40-Love

by Olivia Dade

  The next morning, she went down on him as he fisted his hands in her soft hair and called her name like an invocation. A plea and prayer of gratitude both, wrenched from a heart fit to burst from everything she was doing, everything she was.

  After they’d both washed up and she took care of tampon business by herself in the bathroom, he produced the new vibrator with a courtly flourish that made her snicker. When he eased her down onto her back in bed, though, making certain her neck was supported by a pillow, she stopped laughing.

  He stretched out along her side and settled down to play.

  The right side of her clit, he discovered, was more sensitive than the left, and she liked little circles in that area, her hips rocking against the insistent buzz. Her hand clutched at his arm, his shoulder, the sheets, while her sex grew swollen and flushed. When she got close, a rosy stain spread across her face and chest as her knees drew up high.

  Her head tossed on the pillow, and he cupped her hot cheek. Kissed her softly.

  When he raised his head, she was panting. Squirming. “Lucas…”

  “Higher intensity?” he murmured.

  At her nod, he twisted the base of the vibrator, and the buzz grew louder. She moaned.

  Her dazed hazel eyes squeezed shut, but he coaxed them open again, willing her to see him. See them. Associate the sight of him with her pleasure.

  The orgasm shuddered through her as she gasped and made rough little sounds. He noted every twitch, every whimper, with satisfaction sharp enough to cut, even as he tenderly stroked the soft, damp skin of her belly with his free hand and gentled the pressure of the vibrator.

  You’ll miss this. You’ll miss me. Before you leave, I’ll make sure of that.

  In that moment, he felt almost savage in his desperation. But he kissed her sweetly, lightly, as she lay trembling beside him, and he held her carefully as they both recovered.

  When her breath steadied again, she eased away from him, sat up, and heaved a dramatic sigh. “Now I’m all sweaty and need another shower. Your insistence on giving me really intense orgasms is probably causing water shortages all along the Florida coastline.”

  Her hair was sticking up around her head, rumpled by the pillow and his hands. She was, in fact, a bit sweaty and red-faced, as if she’d just completed an epic tennis match.

  She was a mess. His mess, and he loved it.

  She patted his chest. “Lucas Karlsson: One-Man Environmental Catastrophe.”

  Offering a gracious bow from a prone position wasn’t easy, but he tried. “At your service, milady.”

  She grinned at him. Then, smile fading, she turned toward the lone window in his bedroom. Normally, it offered a better-than-average view of a few palms, some sand, and a small wedge of blue ocean. This morning, the blinds were still shut, so he had no clue why she kept blinking in that direction.

  “I guess…” After a hesitation, she looked down at him again. “I guess last night wasn’t typical for you.”

  Landmines. In her voice, he could almost hear her edging closer to them, reluctant but determined to know whether she could survive the blast. Whether they could survive.

  He sat up. “What do you mean?”

  Her lips compressed before she spoke again, each word careful. “You must have gone to a lot of social events when you played on the Tour. And I get the sense you visit the mainland a lot now, for parties or dinners or…whatever.”

  The wall behind his back was cool from the air conditioning, slightly damp from the humidity. He pressed himself tighter against it, forcing himself to stay silent and let her say whatever she needed to say.

  “During the school year—” Abruptly, she raised her knees toward her chest, resting her unsteady hands on them. “At work, I spend all day surrounded by people, kids and teachers and administrators and parents. When I leave school, I don’t…”

  Her gaze lowered to those clasped hands. “I don’t want to go to bars or parties, really. Last night was more typical of how I like to spend my free time, even when I don’t have my period. I eat. I watch movies or TV. I chat with Belle. I might get together with a friend for dinner, but it’s usually one-on-one, and most nights I don’t want to leave the house again once I’m there.”

  He understood now, and his shoulders slumped against that damp wall in relief.

  Ducking his head, he tried unsuccessfully to catch her eye. “You’re wondering if your life would bore me.”

  “Yeah.” It was an exhalation as much as a word.

  Now that his heart had restarted, her decision to broach such a fraught topic heartened him. No, downright delighted him. If she was worrying about how he’d fit into her daily life, she was picturing a possible future together. Considering how it would work.

  Even better: He had a good answer for those worries. An honest answer, too.

  With one scoot to the side, he had his hip pressed against hers. “Älskling, I didn’t want to leave professional tennis the way I did. But even at my most bitter, I loved the amount of unscheduled time I had after my retirement. I still do.”

  Suddenly, he had eye contact again, and her fingers were no longer bone-white from tension. Which meant he could cover them with his own.

  “The public saw my matches.” As she relaxed, he turned her hand over and held it. “They didn’t see me with my coach, reviewing endless tapes of my play and my opponents’ matches. They didn’t see me on the court, practicing with a hitting partner. They didn’t see me with doctors and physical therapists as I recovered from my injuries and surgeries. They didn’t see me with a trainer, doing strength and endurance and flexibility training, or see me signing autographs at an event, or see me traveling with my team. My coach, my hitting partner, my physio….”

  He trailed off, shaking his head. “So many commitments. So many people. Good people, but an endless stream of them. Always. I miss them sometimes, but I’m glad to have more quiet time and more time to myself now.”

  She was listening intently, that familiar trident between her brows. “Were you ever alone?”

  “Late at night. Then I was pretty much always by myself in an unfamiliar, cold hotel room, trying my best to get enough sleep.” Somehow, he’d almost forgotten that part.

  “So it was all or nothing.” The squeeze of her hand was gentle. Warm. “People you saw for work or no one at all.”

  He considered that. “A lot of the time, I guess.”

  Odd how many places loneliness could find him. In a crowded arena. Alone in a too-hard, silent bed. In the aftermath of casual sex, emotional isolation chasing hard on the heels of momentary physical satisfaction.

  The latter had been a recent discovery, and not a welcome one. He’d been trying his best to ignore the realization, to bury it in yet more work, yet more sex, but no longer. Not after Tess had showed him what the alternative felt like.

  Connection. He wanted more of it. More of her.

  Lifting their hands, he kissed her knuckles. “What I’m trying to say is, yes, I had lots of people around me and attended public events before, and I occasionally travel to the mainland and get together with coworkers now. They’re good people, and I enjoy their company. No matter what I end up doing with my life, I would want that life to include friends, and sometimes I’d want to see those friends. With or without my partner. But last night was—”

  Blisteringly hot. Heart-wrenching. Companionable.

  “—perfect.” He rested his cheek against the back of her hand. “That’s what I want, Tess. That’s who I am, on a daily basis. Your life wouldn’t bore me. You wouldn’t bore me.”

  Her eyes were wide. Cautious. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” One word. The only one necessary, stark and uncompromising and honest.

  Even Tess couldn’t misinterpret that answer, though she’d most likely try.

  She was staring at him, unblinking, her lips parted.

  Those lips barely moved as she spoke, her whisper almost inaudible. “How the hell can a tw
enty-six-year-old athlete be the perfect boyfriend for me? In what universe is that even possible?”

  Boyfriend? Perfect boyfriend?

  This was the greatest morning ever, bar none.

  He straightened against the wall and beamed at her. “I’m your boyfriend?”

  “Shit.” Her eyes squeezed shut, her brow wrinkling as she cringed. “Yes. No. Well, kind of. I mean, at least for now. I leave in a week, and—”

  He was taking that as a yes in wary-Tess-speak. At least for now, as she’d said. And if that was the wrong interpretation, she’d no doubt tell him. Loudly, with one eyebrow raised to the heavens.

  Changing for now into something more long-term might prove challenging, but he still had a week to convince her. A lot could happen in seven days, as recent experience had taught him.

  He planted a smacking kiss on her scrunched-up nose. “I accept the change in my status. Gladly.” Another kiss on her furrowed brow. “Wow. Boyfriend status: achieved. And after only a week of effort!”

  Slowly, she began to uncurl from the human ball she’d made of herself.

  Letting go of her hand, he adjusted an imaginary microphone. “This is an unexpected honor, but I’d like to thank my entire team—”

  “Lucas,” she groaned. “Oh, my God.”

  But her lips were twitching, and she was peeking at him through her lashes.

  He raised an invisible trophy above his head with both hands. “And of course, I never anticipated reaching a perfect ranking, but I can only bow to the judgment of others and accept the designation as accurate. My gratitude to—”

  “Oh, my God,” she repeated, full-on laughing now, her feigned ire entirely unconvincing. “Lucas, if you don’t shut up—”

  This time, he kissed her mouth.

  “Make me,” he said.

  So she did.

  Twenty-One

  When Tess returned to her hotel room later that morning, she found Belle’s suitcases splayed open on both beds, already half-packed.

  “Belle…” Letting the door shut behind her, she tried to catch her friend’s eye, her stomach twisting in sudden nausea. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

  Had she abandoned Belle too many times, for too long? She’d been gone all night and most of the morning, true, but she’d spent the entire day with Belle beforehand, and she’d thought her friend understood the situation with Lucas. More than understood, approved. Of the sex, anyway, if not a potential long-distance relationship.

  “I’m fine.” Belle flashed her a bright, unconvincing smile, her blond ponytail swinging as she emptied drawers and moved piles of clothing to the nearest suitcase. “And I’m packing, as you can see.”

  “But…” Tess swallowed. “We don’t leave for another week.”

  Still no eye contact. “I changed my reservations early this morning.”

  Oh, God. She’d hurt her friend. Distanced herself in favor of work and Lucas, leaving Belle alone on a vacation they’d planned to spend tog—

  Wait.

  Belle had been happily spending all that free time with Brian, her designated island fling. What had changed?

  “What made you decide—”

  Belle shook her head. “I’m not discussing that right now.”

  Her friend’s tone didn’t welcome further commentary. But dammit, Tess had to say something.

  She leaned back against the door. “Our plane tickets are nonrefundable. And we signed up for a sunset cruise tomorrow and a snorkeling expedition on Thursday.”

  “I have enough savings to cover another ticket and the cost of a few missed activities.” Belle waved a hand. “Ask Lucas if he can take time off to go with you. If not, you might be able to cancel the reservations for a refund or go by yourself.”

  Her lips pressed into a tight, thin line, and she stared down at the suitcase. Then she started packing again. “I’m sorry for flaking out on our plans.”

  “I don’t mind doing things on my own. You know that.” Tess still didn’t understand, though, and anxiety had kicked her heart into a gallop. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this yesterday?”

  “I made the decision early this morning.” Her friend’s strained voice turned wry. “As you know, you were otherwise occupied until just now.”

  “Did someone—” Fuck, she didn’t want to ask, but she had to. She had to. “Did someone touch you? Assault you? Did Brian—”

  “No.” Belle shook her head vehemently. “God, no. No one laid a hand on me.”

  “Okay.” Her most pressing worry dismissed, Tess could finally take a deep breath again. “You saved for this trip for months, Belle. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Belle closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose, her nostrils flaring with—something. Impatience? Hurt? Anger?

  God, Tess was blathering about practical concerns and logistics, when what she really meant was: I love you. I’m worried about you, and I’m worried about whether I’ve fucked things up between us.

  Her ex-fiancé was right. She was great at practicalities, terrible at emotions.

  “—still pay half of the room costs. It’s not your fault I’m checking out early.” Belle was responding to Tess’s question, her hands trembling as she shoved the last few items into a nearly-full suitcase. “I won’t make you pay extra for the rest of your trip.”

  Belle obviously didn’t want to talk about the reasons for her early exit. Still, Tess had to try.

  In the past, Belle had always been able to see the unspoken affection behind Tess’s pragmatism. But the heartfelt words were important. The question was important. Because, above all, their friendship was important.

  “Are you—” Tess moved a step closer. “Are you angry at me?”

  At that, Belle finally looked up. “No. No, of course I’m not angry at you. This has nothing to do with you, really.”

  She sounded tired, her voice dull. She also sounded sincere, but how could Tess know for sure?

  “I talked with Lucas last night, and I told him I wanted to spend more time with you.” Tess twisted her fingers together. “So if that’s why you’re leaving—”

  “Babe.” With a sigh, Belle stopped bending over the suitcase and stood up straight. “I told you, this has nothing to do with you. The only thing I regret about going now is that we won’t have another week together. I’ll make it up to you soon, though. I promise.” She tried to smile. “To be fair, I’ll also miss the mojitos. The bartenders here really know how to muddle a damn mint leaf.”

  Had Brian Whoever hurt Belle, then? Because if he had, Tess was going to track his ass down and shove those gray swim trunks down his throat.

  Tess made eye contact with Belle, keeping her voice soft. “Honey, I love you, and I’m concerned about whether you’re okay. If you’re determined to leave now, I can try to get a ticket on the same flight. We can hang out in Boston for a few days before I have to get back to school.”

  Leaving Lucas early would gut her, but if Belle needed her near, Tess had to go. No question about it.

  “I know you love me, and you know I love you too.” Belle’s stubborn chin had dropped a fraction, the set of her shoulders softening. She hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I appreciate your concern, babe, and I’m so sorry to cut our time together short. I just need a few days alone to get my head straight.”

  That was a problem Tess could solve.

  “If you want, I can get another room and give you more space.” Surely the resort had at least one vacancy. And if it didn’t, Lucas might be willing to let her stay with him instead.

  Belle shook her head. “I want to go back to Boston, Tess, and I don’t have time to argue about this. I need to finish packing, get to the ferry, and catch my flight. Once I’m back at my apartment, I’ll call you. In the meantime, have fun with Sparky.”

  “Belle...” God, she hated to have her friend leave like this, but the ferry’s departure time was ticking ever closer. “We’ll talk about this tonight? You’l
l explain more?”

  She’d better. If not, Tess would haul her own ass to Boston and drag the story out of her friend by any means necessary.

  “Yes, yes. I promise.” Belle flapped a hand in the direction of the closet. “Now please let me pack, woman.”

  So Tess did, sitting on the bed and watching as Belle threw everything into her suitcases and carry-on bag with much less care than usual. Together, they rolled the luggage out into the hallway. Then Belle gave her a quick but tight hug as Tess blinked away tears.

  “Love you,” Tess whispered again. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you, at least to the ferry?”

  “I’m good.” Belle gave her another near-painful squeeze. “Love you too, babe.”

  Then the door was closing behind Tess’s best friend, leaving her alone in the rumpled, half-empty hotel room. Other than the air conditioner’s steady roar, there was no sound. Other than the flick of her hair, stray strands sent aloft by the blast of chilled air, there was no movement. Other than her thoughts, there was no company.

  Before this trip, she and Belle hadn’t seen each other for months. Not since last New Year’s Eve, if she remembered correctly. And unless one of them visited the other over the winter holidays this year too, they might have to wait until next summer to meet again.

  Still, her ostensible best friend had discarded another week together. Without discussing it beforehand. Without even telling Tess why.

  Tess had fucked up somehow. If she hadn’t, Belle would have explained the situation before leaving, or Tess would have known it already. If she hadn’t, Belle would have stayed another week, instead of fleeing the island.

  For all of Belle’s denials, maybe she’d resented Tess’s decision to work over the vacation. Maybe, despite her initial support of a fling with Lucas, she hadn’t expected Tess to spend quite so much of her non-planning time with someone else. Maybe she’d been lonely, too lonely to handle staying in the same place any longer.

  Or maybe the two of them had been growing apart since the move to Boston, and Tess hadn’t noticed. Just as she hadn’t noticed when Jeremy stopped loving h—