Some Sort of Happy

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Some Sort of Happy Page 10

by Melanie Harlow


  “You should blow it off. I think it’s making you feel worse.”

  “I know it is. But I have to go. I said I’d help with decorations.” I looked up at him with tearful eyes. “Would you come with me? Please? Just as friends,” I said quickly. “I won’t try anything.”

  He smiled but shook his head. “I really can’t, Skylar. It would serve no purpose and just dredge up painful memories. Nothing about high school was good for me.”

  Nodding sadly, I wiped my eyes and sniffed. “I understand.”

  “Need a tissue?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come on. Let’s go find some in the house, and then after I finish the chairs, we’ll go do something fun. How does that sound?”

  “Good.” I sniffed again, wondering what his idea of fun was. Algebra? Sudoku? “What’ll we do?”

  “I don’t know. Want to go buy a canoe?

  I couldn’t help smiling a little, it was so random. “A canoe?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been wanting one. Or maybe a rowboat. You can help me decide.”

  “All right.”

  “Then we’ll bring it back here and take it out on the water if it’s calm enough. How does that sound?”

  “Good.”

  “Can you paddle a canoe?”

  I nodded. “I’m good at it, actually.”

  He elbowed me as we walked toward the cabin. “And you said you’ve got nothing for your resume.”

  I laughed, my spirits lifting.

  • • •

  We compared prices of canoes and rowboats at the sporting goods store, but Sebastian seemed less worried about price than he was about buying the perfect boat. He ended up buying a beautiful wooden rowboat plus some oars and an anchor, and the total cost was so high it made me wonder where his money came from. He’d said he worked part-time for his dad, but was that enough to live on, build and furnish that cabin, and have money for luxuries like a boat? Once everything was loaded in the truck and we were on our way back to the cabin, I had to ask.

  “So this might be none of my business, and you can tell me to piss off, but without a full-time job, how do you live?” I asked, sucking on the honey stick he’d bought me at the counter. I never could resist those things.

  “I have some investment income.” He ran a hand over the scruff on his jaw before going on. “My mother’s family had money. Old money. My father had no interest in it, so after she died, he and her parents set aside an inheritance for each of her children. I used some for law school and some to rebuild the cabin, but the rest is invested. I don’t like to touch it, but I have used some of the interest to live on over the last year.”

  “Oh.” I wondered if his mother’s death was too painful to talk about. “Were you close to your mom?”

  He nodded before taking a deep breath. “I was only eight when she died. As painful as the last year of my life has been, it doesn’t come close to that loss. Nothing ever will.” His voice broke a little, and my heart did too.

  “It’s a good thing we’re driving because I really want to hug you right now and I can’t.”

  He gave me a threatening look. “You stay in that seatbelt.”

  I winked at him. “For now.”

  We drove in silence for a few minutes, and when we passed Chateau Rivard I couldn’t resist flipping Miranda Rivard the bird again, even though she couldn’t see it. Sebastian laughed.

  “Sorry,” I said, although I wasn’t really.

  “That’s OK. I did a lot worse after I got fired.”

  “The worst thing was that I actually liked that job. Doing tastings, giving tours of the chateau and vineyard, talking to people about the wines and the area. I had some ideas for the place too.”

  He glanced at me. “What kind of ideas?”

  “Design ideas. I wanted to modernize the place a little, but there was resistance, and I wasn’t there long enough to convince them.”

  “Maybe you’d like something in marketing or PR, then.”

  “Maybe.” A little hope bubbled up inside of me, although marketing and PR sounded like something I’d need a degree for. “But I don’t have any real experience or skills. I just know what looks nice. Or at least what I think looks nice.”

  “Skylar, anyone who meets you knows you have good taste. I think you’d be great at a job like that. You just need to market yourself confidently and find the right one.”

  Pleasure swelled inside me at his compliments, at his confidence in me. I wished I had it in myself. “Thanks. I’ll give it some thought.”

  When we reached the cabin, we hauled the boat down to the dock and put it in the water. It was late afternoon but the sun was still high in the sky, and air was hot and still, just a slight breeze off the bay. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my arm while Sebastian tied the boat to the dock.

  “I wish I’d have grabbed my bathing suit. The water looks good.”

  He looked up at me with a doubtful smile. “You’d swim? It’s a warm day, but the water’s still pretty cold.”

  I lifted my chin. “I’m a brave little toaster. Hey, do you have any sunscreen?”

  He straightened up. “Yes. Bathroom drawer on the bottom right.”

  “Thanks.” Inside, I fought the urge to rifle through Sebastian’s entire bathroom cabinet to learn more about him. I opened only the bottom right drawer, which was very neat and contained sunscreen, shaving cream, razors, and bar soap. Using the mirror over the sink, I applied some SPF 30 to my face, arms, and legs, and brought it outside with me to offer some to Sebastian.

  Oh fuck. He took off his shirt.

  My belly backhandspringed repeatedly as I approached the dock, where he was loading the paddles into the boat. Natalie hadn’t exaggerated; Sebastian was ripped. He was tall and slender, so it wasn’t an obnoxious sort of ripped, but the curves and lines on his body made my breath come faster. His skin was as beautiful as his bone structure—golden and smooth.

  “Want some of this?” I asked, holding up the sunscreen. Or some of this? I thought, refraining from patting my ass.

  “Nah. I don’t mind the sun.”

  “Sebastian! You have great skin. You should be nicer to it. Here, let me.” Hahaha, fucking genius! Hiding a smile, I flipped the lid and squirted some into my hand. “Turn around.”

  He sighed, but did as I requested, and I put my hands on his upper back. Biting my lip, I slowly rubbed the sunscreen into his skin, sliding my palms across his broad shoulders and along the back of his neck. I stayed well away from the waistband of his faded red shorts, but I did notice his blue plaid boxers peeking out above it. My stomach contracted.

  “OK. Front.”

  Slowly, he turned to face me, and I swear I was just going to offer him the tube to do it himself, but the combination of his face and those glasses and the stubbled jaw and the sculpted chest and the abs—THE ABS—overpowered me. I nearly moaned aloud, imagining how those muscles would flex as he moved above me.

  Gahhhhhh, don’t touch him, Skylar. He doesn’t want it.

  But…but abs.

  Right. If he said no, he said no.

  “Want me to do it?” I asked brightly.

  He hesitated. “OK.”

  FAHK.

  Trying to control my racing pulse, I squirted some more sunscreen into my palms and rubbed them together. Then I put them on his chest.

  And left them there.

  Awestruck, I stared at my hands on his sun-warmed chest. Bits and pieces of me tightened and tingled.

  “I think you’re supposed to rub it in.” His tone was amused.

  Honey, I’ll rub anything you want me to.

  Slowly I began to move my hands in lazy circles on his pectacular chest. When it was absorbed, I slid my hands lower without bothering to put more sunscreen on them. The hard ridges of his abdominal muscles rippled beneath my fingers, and I slid them back and forth along the furrows.

  Yes. I fingered his furrows.

  “Wow.” My voice cracked, and I s
wallowed. “You must do a lot of crunches.”

  He chuckled, and the muscles twitched beneath my palms, shooting pure lust through my veins.

  Oh, God. If it was any other guy, I’d have slipped a hand between his legs right then and there. But Sebastian was different, and I didn’t want to ruin this by moving too fast. Last time I’d gotten touchy-feely with him, he’d panicked.

  But he was still now. Too still, maybe.

  I looked up at him. “Is this OK?”

  Was this OK?

  Your hands are inches away from my rising cock. Your nipples are hard—I can see them through your shirt. You’re looking up at me with such sweet concern, but I can see the way you want me, too, and fuck, I want you that way too. But something inside me won’t let me touch you.

  I cleared my throat and took a step back. “It’s fine. Should we go?”

  Her face fell, but she nodded.

  After jumping onto the boat, I took Skylar’s hand and helped her on, but I noticed that she let go of me as soon as she had two feet on the bottom of the boat. She settled at the front, arms wrapped around her legs, sunglasses hiding her eyes.

  After untying the rope, I pushed away from the dock and picked up the oars, angry with myself again. I knew she’d been hoping I’d be fucking normal for a few minutes and at least kiss her or something, but I couldn’t. Not that I didn’t want to—my God, I was lucky I didn’t come in my pants the second she put her hands on me. Every male instinct in my body was screaming at me to throw her down right there in the boat and ravage that hot little body until she begged for mercy.

  Was I crazy not to?

  She wanted it, didn’t she?

  It had been so long…and I wanted her so fucking badly.

  As I watched her tilt her head back, lifting her face to the sun and exposing the pale white skin of her neck, I waited for the voice to kick in.

  But it didn’t. Amazed, I allowed my gaze to travel from her neck down her arms to her hands, which were crossed in front of her shins. She’d taken off her sneakers and her toenails were painted bright blue. Her legs were folded up in front of her chest, but I remembered how her nipples had been hard a few minutes ago and wondered if they still were. What color were they? Pale pink? Or deeper, like a rose? What would they feel like beneath my fingertips, between my lips, against my tongue?

  Fuck, I was so hard, and wanted so badly to touch her. I could be gentle, couldn’t I?

  It was worth a try. She was worth anything.

  “Your toes match your eyes,” I said, hoping to make her smile.

  Her lips tipped up, but she said nothing.

  “Skylar, you’ve been silent for five whole minutes. That’s a record, I think.”

  “Ha ha.”

  I stopped rowing and let us drift. On a Wednesday afternoon, there weren’t too many boats out on the bay, and none were heading in our direction. I dropped the light anchor into the water and made sure we were tethered. Skylar still hadn’t said a word, but at least she’d opened her eyes and was looking at me.

  “Everything OK?” I asked.

  She lifted her shoulders. “I’m just embarrassed. I keep touching you, and it’s the wrong thing.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  “You get so jumpy.”

  “I know, but it’s not because I don’t like it. I do. It scares me how much I do.”

  She said nothing and tipped her head back again, then wiggled so she was lying on her back on the bottom of the boat.

  Carefully I moved to her side and stretched out next to her, head propped in my hand. “Hey.” I tapped her nose.

  She ignored me, which made me smile.

  “Still thinking about taking a swim?”

  “Maybe. If I get hot enough.” She folded her hands on her belly.

  “That an invitation?”

  She stuck out her tongue at me.

  Smiling, I took her sunglasses off and studied her for another minute, appreciating the flawless symmetry of her face.

  I fucking loved symmetry.

  Her rosebud mouth pouted just a bit, and I set her glasses aside before tracing her lips with one fingertip. She was startled by my touch, her mouth opening slightly, her breaths warm and quick against my hand.

  Pretty soon I couldn’t resist—I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers.

  She let me kiss her, but didn’t really kiss me back, and her hands remained on her stomach. I lifted my head and looked down at her again. Stubborn little butterfly. Give in to me. I kissed each eyelid and the tip of her nose. Then I lowered my lips to her forehead and left them there. The voice returned.

  You really think you should do this?

  Yes. Shut the fuck up and go away. Or don’t. But I want to know what it’s like to kiss this woman, to touch her and feel her touch me. So you can either stick around and watch, or you can fuck right off.

  Feeling proud of myself, I kissed her lips once more, and her eyes opened.

  “Sebastian,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “Ignoring the voice in my head telling me not to touch you.”

  She reached up and took my face in her hands. “Good.”

  My mouth closed over hers and she rolled to her side, putting her lower body flush to mine.

  Easy, easy, I told myself as her lips opened wider and I slipped my tongue between them. She tasted sweet, like mint and honey, and I lazily stroked her tongue with mine. My hands itched to explore her body, slide beneath her clothes, feel her bare skin, but I didn’t allow myself the pleasure yet. It had been so long, and my cock ached to get inside her, but I wanted to go slow, do this right.

  She wasn’t making it easy, though—not with the way she kissed, playful and light one moment, greedily sucking my tongue into her mouth the next, not with the way she raked her nails through my hair and held my head in her hands, not with the way she pressed her curvy little body closer to mine, throwing one leg over my hip. My erection bulged against my shorts, and I put my hand on her ass to pull her closer, rub my cock against the sweet spot between her legs.

  She moaned as I kissed her throat, swirling my tongue on her skin. “Mmmm. That feels so good,” she said softly, sliding a hand down my arm. “You surprised me.”

  I buried my face in her neck, breathing in her scent. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. In a good way.” She took my jaw in her hands, bringing my mouth up to hers. As the kiss deepened, she slipped a hand between us and rubbed my cock through my shorts…sweet, soft, slow strokes that made me dig my fingers into her back and pant against her lips. I rocked my hips, thrusting against her palm, and slid my hand underneath her shirt.

  Are you fucking crazy? You can’t touch her like that. You won’t be able to stop. You’re already so hard it hurts. Another minute and you’ll be totally out of control and she’ll be helpless against you. And you’re all alone out here on the water. No one would hear her scream.

  “Skylar,” I said, leaning my forehead against hers. “Maybe we should stop.”

  “You want to stop right now?” She pressed harder against my erection. “I can think of something more fun.”

  I groaned. “I know, but—just wait.” I sat up, breathing hard.

  “Okayyyy,” she said, clearly confused.

  I shoved my sunglasses on my face and moved to the opposite end of the boat from her to sit on the bench. But first I had to adjust myself.

  She laughed. “I’d say I’m sorry, but you know I’m not.”

  “I know. And I’m not either. It’s just…” I ran a hand over my hair and decided to be honest. I’d fucked up with Diana by trying to hide shit. “The voice is telling me I’ll hurt you.”

  She looked surprised, her eyebrows rising. “It is? Right now? Tell it to fuck off.” She leaned forward conspiringly and whispered, “I like it a little rough, anyway.”

  “For God’s sake, Skylar. Don’t say that stuff to me,” I snapped. “You don’t know me at all.”

  “I’m trying, Se
bastian! What the hell?” she cried, throwing a hand up. “Listen, if we’re going to be friends and I’m going to help you through whatever issue you have being close to me, then you should get used to the way I talk. I told you, I’m a very open person. I say what’s on my mind. Now what the fuck is on yours?”

  “I told you. I’ll fucking hurt you.”

  “How?”

  The words stuck in my throat, but finally I blurted the fucked-up truth. “I’ll choke you.”

  Her jaw dropped, and her fingertips touched her throat. “Choke me?”

  I nodded angrily. “Yes. I know it’s irrational and stupid, and I know you can’t understand, but it’s real to me.”

  Rather than reassure me I was being ridiculous, she crawled over and knelt between my feet. “Sebastian,” she said firmly. “Put your hands on me.”

  “What?”

  “Around my neck. Do it.”

  “No!” I gripped the edge of the bench, and she grabbed at my wrists.

  “Come on, grab me by the throat,” she said, her voice growing louder as she grappled with me. “Choke me if you’re going to!”

  “Will you fucking stop it?” I yelled at her, putting my hands in the air. “Get away from me!”

  “No!” She stood and kept grabbing at me, the boat rocking perilously, and finally I did as she asked and wrapped my hands around her neck or else she was going to tip us over. She dropped to her knees again at my feet, her fingers tight around my wrists, holding them to her.

  I felt sick inside. “Is this what you want? For me to hurt you?”

  “You won’t hurt me.” In contrast to my panicked yelling, she spoke quietly, if a little breathlessly, and in her eyes I saw no fear. “You won’t hurt me.”

  We paused there a moment, both of us breathing hard. My heart pounded, my body coursed with adrenaline, and my hands shook. Desperately I battled the urge to count as I inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to calm my overwrought nervous system. But as the seconds ticked by and I did nothing violent, I realized she was right—I wasn’t going to harm her. My body relaxed, my breathing slowed.

  “There,” she said softly. “See?” She pulled my hands off her neck, and immediately I curled my fingers over the edge of the bench again. She scooted even closer to me, resting her arms on my thighs. “Now tell me what else to do so we can go back to what we were doing.”

 

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