by Jewel E. Ann
God, it better happen again!
While I set a slice of pizza on each of our plates, he opens two bottles of beer. His bare leg brushes past mine under the table as he scoots his chair in. I give a quick glance down to make sure my dress conceals my hardened nipples. I’m a mess. Can’t we just squeeze in a quick inning first, where he makes it to second base and my body gets a reprieve from being on such high alert.
“What did you and Swarley do today?”
I take a pull of my beer, hoping it will calm my nerves. “Not much. After I wore his butt out with a long walk and Frisbee, we lounged by the pool most of the day.”
“Rough job,” he replies with a smirk.
“I know, right? Someday when I’m up to my ears in school work again, I will reminisce about my carefree housesitting days.”
“You’re quite driven. Is that an inherited trait?” He takes a bite of pizza, keeping his eyes fixed to mine.
“My mom was going to school to become an architect when she met my dad. They married six months later and I was supposedly a honeymoon baby. Then after I was born, she gave up on school … She gave up on her dream. My dad told her she should finish her schooling when I reached preschool age. But that got delayed because of my sister. One thing led to another and money was tight with just my dad’s income, so my mom continued to postpone her schooling. Then she was diagnosed with cancer and …” The words are too raw. I’m not ready to have Lautner see me cry.
“You’re worried you’ll get sidetracked from your dreams.” It’s not a question.
I nod and take another much needed swig of my beer.
“I understand. I’ve put a lot of blood and sweat into my schooling … my future, and I don’t want to get sidetracked either.” He holds up his beer bottle. “To not getting sidetracked.”
I smile and tap my bottle to his. “To not getting sidetracked.” It might be the alcohol or our mutual understanding, but I feel more relaxed.
“Did your mom—”
I nod and swallow hard, but the lump is still there so I drink more beer and wait for the numbness.
“So your dad’s a reef-safe-sunblock-wearing marine biologist. What about your mom?”
He picks at the label on his beer. “My mom is a special education teacher … she’s also a breast cancer survivor.”
Soft blue irises shine at me. He doesn’t say it, but I can hear the unspoken words. We share a bond. Both of our moms had cancer. But his mom is a survivor and mine is not.
“She’s the reason I’m a doctor. Originally, I was going to specialize in oncology, but when I did my oncology rotation all I could see was my mother hanging on for her life.” He takes a long pull of his beer. “But then I did a pediatric rotation and working with the kids just clicked. I knew it was my calling.”
I nod, wondering if I have a calling? Is being a museum curator my calling? It all sounds too “fate-like” to me, and I don’t believe in fate.
“Siblings?” I ask, keeping the focus on him.
“No. My mother had trouble conceiving, so I was, in their words, ‘a miracle.’ When I was two, she was diagnosed with stage three breast cancer. Now she’s the ‘miracle.’” He leans back and interlaces his hands behind his head. “Do you want to talk about this anymore?”
My eyes fall to his chest and arms, admiring the flex in his large, defined muscles.
“Nope. Hot tub or pool?” I speak the words without thought, or maybe my subconscious thoughts are all about getting Lautner to remove his shirt.
“Hot tub. We should let our food digest before we swim.”
“Good call.”
Standing, I brush a few crumbs off myself and walk to the hot tub, shrugging my dress off on the way. I take the tie from my wrist and pull my hair up into a messy bun. Pausing with my hands still above my head, I turn and Lautner is standing behind me. His bare chest greets me. I wet my lips and force my gaze to his, but his eyes are exploring every part of my body except my eyes.
“Beer?” He holds up a new bottle.
“Thanks.” I take it and turn. Easing myself down to sit on the edge, I dangle my feet in the steamy water for a moment before scooting all the way in. “God, this feels good.”
The hot tub accommodates at least eight. Much to my liking, Lautner takes a seat next to me but turns so we’re at a comfortable angle for conversation.
“Okay, you know I like surfing. What about you?”
Our feet and legs occasionally touch, and I find myself back to my original nervous state.
“Surfing, not so much.” I roll my eyes. “You’re older than I am so you must have more to share than surfing and medical school.”
He runs his toe under my foot and I jump, eliciting a chuckle from him.
“I’m not that much older. What are you … twenty-three? Twenty-four?”
Rubbing the top of my beer bottle over my lips, I smile. “Twenty-three. How old are you?”
“Older.”
I nudge him with a playful kick to his leg. “Duh! Let me see … four years of undergrad plus four years of med school…” my eyes roll while I do the mental math “…twenty-six?”
“Good guess … twenty-seven.”
“Mmm, so you recently had a birthday or you failed a grade.”
He pinches his bottom lip between his teeth with a slow nod. “Yeah … something like that.”
I tilt my head to the side, squinting one eye.
“Your turn. Tell me more.”
“What?” My voice shrieks. “You still haven’t—”
“Ladies first.” He smirks.
“Fine! About me, hmm … soccer and swimming, at least that’s what I did in high school. I played intramural volleyball, flag football, and soccer in college. I’m kind of a tomboy. Kudos to you yesterday for finding the one sport I suck at.” I roll my eyes and take another pull of my beer.
Laughter vibrates from his chest and his blue irises sparkle with delight. “My bad, we’ll have to rectify that unfortunate situation with an activity of your choosing next time.”
Next time? I like the sound of that.
He sets his beer down and then surprises me by taking mine and setting it behind us next to his. He scoots closer, resting his arm behind me on the edge of the hot tub. My heart surges against my chest. He’s not rushed. Every move he makes is patient, calculated, and agonizingly slow. His eyes focus on my lips and I swallow in breathless anticipation as he leans in toward me.
“Sydney, you look nothing like a tomboy.” His voice is a deep whisper.
I watch his left hand move to cup my jaw. Our faces are so close. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. My mouth relaxes and I let the tip of my tongue taste his thumb. I’m dying! He’s hovering so close, yet the mere inches that separate our lips feel like an ocean. Is he waiting for me? Is he having second thoughts? Is he—
Thank you, God! His mouth is on mine. It’s slow like last night, but with an undercurrent of intensity. My tongue brushes his top lip and I expect his to reciprocate, to deepen our kiss, but he pulls back. I’ve never felt like the aggressor. I’m usually the one putting on the brakes, but Lautner is baiting me, stringing me along. He’s giving me just enough to drive me crazy. By now, Avery would have her top off and be straddling him. Her tongue wouldn’t ask for permission with a shy brush. She would lunge forward and demand attention.
“Sydney, you’re so damn sexy.”
Show me!
“You’re not so bad either.” My voice is barely audible.
He scoots back a bit. “It’s getting hot in here.” To my disappointment he climbs out and takes a long pull of his beer.
Hiking my arms up behind me, I lift myself up to sit on the edge leaving my feet in the water. Lautner walks down the deck stairs and takes two long strides before diving into the pool. I’m befuddled. That wasn’t my first time making out in a hot tub, but it was definitely the shortest. I’m not sure it really even qualified as making out. Now he’s walked away and jumped in th
e pool. I have no idea what to think or what my next move should be. Do I get in the pool too? Do I wait here?
The lounge chairs on the east side are still catching some sun as it hasn’t moved below the trees yet. I get out, grab my beer, and lie back in one of the chairs with the warm setting sun against my face. Lautner is swimming laps. The back stroke looks good on him, showing off his taut abs. Swarley, as predicted, finds me and claims the chair next to mine.
“Are you getting in?” Lautner calls. His arms are folded along the edge of the pool with his chin resting on them.
“Are you thinking a race?” I ask, squinting at him while trying to shield my eyes from the sun with my hand.
“I was thinking a dip in the pool, but if you’re feeling a little competitive … we could race. I won’t even use my legs, just my arms.”
I jump up and stomp over to the edge of the pool with my arms crossed in defense. “I’ll have you know I was a state swim champion three years in a row. You’re not only going to need your legs. You’re going to need divine intervention to beat me.”
“You’re on.” He grabs my leg and yanks me in the pool.
I surface and wrinkle my face into an evil grimace. “That’s going to cost you, buddy.” I swim to the edge where he’s already waiting with a cocky smile.
“Name your stroke.”
His eyes widen. “The breast stroke of course, but we’ll save that for later.”
I adjust my top. “Whatever, so far you’re all talk and little action. Crawl stroke, down and back five times, go!”
His mouth is agape. My brazen accusations have rendered him speechless as I tuck my chin and push off the wall. He’s on my tail in no time. I keep a half-body length distance between us, but I’m just warming up. On the last flip turn he starts to gain on me. I kick into high gear. Images of him laughing at me yesterday fuel me to the finish. He comes in a distant second. I’m breathless and so is he as we rest our arms on the edge.
“Jeez, Sydney! I underestimated you.”
My you-bet-your-ass-you-did grin says it all. I’m very competitive. That’s why I took such punishment in the water yesterday. I’d rather look pathetic but determined than to bow out gracefully.
“Because I’m a girl?” The defensive tomboy in me emerges.
Lautner chuckles. “No, because you looked … awkward in the water yesterday.”
I swipe my hand along the surface, splashing him in the face. “Shut up!”
Lunging at me, he grabs my waist and pulls me into him pinning me against the side of the pool. I gasp. His bare skin is flush with mine, but not like yesterday. That was embarrassing and awkward. This is heated and sensual.
“So all talk and little action.”
I nod once, looking into his blue irises as my tongue traces my bottom lip.
“You want less talk and … more action?” he whispers a breath away from my lips.
“Yes,” I exhale.
His mouth descends on mine, but it’s not slow. It’s urgent and demanding. He’s not asking, he’s taking. I release a soft moan as his tongue plunges into my mouth exploring with erotic strokes against mine. My arms wrap around his neck while he slides his hands from my waist to the back of my legs, lifting and guiding them around his body as I drift closer to him. I suck in a deep breath when his mouth breaks from mine. My fingers dig into his shoulders and his lips brush along my jaw to my ear. Another moan escapes while his tongue grazes below my ear and his right hand slips under the back of my bikini bottoms. His thumb hooks on the outside as his fingers squeeze my bare skin, pulling me closer yet.
“Oh God.” I feel his lips against my neck pull up into a smile. He grazes his teeth along my skin then gives me a quick nip, making me jump and giggle because it tickles. Our eyes meet.
“Is this what you had in mind?” he asks, slipping his hand out of the back of my bikini bottoms. “Or did you have something else in mind?” With his eyes fixed to my lips, his hands move up my back to the hook of my top.
I pause in thought, but I’m not Avery. Releasing my legs from his waist I smile. “You’ve more than exceeded my expectations. We should get out.”
He grins and releases his hands from my straps.
I climb up the ladder and grab two towels from the pool house. When I turn around, Lautner is standing in the same spot he was two days earlier. Only this time he’s not fully exposed. I hand him a towel. He dries his face and hair then pulls the towel to his chest.
“Stop picturing me naked.” He’s not even looking at me, but his lips are twisted into a cocky grin.
I stand idle with my towel hugged to my front. My eyes snap to his that are now focused on me. “I—I’m not picturing you naked.” Wrapping my towel around my chest, I brush past him.
“It’s okay if you are. I sure as hell am picturing you without your top on.”
I ignore his comment and continue toward the deck. “Beer, we need more beer.”
*
After we both finish our third and last beer and our suits are dry, we decide to go downstairs. There’s a Ping-Pong table, wet bar, and brown sectional in front of a large LED TV. I have my dress back on over my bikini and Lautner has his Stanford shirt back on, much to my disappointment.
“Is Ping-Pong in your repertoire of mastered skills, Sydney?” He picks up a paddle and taps it against his hand.
I grab the other paddle and ball. “Why? Is losing more than once tonight going to damage your ego?”
“God, you’re almost as cocky as me.” He grins. “How about a little wager?”
I flip my hip out to the side and tap my opposing foot on the ground while I dribble the ball on my paddle. “I’m listening.”
“If I win, I stay the night.” The megawatt smile appears.
“Lautner, I told you before. I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Who said anything about sleeping?” His voice is deep and sexy.
I jerk the paddle and the ball bounces off the ceiling. My hand, hell, my whole body is shaking. I clear my throat. “And if I win?”
He shrugs. “Name your prize.”
Pinching my bottom lip with my fingers, I tug at it. My eyes jump to his and my lips curl up into their own beaming smile.
“If I win, you pick up Swarley’s shit in the yard … tonight, with a flashlight.”
Lautner chuckles and shakes his head. “Interesting choice but whatever, deal. You can have first serve.”
“Best of five or seven?” I ask.
“Five if I take the lead. Seven if you take the lead.”
“Seven it is,” I confirm with a wink.
I easily take the first three games. Lautner takes the next three but in close matches. Then something happens on the seventh game. Lautner wins ten points … In. A. Row.
“Oh my gosh! You played me,” I yell, heaving my paddle at him. He deflects it to the ground.
“What? No, I just got lucky, or maybe you were getting tired.” He feigns innocence as he struts toward me.
I shove him away. “Bullshit! I wasn’t tired.”
“Okay, I may have played you a little.” He scratches his chin and scrunches his nose.
I fold my arms over my chest, sulk over to the sectional, and plop down. Flipping on the TV, Tom Cruise is scaling the side of a tall building in Mission Impossible.
Lautner kneels down in front of me. I keep my eyes focused on Tom.
“I’m sorry. Do you want me to pick up shit and go home?”
“Yes,” I snap with squinted eyes and pouty lips.
He slides his hands along my bare legs and leans up so his face is in the crook of my neck. I tense from his hot breath on my skin and his hands squeezing my legs with gentle pressure. His thumbs trace circles on my inner thighs, and his hot, wet tongue sears my skin from my shoulder to my ear.
“Are you sure you want me to leave.”
“Maybe,” I whisper. Yet, my body says otherwise as I tilt my head to give him better access. My nails claw at the couch
as I fight to keep from touching him.
With his right hand, he slides the strap of my sundress off my shoulder, following its path with open-mouth kisses. My pulse throbs in my neck, my breasts, and between my legs. Every breath I take becomes increasingly shallow and ragged. An uncontrollable tremble vibrates through my nerves. He ghosts his lips lower to the swell of my breast. The heat of his breath lingers over my skin, driving me insane with need. I arch my back until his lips touch me. His left hand tightens around my leg, and his thumb caresses my inner thigh less than in inch from where I’m dying to be touched. He traces his tongue along the swell of my breast where my bikini top meets my flesh.
“Lautner.” I’m breathless and losing control. Taking his hand that’s still holding my dress strap, I move it to my breast. He pulls back and meets my heated gaze.
“Touch me,” I whisper.
His eyes stay fixed on mine while his thumb slips under my top. The pad of it brushes over my erect nipple. I expect him to put his mouth where his hand is, but he doesn’t. He’s watching me, my reaction to his touch. He cups my breast and lifts it out of my top, still holding my gaze. Blue irises glaze with lust as he kneads it between his palm and strong fingers, repeatedly circling the pad of his thumb over my nipple.
Fucking blue irises. They’re as seductive as his touch. My eyelids are heavy. He’s so damn intoxicating. I bring my other hand to the back of his head and pull him to my lips. My soft moan invites his tongue to meet mine.
There is a rhythmic vibration. I try to ignore it but I can’t. It takes us a few seconds to realize it’s not us and it’s not an earthquake. Lautner’s hand on my breast stills. Our kiss breaks and we both look to the side. Swarley is humping the cushion next to us. We turn back toward each other and start to kiss again, but I get an untimely case of the giggles. Lautner, like a true gentleman, pulls my top back up over my breast.
We’re both laughing now. He shakes his head and sits next to me on the couch. Maybe Swarley’s done or just quits because he has an audience, but he hops down and heads upstairs.