Without Promises (Under the Pier)

by Delancey Stewart

  Something like envy moved through me as I congratulated my best friend. “That’s great, man. I’ll keep it quiet, I swear.”

  Mateo had a strange look on his face as we talked, looking back and forth between me and Rob with a little grin lifting the corners of his mouth. I didn’t think much of it until he cornered me in the kitchen later that night as I was getting some water.

  “If Amy lists that house, you tell me,” Mateo said.

  “Sure.” I wondered why there was so much intensity in his voice, his gaze. Mateo lived down near Ensenada with Rob’s older brother and the rest of their family, running the winery that had been theirs for generations. Mateo had been coming up more often since he and Rob had reconciled a few months back, and he was essentially just a larger, more talkative version of his brother—same intense gaze, same dominating presence. “Thinking of moving up here?”

  Mateo grinned and shook his head. “Nah. Just be sure to tell me, okay?” He dropped a card on the counter with Bodega Buena Vida on it and his name and phone number. “And don’t tell Rob anything.”

  I agreed, and went back to the coffee table, picking up the cards I’d dropped and wondering why Mateo had taken a sudden interest in real estate.

  …

  I called Amy the next morning, something like a plan forming in my head. But first, I had to find out where we stood. The way she’d sent me off Friday night had me worried things might already be over. I’d texted her a few times the following day, but her responses had been short and to the point.

  “Hey,” she said, picking up the phone. She sounded tired and sad.

  “Hey,” I said. “How are you?”

  “Better,” she said. “I owe you an apology.”

  I stared at the window at the Pacific reaching for the shore, the surfers bobbing like buoys out past the break. “No you don’t. You don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing all right. That we’re all right.”

  She paused, and I could hear her breathing. “Yeah,” she said finally, a lightness in her voice that sounded false.

  “Good,” I said, plowing ahead. “Because I have a plan. Can I take you somewhere today? Overnight?”

  “Overnight?”

  “A little trip—to get away from all the distractions here.”

  “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Technically, yes. But I talked Dad into letting me ease into my full-time schedule. I told him I had some loose ends to wrap up.”

  “Is that what we’re calling this now?” Amy’s voice held a smile, and the bands of tension wrapping my shoulders relaxed slightly to hear her less serious again.

  “What do you say?” I asked.

  “I’m all yours.” The breathy way she said it made it sound like a promise.

  If only that were true.

  “I’ll pick you up at noon?”

  “Sounds good. What should I pack?” she asked.

  “I’m not telling you where we’re going. Bring something to wear for dinner. Plan for warm weather.”

  “That’s all I get?”

  “See you at noon,” I said, hanging up.

  I picked her up in a long black limousine. When Amy spotted it idling at the curb outside her house, her eyes widened.

  “Going in style,” I said, angling my head toward the limo.

  “I guess so.” Amy’s voice was almost reverent.

  Amy hadn’t been in a limo before, and she spent the first quarter of the drive quizzing the driver about all the things he’d had happen in the back while he was driving around, and the next quarter was spent playing with the radio and the lights, investigating the bar offerings, and standing up and riding with her head out the sunroof. Her dark mood from Friday was a distant memory, and I enjoyed watching her explore the car, scooting from seat to seat and pushing buttons like a kid.

  “This is amazing.” Amy laughed, sitting back down next to me, her hair wind whipped and her cheeks red. “You know, any time I see one of these cruising around downtown with girls sticking out the top, I think ‘okay, losers, calm down.’ But I totally get it now. You can’t ride in a limo and not stand up in the sunroof.” She leaned against me, grinning and happy.

  “I don’t think my dad got the memo about the sunroof thing.”

  “Does he ride around in limos a lot?”

  “For openings and stuff, yeah. But I’ve never seen him or my mom pop out of the sunroof.”

  “Party fail,” Amy said. She leaned back into the seat, and I took the opportunity to open the champagne that had been chilling and poured us each a glass. “What are we toasting?” she asked, holding her glass aloft and watching the bubbles shimmy to the surface.

  “How about us?” I suggested.

  Amy’s eyebrows rose for a brief second, and then she nodded. “Us.” She sipped from the glass.

  I couldn’t help lifting a hand to smooth down the hair that had been tangled around her head by the wind.

  She smiled and reached a hand up to tame it, shrugging. “The price you pay for a limo ride, I guess.” We touched glasses and sipped our champagne. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Can I guess?”

  “You can try.”

  “Vegas.” She sat up stick straight as if the idea had smacked her on the back at the same time as she let it loose.

  That would have been a good idea. “Nope, not Vegas.”

  She looked around outside the tinted windows, squinting into the desert landscape as it flew by. “Death Valley?” she suggested, looking less excited.

  “Not Death Valley,” I assured her. “You can’t take a date to Death Valley.”

  “Amen.” Amy settled back into the seat and sighed, and then she looked at me with glowing, earnest eyes. “You know what? I don’t even care where we’re going. I’m happy to have a little time to just be with you, away from all the other stuff…”

  “My family,” I suggested.

  She looked guilty but agreed. “And all the other stress, too.”

  I finished my glass and set it aside. “What other stress?”

  Amy lifted a shoulder and let it drop again, as if to throw off my concern, but a line appeared between her eyebrows, and I could see there was clearly something else on her mind. “Everything okay with Dani?” I tried.

  “Mostly,” she said. “Just thinking about the house. But you know what?” Amy finished her champagne in one long gulp. “I don’t want to think about that. I want to enjoy the rest of my limo ride and whatever else you have planned. Let’s just forget the world today and concentrate on this, okay?” She put her glass down and nestled into my side.

  My body responded to Amy’s closeness automatically, warmth radiating through me where our bodies met and every nerve ending rising to full alert. When Amy’s hand began tracing over my chest, I shifted my body toward her, leaning down to capture her mouth with mine. She tilted her chin up, opening her lips slightly. The kiss started innocently, but then she sucked my lower lip between her teeth and caught it there, the suction warm, and a tiny edge of pain turned my desire for her to steel. When she dropped a hand into my lap and felt the evidence of my excitement, she took her mouth from mine and turned to drop her finger on one of the limo buttons she’d been playing with earlier. The partition slid into place between us and the driver, and then Amy climbed onto my lap, her legs on either side of me as she bent down again to kiss me.

  Chapter Twenty

  Amy

  I think I’m in denial.

  The last thing I could afford at the moment was to throw everything aside and go on some crazy romantic overnight with Trent to God-knew-where. I had mountains of preparations for school, I’d told Dani I’d decided to sell the house for school, and now she thought I was in cahoots with the devil, and the start date for school was creeping ever closer. I should be home, studying and figuring out how to pay for the privilege. Instead, I was sitting a
stride a hot blond ex-firefighter in the back of a limo, pretending to be engaged and having agreed to allow myself to be whisked away to some distant place.

  Trent’s arms were around my waist, his hands cupping the curve of my ass as I kissed him like I was searching for an answer only he possessed. Though things had become complicated, for a long time, the best thing about my relationship with Trent was that it was simple. He was a good man—strong, true, and reliable—and he made me feel safe and taken care of. It didn’t hurt that the deep velvet brown of his eyes made something in my stomach tighten and ache, or that his abs were more eight pack than six pack. Everything about Trent was solid, and for a girl who’d lacked solidity for the first ten years of her life, that was more than just a little compelling.

  I let my tongue slide over his, every muscle in me tightening as I rocked in to him, letting go of everything but the feeling of Trent, the scent of him, the sound of him growling deep in his chest as I nipped at his lip.

  Trent pulled away after a few minutes, gazing up at me with wide, dilated eyes, a flush on his cheeks. “You…God, I…”

  He’s lost the power of speech. That seems like a good thing. I lowered my head to his again, finding his ear with my teeth and tugging gently before planting little kisses down the side of his neck.

  “Amy,” he said, and it was half whisper, half moan. “You’re killing me. I’m not going to be able to stop.” He held me by my upper arms, halting the progress of my kisses down his neck.

  “So don’t stop,” I suggested.

  He stared at me with those lust-darkened eyes for a long beat, as if trying to decide if I was serious or just flirting, and then he shook his head, his lips pressed into a line of regret. “I’d love to keep going,” he said, locking his arms around my waist and holding me firm. “But it would be practically our first time, since we were interrupted that first time, and since then we’ve only…” He trailed off. “I don’t want our first time to be in the back of a limo.”

  “I asked the driver, remember? It wouldn’t be the first time for this car…”

  “Which makes me want it to be like this even less.”

  I knew he was right, but I was trying to embrace the wild freedom I felt. I wanted to eliminate the barriers that were in my control. I couldn’t do anything about Trudy or her twin beliefs that I was white trash and that I was soon to be her daughter-in-law. I couldn’t make Trent’s job easier or restore his dad’s faith in him. But I can fix this.

  “There’s time,” he said, staring up into my eyes. “I promise.”

  I bent my head and gave him a final long searching kiss, one that had him rocking up against me, and then he let out a long sigh and slid me off his lap. “Fucking killing me,” he muttered, adjusting himself.

  I smiled and forced my own blood to cool. He was right, there would be time. I glanced around outside the windows. We were coming out of a mountain pass, and the desert stretched out on the valley floor before us, a town crouching in the searing sun just below. Considering the environment, there was a surprising amount of green grass expanses and what looked like several golf courses. “Palm Springs?” I asked.

  “Bingo,” Trent said.

  “I’ve never been out here.” I watched the pastel-colored buildings drift by on either side of the car.

  “Then it’ll be a night for first times.” His voice was a hot, gravelly promise that shot a pang of longing through me.

  The limo pulled up outside a Spanish-style two-story stucco house that could really only be described as a villa, and the driver opened the back door—after knocking first on the tinted window—and helped me from the car.

  We took our things inside, and Trent had a quick conversation with the driver, who handed him a key fob before leaving. “Did he give you the keys to the limo?” I asked, imagining Trent driving the long car while I sat in the back.

  He grinned. “Not quite. I rented a car out here when I set this up.” He didn’t offer anything else, but took my hand and pulled me through the entryway and into the living room of our home for the night.

  The place was impressive—not in the same way that Trent’s parents’ house was—this house wasn’t gigantic or overdone. The couches were long and low and covered with comfy-looking pillows and throw blankets. There were understated knickknacks on the shelves, and the high-ceilinged rooms were painted in soothing light colors and seemed to flow into one another. Beyond the sliding glass doors, a pool sparkled in the sunlight, surrounded by loungers and chairs.

  We wandered through the house hand in hand, and when we reached the bottom of the sweeping tiled staircase, I gripped the wrought iron railing and shot Trent a wicked grin. I pulled him up the stairs behind me and straight into the gigantic master suite, which had windows open to the pool below and an enormous bed draped in lush-looking bedding and more pillows than made any logical sense.

  “So many pillows,” I said in an almost awed voice. We both stopped and stared at the bed. It was literally half covered with pillows of all shapes and sizes. Total overkill. “What are they all for, do you think?” I pulled him toward the bed and picked up a long, round one shaped like a cigar.

  “There’s really only one thing a pillow like that could be intended for.” He took it from me and then bopped me on the head with it.

  Seriously?

  “Hey.” I snapped a long rectangular one from the bed and hit him in the chest with it.

  “Not so fast.” He laughed and grabbed a round pillow so he had one in each hand. He proceeded to batter me with them, one after the other, forcing me to duck and run to the other side of the room. I ran around the end of the bed, grabbing pillows and throwing them back at him one by one. From opposite sides of the huge bed, we threw the smaller cushions at each other in a flurry until there were only a few left at the top end of the bed, and I had to crawl onto it to reach them. Just as I stretched to reach a diamond-shaped one that looked like it would pack a decent punch, Trent leaped onto the bed, flipped me over, and pinned me. “I win.” He grinned down at me.

  I reached up over my head and grabbed the diamond pillow, bringing it down on his head. “Ha.”

  “Hey.” Trent’s hands flew to his face, and he dropped his pillows.

  My heart sank—had I gone too far? The diamond pillow did have a little decorative jewel on it—had it gone in his eye? I sat up beneath him, his legs still on my thighs, and reached for him. “I’m so sorry—” I started to apologize.

  “Got you.” He grabbed his weapons again and proceeded to batter me with them. I dropped back to the bed and tried to wriggle out from under him, blocking my face. “Enough,” I cried. “You win.”

  “Yes!” He shot his fist into the air. Then, with almost no warning, he leaned over and crashed his mouth into mine, kissing and sucking and biting me until I couldn’t breathe. It didn’t matter, though. I didn’t need air anymore. My body was a fiery line, alive wherever he touched it and aching for him where he neglected me. All I needed was him, was Trent, was more.

  Something had changed in the course of the ride into the desert and the adrenaline-fueled pillow fight. It had all been elaborate foreplay, and I was that much more desperate now. I wanted to banish all the confusion and murk that had crept between us since I’d met his family, since we’d circled ourselves around a lie that tried to define what was between us. I wanted to find the truth instead, and I knew it lay somewhere in this, in the frenzy of tongue and lips and skin, in the heat of this moment.

  Trent rolled off me, and I climbed to sit astride him, my fingers pulling his shirt up as he arched his back so I could pull it off completely. His hands were under my blouse, hot brands of desire against my skin as they slid around my waist, up across my back, teasing beneath the band of my bra.

  I pulled off my shirt and unclasped my bra. For a second, I stopped moving and just stared at Trent beneath me. His mouth was open slightly, his breath coming in pants, and his skin flushed. The blond hair stood up around his head,
and that broad, muscled chest was beneath my hands, reminding me of his power, his strength. He looked like a mythical, benevolent god, my very own Thor trapped between my thighs. He’s perfect.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” His voice was a reverent breath as his fingers became more demanding on my waist, pulling my mouth back down to his. I kissed him again as his hands found my breasts and alternated between soft, gentle caresses and rougher pinches and tugs that had me wet and squirming on top of him.

  Bright sunlight streamed in around us, and I felt free and happy away from the complications that surrounded us in San Diego. I slid myself lower and unfastened Trent’s jeans at the same moment as I heard his shoes fall to the floor. I pulled the denim off him, reaching for the waistband of his boxer briefs, but he beat me to it. I couldn’t help but stare for a minute, the image of the wanton god was so perfect as he lay there with sunlight searing lines across his golden skin. I took off my own jeans and slid back up his body, wanting to feel the kiss of his skin against mine everywhere, on every cell of my body.

  Trent rolled us over, and we lay side by side for a moment, facing each other as he ran a hand down the side of my body, tracing the curve of my hip, the swell of my breast with his palm. “You are so fucking perfect.” His words sounded like a prayer—reverent and holy.

  The words filtered through me, wrapped around me, answered some question my body had been asking quietly. I threw a leg over his hip and moved closer until there was no space between us. “I want to feel you everywhere,” I said softly, my voice full of a hunger I didn’t recognize except for its truth. Satisfaction began to creep about the edges of the room, circling my need as I felt him just between my legs. I moved my hips, sliding myself against him until his tip was just at my slick entrance, unable to wait.

  “Condom?” Trent asked, his eyes hooded and his voice a ragged whisper.

  “I’m on the pill,” I told him. “Do I need to worry?” I knew he wasn’t exactly a one-woman man, but I didn’t think he’d been seeing anyone but me since we’d met. Maybe in a different moment I would have thought about it more, worried more—after all, that’s what I did. But I realized I wasn’t worried. I trust him.