by S. M. West
“Fine.” He chuckles. “But I do have a stupid temper, and I have no excuse for calling you names. I’m truly sorry. How can I make it up to you?”
I like this side of him; his sincerity restores my belief that he’s a decent person. He’s got a mean temper, but he can admit his faults. My family never apologizes for their cruel words, even when they know they upset me.
My silence must unnerve him because he laces his fingers with mine, urging me toward him. I resist, needing to keep my head about me. As much as his apology helps, the wound is still there. It’s still fresh, and I’m tired, vulnerable. It’d be too easy to let this go. That’s what I always do—let people off the hook for treating me like garbage.
“Please forgive me.” He clings to me, pulling me closer.
His remorse tugs at my heart. Damn, why can’t I be a cold-hearted bitch, make him work harder for his apology? Sadly, it’s not my style.
Our chests collide, and my breath hitches. His arms envelop me; his pleading expression weakens my efforts. I’m anchored to him, and his hand caresses my cheek as my body overrides my mind, willingly leaning into him.
“You hurt me.” I push hard against him, remembering how his words were blows to my heart, my ego.
I’ve caught him by surprise, and he stumbles, loosening his hold, but before I can distance myself, his fingers latch onto my hips. Rough, callused tips sink into my exposed flesh, sending an electrifying jolt up my spine. His grip is both firm and gentle.
“I could be halfway home by now, but I couldn’t leave. I felt shitty for how I treated you and what I said. If I’d really meant it or if I was a heartless asshole, I wouldn’t be here. Okay, I am an asshole for saying what I said, but I’m truly sorry.”
I’m now back in his arms, chest-to-chest, and I can’t think of one good reason why I shouldn’t be here.
“I should stay mad at you,” I murmur weakly, letting my stubbornness have its way, one more time.
His smile grows; he’s wearing me down, and he knows it. Being in his arms has eliminated any fight in me. Even with his short temper, I like him, I really do, and his remorse is evident in his features and voice.
“Give me another chance?” His tone is hopeful and confident.
“Drive me to a motel and let me sleep, then we’ll talk. I’m thinking you can start making it up to me with a ride to my next destination.”
My fingers comb through the short, soft hairs of his beard as I pinch his chin with my thumb and forefinger. His lips tempt me. I want to kiss him, but it’s not smart. I’m sleep-deprived, and making decisions based solely on my libido isn’t wise. Before I can bring his mouth to mine, his lips descend on me.
His tongue swipes across the seam of my lips, and I eagerly open for him, inviting his teeth to nibble on my lower lip. Pulling my lip into his mouth, he sucks and teases a moan out of me. Our kiss is long, languid, and loaded with endless possibilities.
Pulling back, he whispers, “Oh yeah? And where would that be?”
“I’ll let you know when I know.”
Smiling, his mouth covers mine again. Our lips tangle, tongues twisting as my stomach flip-flops and my heart races with anticipation. His kiss is solace and hope to my weary heart. I don’t know if this is it or if there’s a future for us, don’t know where we’ll go or how bumpy the road will be, but I welcome the ride.
“This place is shit.” Silas is grumpy and throws the car keys on the hotel desk, where they slide along the surface before falling to the floor.
Glancing around the room, it’s no different than what you’d find in any of the countless hotel chains across the country, but I guess that’s his point. All I care is that it’s clean.
It’s 9:00 in the morning, and we’ve been up all night. I feel worlds better with my stomach full but still exhausted. After breakfast, he drove in circles searching for a five-star hotel in this small town in the Mojave Desert. It didn’t matter that both his phone and GPS indicated his pursuit was in vain, he kept looking in the same way you seek a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Finally, my incessant yawning and eventual dozing prompted him to pick a hotel.
“The room is fine, and it’s clean. I just want out of these clothes and into bed.”
There’s only a queen size bed. There were no rooms available with two beds, and I wasn’t going to let Silas pay for two rooms when we’re grown-ups. We’re just sleeping.
He leisurely roams my body from head to toe, slowing on my thin cotton tee, then sliding to my denim shorts. He lingers on the band of my black panties peeking out from my undone shorts.
I roll my eyes and yawn. While I do like his admiration, I just want to sleep. Perching on the edge of the bed, I pull off one of my cowboy boots and moan in relief as my foot wiggles free from the leather.
He halts on the way to the bathroom, his gaze locking with mine and his eyes darken at my unintentionally naughty noise. He grins, untying his man bun, his tresses tumbling to his shoulders. Changing course, he heads to me.
Without asking permission, his rough, callused fingers wrap behind my knee, sending a shiver through me, while his other hand swiftly removes the offending boot.
“Better?” He roams my bare legs with a lazy, lopsided grin. His rapt attention does all kinds of fluttery things to my insides.
“Much,” I say, low and husky, surprising both of us.
He arches a brow; my cheeks heat, and we both laugh. When I’d set out from Ivy’s yesterday with a vague destination in mind, only knowing I was headed to the ocean, I had no clue what I was in for.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers, his lips heading for mine.
Messy locks outline his handsome face, and his neatly-trimmed beard accentuates his full lips. I want his kiss, but I don’t. This is happening too fast. I’ve been nothing but impulsive since meeting him, and hooking up with a rock star isn’t part of my plan.
Based on my track record, Silas could easily derail my plan to make something of myself. It would only prove my sisters right, that I am a silly scatterbrain who just goes wherever the road takes her.
Stuck in my own thoughts, I’m too late to stop his lips from covering mine. His kiss is strong, but only a tease. Short and sweet.
Before pulling away, his nose skims from my jaw to my ear where his teeth latch onto my lobe. A deep, breathy moan passes my lips at the tingles alighting my spine. My pleasure only encourages him to continue his nips at my tender flesh. Goosebumps erupt along my skin, all the while, his tongue teases with flicks behind my ear, and heat builds between my legs.
My belly twists at how right and how wrong this feels. How did the lost girl of yesterday, looking for a fresh start, wind up weak-kneed and locking lips with a rock star?
He draws me closer, our eyes lock, and our lips meet again as his beard abrades the flesh around my mouth. Each scrape and tickle echoes with a fluttering in my chest and stomach, and every sweep, suck or nip to my mouth further reduces me to blazing need. My hands find his waist at the same time he wedges his thigh between my legs, where I ache the most.
How it happens, I’m not sure, but we wind up on the bed, Silas on top of me, and we’re still kissing. Our bodies are fused, his lengthening erection rubbing into my stomach.
On instinct, I slide and wrap my legs around him, wriggling until we’re perfectly aligned. My body, with a mind of its own, grinds against him, any reservations forgotten.
He moans into my mouth, and I clutch his hair, urging him on. His touch is hot and greedy, skimming the sides of my breasts, stopping to palm one, feeling its weight, with his thumb flicking at my hardening peak.
I release a pleasurable moan, my insides on fire at his touch as my fingers glide down his hard planes, seeking his belt. I’ve never done this before, had sex this quickly. I’ve known him less than twenty-four hours, but my libido is driving this crazy train, and for the life of me, I can’t think of one reason to stop.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds. We could be at each other’s
throats in hours. Do we even want to be friends or is there a possibility for more? All I know is that I want to have wild sex with him.
While I’m riding my lust-induced high and buzzing from everything Silas, he draws up abruptly to straddle my hips. His hands fly into his hair as if touching me pains him as he squeezes his eyes shut.
He climbs off me, removing my hands from his belt, and I shiver at the loss of him, my heart plunging to my toes like a stone sinking to the bottom of a pond.
My flight instinct kicks in, and I scramble, awkward and jerky, to get away as heat rises to my face. Silas grips the back of my neck, stilling my getaway, and rests his forehead on mine.
His blue eyes find mine, dark and troubled. On a slow groan, his warm breath tickles my face, and my heart pounds with my desire to flee.
“Fuck, Pansy, we can’t…”
“You’re right. We can’t.” I push away, snorting in a weak attempt to make light of this.
My cheeks are on fire, but I refuse to look away from him. I goofed, and I won’t make things worse by shying away. This was a silly misunderstanding, no biggie.
“Pansy.” His voice is soft.
“It’s all good. I’m tired and just want to sleep.”
Grabbing my ratty suitcase, I hustle into the bathroom before he can say another word, and slam the door behind me.
With a jagged exhale, I lean against the door and close my eyes. It’s not a lie. I am exhausted. While most people are starting their day, I need sleep. I haven’t slept for well over twenty-four hours, and this delirium is most probably the cause of my smuttiness. I practically dry humped him. God, could I have been any more desperate?
So much for not going where the moment takes you. Once in the shower, the cool water washes away the dirt and grime of the past day, and I give myself a pep talk. Silas is hot, and while I’m not wild about his anger issues, he is a nice guy. But none of that matters. This is about me. I need to focus on getting settled and devising a plan.
Once in my PJs, I venture into the room to find only the bedside lamp on. Silas is out cold, on his back with his arms to the sides, hair fanned on the pillow, bare-chested, with his full lips slightly parted.
While this thing, our happenstance meeting, has been fun and something I need to dwell less on, I can’t deny that he sure is pretty to look at.
***
A shaft of sunlight cuts across my face. Squinting, I roll onto my side. The other side of the bed is empty.
“Good morning, or should I say good evening?” I hear the smile in his tone and I blink, my lips curving to match his smile.
Lazily turning onto my back, I raise my hand to shield the sunlight and gaze in the direction of his voice.
“Evening,” I croak, sure that my tangled hair, sleepy eyes, and lines from the pillow on my face are a vision of loveliness. Oh well, I’m not, nor have I ever tried to be a goddess. “What time is it?”
“A little after seven.”
Casually sitting in an oversized chair, one toned, jean-clad thigh is flexed, leg bent with his ankle resting on his other knee. With his hair in a bun, he rests his head in his palm, cocked to the side. A playful grin dances on his lips, his twinkling gaze fixed on me.
“Did you sleep well?” he asks.
“Yes. Did you?”
“Yeah, for about six hours.” He glances to the empty side of the bed.
We slept. Sure, sleep is the key word, but let’s not quibble over semantics. We were in the same bed. I wonder if I drooled or worse? I grimace at the possibility.
As if reading my mind, he teases, “You’re cute when you sleep. You make these adorable sighs and mmm noises.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, they’re hot, like you’re dreaming something naughty and fun.”
His eyebrows rise and fall with his devilish tone, and I plant my face in my palm. “Great, my most embarrassing moments seem to all be with you.”
Chuckling, he stands and stretches. His tight black t-shirt inches up to expose a sliver of his taut, smooth belly. ”Nah, definitely no reason to be embarrassed. Cute and hot.”
He extends his hand, and I nervously place mine in his, concerned I’ll combust on contact. I may be stronger mentally and physically thanks to sleep, but emotionally, I’m still a mess.
Not only am I attracted to him, which I’m epically failing to hide, but I’m also homeless, I have no family support, and no clue what I’m doing. It’s enough to make me want to cry or laugh hysterically. When he waited for me outside the police station, something changed between us. Silas became a friend.
Other than my parents and maybe my sister Poppy, I can’t think of anyone else who would have waited for me. I know Cody, my ex-boyfriend, wouldn’t have. He would have been ticked at the mess I got myself into, and my other sisters, Ivy and Daisy, wouldn’t have bothered.
“Time to get up, sleepyhead. I’m starving, and I’m sure you are too.” Effortlessly, he pulls me from the bed, and with my hand still in his, he examines my face. “We can order in or go find someplace to eat.”
I swallow hard, a ball of nerves lodging in my throat. I do not like this fangirl side of me and vow, then and there, to put a stop to it.
“This place has room service?” Doubtful.
Grinning, he shakes his head. “No room service, but there’s a restaurant downstairs, I can get something brought up.”
“Don’t go to any trouble…”
“It’s no trouble. You want to eat in?”
“Yes, please. I need to get dressed and could use another shower.”
“Sure, check out the menu.” He points to the desk. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll take care of it while you shower.”
I grab some clean clothes and quickly scan the menu, finally deciding on a burger before slipping into the bathroom.
With a heaving chest, I lock the door and shake my head. What’s wrong with me? I’m not usually this flustered by a guy, pretty face or not. They’re just people. Although I must admit Silas is different, and it has nothing to do with his rock star status. He’s complex, intense, playful, and hard to ignore.
We met under strange circumstances, and for all intents and purposes, we should have parted ways by now. Maybe that’s it? The fact that he’s stuck around amazes me. He has a life. He has his own problems and commitments, why is he helping me? Why is he here?
Maybe I’m helping him too? Or helping me allows him to delay what’s waiting for him back at home?
Once dressed in comfy leggings and a long-sleeve top, I wrap my wet hair in a bun and exit the bathroom. He’s put together a makeshift dining table with the desk and chairs.
He spies me standing in the doorway and with a few smooth strides, he’s directly in front of me. His hand grasps the nape of my neck, and he leans in to kiss me. His lips against mine are quick and light, so light I wonder if I imagined it. What is he doing to me?
I have to put a stop to this familiarity. This intimacy we have. I can’t deny that I like it, but it’s also too fast and unsettling. The exact opposite of what I need.
Before I can tell him how I feel, my stomach growls, breaking the moment, and he laughs. Stepping out of his hold, I slap my hand over my belly as if that will stop the animal-like sound.
“You look so good I could eat you,” he teases. “Let me feed you.”
We are famished, and our silence only confirms it. We’re focused on eating every morsel on our plates.
“What’s next?” I ask, breaking the silence as she pops the final fry in her mouth.
“Next?” She wipes her mouth with the paper napkin, her expression perplexed.
“Where to from here? I said I’d take you wherever you want to go.”
I smile at her cute, puzzled features and push the heavy, oversized chair away from the table. She does the same, resting her hand on her stomach while studying me.
“I’m headed to California. To the beach,” she confides.
“Why the beach?”<
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“I love the ocean. I’ve only been a handful of times, but I’ve dreamed about living by the beach. I’ve just never followed through…” Her voice trails off, glancing down to her feet. “Until now.”
Her expression is pensive and words measured. I want to hear more about her love of the beach. There seems to be something there.
“Tell me about it.”
“What?” She lifts her head to ponder me. “You want to hear about my love of the beach?”
I nod encouragingly. After all, this is why I stuck around, to make sure she got to her final destination safely. If the ocean is where she wants to go, I want to know what’s driving her.
“My aunt Rose and her family lived in Galveston, and while we never really had a vacation, for about five years straight, before Aunt Rose passed, we would drive and spend a few weeks with her, my uncle Bob and my cousin, Iris.
“They lived near the beach, and I would spend every waking second in the water. My daddy was an adventurer, and he and I would explore life under the water and along the shore. Did you know Galveston Bay is an estuary?”
She’s smiling, and her eyes are shining. I’m not really sure what she’s talking about, but her enthusiasm is vivid and contagious.
“What’s an estuary?”
“It’s a coastal body of water where the sea meets the mouth of a river, and the fresh and salt water mix. It’s connected to the Gulf of Mexico with a variety of marine life and marshes.” Her hands rapidly move as she brings them together and moves them around in circles.
“I didn’t know that.”
“It’s beautiful and fascinating.”
“Sounds like it. Well, as you know, California has a long and magnificent coast. How does Santa Monica sound? My place is steps from the beach.”
“I’m not staying with you, Silas. I can’t.” Her gaze meets mine.
“Why not?” As the words cross my lips, I cringe at how creepy that sounds. “That came out all wrong. What I mean is, since you don’t have a place to stay, you could crash at my place until you get settled. It’s big enough.”
I’ve already fucked this up by moving way too fast with her earlier today. I’ve got to slow the fuck down. With my lifestyle and having to be cautious because most people want things from you, I only know how to do hook-ups. Before we went to sleep, I started to make the moves on her, on autopilot, even when I knew it was wrong. I’m going to have to learn how to take direction from her. We may have met under weird circumstances, and I’m surprised that we’re still together, but I want to get to know her.