you.” He pursed his lips. His lack of an answer was answer enough for me. I took a deep breath. “Then we should go away. There’s no harm in that. We have the money. Why not?”
“Because, I don’t want to just run away because they barked at me-”
“Am I in danger?” I asked.
He fell still. He watched me with unblinking eyes and I saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. “When do you want to leave?” He asked.
Chapter Eleven
I didn’t waste any time in booking us a two-week trip to Mexico. I emerged in the doorway to the bedroom with the documents in my hand. I leaned on the doorframe and watched as McCoy rolled up some of his shirts and crammed them into his suitcase. He looked up at me and I wiggled the papers in my hand.
“Tonight you and I are on an airplane to Cancun. And then there’s nothing to worry about except figuring out how to book our couples massage and finding the best bartender at the swim up bar.”
His smile was the same devious one he used to give me. “Sounds like paradise. I get to stare at you in a bikini for fourteen days.”
I joined him in the bedroom and started packing my own bag. As I threw in shorts and dresses McCoy zipped his bag up. “So easy being a guy,” I muttered.
He laughed. “No one is making you pack all that.” He nodded towards my collection of shoes in my closet. “You just give yourself too many options.”
I shrugged. “I like options. Carly will pick us up around nine thirty. Our flight is at two in the morning. Best deal I could find, unfortunately.”
“Sounds good. We can sleep on the plane. Or join the mile high club,” he winked.
I laughed and shook my head. “That is most definitely not happening.”
“I had to try.”
“Of course you did.”
He picked up one of my white bras from the floor and dangled it at me. “Will you be needing this?”
I nodded and he tossed it at me. I crammed it into one of the front pouches of my suitcase and hurried into the bathroom to pack up the necessities: curling iron, hairspray, makeup, toothpaste, and so on. McCoy took his suitcase off the bed and lowered himself down on to it, watching me gather things from the bathroom.
“This is a good idea,” he said.
I stopped with my hand in one of my drawers. “It is.”
He gave me a soft smile that reassured me that all was well. He wasn’t upset with me. He didn’t think this was foolish. He understood where I was coming from.
“Are you almost done?” He asked, sitting at the end of the bed.
I nodded. “Yeah, just a few odds and ends left.”
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Nearly eight. Getting excited?”
“Yes and no,” I admitted, “I’m a bit stressed.”
He nodded and ran his hand up my ankle and over my calf. “Why?”
I sat down beside him and tucked my legs up under myself. “I’m an anxious traveller. I don’t like planes. I’ll be excited when we land in Mexico and the travelling is behind us.”
“It will be well worth it.”
I drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs. “Are you getting excited?”
His eyes were lingering on my bare legs. I was only wearing my silk sleeping set- it was a set that he loved. I wore it on purpose. He reached out with one hand and gently followed the line of my leg from my ankle to my thigh. “I am more than excited.”
His fingers crawled up the inside of my silk sleeping shorts and ran along the line where my thigh met my pelvis. He kissed my raised knee and never broke eye contact with me. “I can’t stop thinking about what you’re going to look like covered in sand with a tan. The image is… hard to shake.” He kissed my knee again and his fingers ran dangerously close to the heat between my legs.
“Maybe I have been having the same fantasies of you with a tan covered in sand,” I purred.
He began rubbing me with one finger in slow semicircles. I lowered myself down so that I was propped up on my elbows. He watched me intently, focused on any sign that would indicate how well he was doing. When I let my head fall back and a moan escaped my lips he inched closer so that he was lying beside me.
He pressed his mouth against my ear. “I can help you relax.” He pressed one finger into me. I gasped. His fingers knitted in my hair and he pulled my head back, arching my neck and spine. His lips tickled my throat and jaw and he nibbled my ear playfully while his finger moved inside me.
My eyes slipped closed and I could feel myself smiling. I had two weeks of nothing but this in Mexico ahead of me. I turned my face to him and kissed him. I pushed my tongue between his teeth and explored him while he slowly brought me closer and closer to the brink of an orgasm.
When I was seconds away from being nothing but a quivering mass of pleasure he pulled his finger out of me and set about kissing my entire body. I moaned in delight and frustration. He loved doing this to me.<
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His hands wandered over my body and as he explored he tugged my shorts down my legs and pulled my camisole over my head. He cupped my breasts in his hands and flicked his tongue over my nipples, sending me into a fit of breathless giggles. This he loved more than anything else.
He ripped his own shirt off over his head and tossed it on the ground. I watched the muscles in his arms as he undid the button on his jeans and shimmied them off. Soon he was entirely naked in front of me and there was a burning below my belly that gave me butterflies.
He grabbed me under my hips and pulled me to the edge of the bed before promptly turning me over and lifting me up on to my knees. He stood behind me with his manhood resting against my bottom. He drew me up against him so that my back was pressed against his chest and again he held my breasts. I rested the back of my head on his shoulder and he kissed my neck and shoulder, before bending at the knees and rising to press his member inside me.
As he thrusted his hips he held me tight against him. I could hear his breathing in my ear and feel the beat of his heart on my back. I lost control of myself quickly and succumbed to the pleasure of his touch and his rhythm.
He pushed me down on the bed and demanded that I arch my back. I did as I was told. With McCoy, there were no other options. I arched my spine so that my ass was in the air for him. His thrusts grew deeper and faster and my fingers clutched at my sheets desperately as he finally brought me to my orgasm.
When I could barely stand to carry on he finished and filled me with a soft warmth. We both fell to our backs on the bed and caught our breath while staring at the ceiling.
“Do you think you can sleep on the plane now?” He breathed, resting a hand on my hip.
I rolled to face him and rested my cheek on my hand. I gave him a coy smile. “Maybe. Maybe we’ll have to go for round two while we’re in the air.”
He laughed at the ceiling, rolled on top of me, and pinned me down by my wrists above my head. “I want you to be an exhausted puddle when I’m through with you.” I lifted myself up and kissed his lips, his jaw, his throat, his chest. Then I grinned up at him. “Do your worst, pretty boy.”
He roared with more laughter and tightened his grip on my wrists. “Buckle up, buttercup, you can sleep on the plane.”
Chapter Twelve
The flight was one of the most enjoyable flights I had ever been on. Normally I would spend my time staring at the back of the seat in front of me, while I gripped my armrests until my knuckles turned white, and counted to one hundred over and over. This time McCoy kept me distracted. He pointed out strange things passengers were doing and we placed bets one who would fall asleep first. He won with his choice of a middle aged man with a pink neck pillow and a sleeping mask that said ‘namaste’. The guy clearly loved his sleep.
Landing wasn’t my favorite part, but McCoy again managed to keep me somewhat at ease by lacing his fingers in mine and pressing the back of my hand to his lips. He reassured me with steady reminders of pina coladas when we arrived in our resort, and before I knew it, the plane had landed and we were well on our way to being beachside.
The resort was a sprawling spanish haven. There were four swimming pools and five bars. The white buildings were staggered over the two kilometer wide beach and it took us some time to find our room. I had booked us a room on the third floor that overlooked the ocean. We had french doors that opened up onto a small balcony. I let myself out and stood with my hands on the railing, breathing in the smell of salt and letting the humidity in the air make my skin dewy.
McCoy had never been to an all inclusive resort before. He was investigating every corner of the room, calling out each of his finds to me with childlike glee. “They have a liquor dispenser in here, Veronica. Seriously? That’s wicked.”
I looked over my shoulder at him. The sheer white curtains on the inside of the french doors were blowing into the room from the breeze that came up off the ocean below. He was running a hand along a countertop and reading the liquor labels on the dispenser. “There should be soda in the mini fridge, if you wanted to make yourself something,” I called to him.
He looked up at me. “Mini fridge?”
I laughed at his surprised expression. “Yes, check the cupboards under the television.”
“They wouldn’t keep a mini fridge in a dresser, Veronica, that makes no sense-” he stopped talking when he opened one of the doors to reveal a small stainless steel bar fridge. Then he peered up at me. “I don’t like it when you’re right.”
“Better get used to it,” I laughed, resting my back against the railing. The wind behind me blew my hair over my shoulders and goosebumps rose on my bare legs and arms. I hadn’t been by the ocean in a long time. I had missed it.
McCoy continued exploring the room. He opened drawers and flicked on light switches and was continually impressed by the little luxuries he found: like all the complimentary soaps in the bathroom. I tried not to show him that I found his genuine joy at such things quite endearing.
When he joined me on the balcony his eyes were bright and there was a permanent smile on his lips that I hoped wouldn’t leave for the entire two weeks. He rested both hands on my hips as he looked over my head at the ocean below. “I could get used to this,” he said.
I stared up at him. I admired his brown eyes that were so dark they nearly looked black. I admired his strong jaw and his throat, and followed the line of his shoulders down to his wrists and hands on my hips. The veins in his arms were visible and I ran my fingers over them, tracing them like a topography map. I watched his eyes scan the sea below.
“Me too,” I breathed.
He looked down at me and his smile grew. “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to come to a place like this. I always figured Mexico was something I would only ever see in movies or photographs.”
“Now you can capture it with your own photographs,” I said, turning between his arms to face the ocean again. He put his hands on the railing on either side of me, caging me in. I pressed my bottom against his crotch and wiggled it back and forth a bit.
His hands left the railings on either side of me and he lifted my hair off my back and let it fall over my shoulder. Then, gently, he began massaging my shoulders. “There are people down there,” he said.
I looked down at the white sandy beach between our hotel and the turquoise rolling waves. “There are,” I admitted, taking note of the many other hotel guests lounging in beach chairs or day beds.
He kissed my neck and shoulder. “Maybe later, when it’s dark, and no other eyes can see you. I’m no good at sharing.”
I spun back to him and rested my hands on his chest. “Then shall we get our swimsuits on and hit the water? We’ve been in Mexico for nearly three hours and I still don’t have a drink in my hand. We’re doing something wrong.”
He threw his head back and laughed, but stopped me when I made to slip by him. “You stay right where you are for one more minute,” he said. When I scowled at him for prolonging the long awaited moment of getting my first tropical drink, he kissed my cheek. “Please? One minute?”
I rolled my eyes playfully. “Alright.”
He left me on the balcony and went to his suitcase which was on the bed. He tore it open and rummaged inside, pulling out his black camera bag. Then he unzipped it, pulled out his camera, and powered it on.
He stood between the white billowing curtains and lifted the camera to his eye to watch me through the viewfinder. “Don’t move,” he said.
I didn’t. I stayed where I was, with one arm resting on the balcony and the other hanging at my side. I heard the camera click at least a dozen times. McCoy dropped to one knee and told me to turn around. I turned. Then he demanded that I put my swimsuit on.
As I stripped out of my airplane clothes he went through my luggage to pick the swimsuit he wanted me to wear. He pulled out a white one with turquoise beads and gold jewels hanging off the hips and between the breasts. He tossed it to me and I stepped into it.
He nodded approvingly and tilted his head back to the balcony. “Get back out there.”
He was taking more photos before I even reached the door. I smiled to myself as he captured every moment of my procedure to the railing. Then I looked over my shoulder and smiled past the camera at him. He went to one knee again and lowered the camera. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and blew him a kiss.
He rested his arm across his raised knee. “Hey,” he said, and the curtains billowed up again in the room.
“Yes?”
“You know how much I love you, right?”
My cheeks burned and I couldn’t stop my smile from spreading. I looked down at the railing. “I know. I love you too.”
He was still on his knee. “Seriously, Veronica. Before you… before you there was nothing. I can’t believe how much everything has changed. You saved me.”
I turned around to face him. He pushed himself to his feet and let the camera fall with his hand to his side. I went to him, my bare feet silent on the cool white marble floor. He remained still when I wrapped my arms around his waist and craned my neck to look up at him. “You saved me, too.”
One corner of his mouth turned upwards. “Beach?”
“Beach,” I agreed, going to his suitcase and grabbing his swim shorts. I tossed them to him before slipping into my sandals and wrapping myself in my coverup. I watched McCoy strip and admired all of him before he covered up with his shorts.
“I’ve never been in the ocean before,” he said as he tied his drawstrings.
“I’m glad I get to take your ocean virginity then.”
“Well let’s go, I don’t want to make you wait any longer.”
“Hold up,” I said, going back to my suitcase and withdrawing a tube of sunscreen. “Do my back first?”
He waggled his eyebrows at me and I giggled as I began applying the coconut smelling lotion to my arms and legs. He followed suit, scrunching his nose up at the slimy texture. Then I turned my back to him, drew my hair over my shoulder, and waited for him to lather me up. His hands massaged the lotion into my shoulders and worked out the kinks in my muscles from the cramped airplane. When he was done we switched, and I ran my hands over his shoulder blades and down his spine.