by Lia Riley
“What happened down there, on the boat?”
“I messed up.”
“What are you talking about? Don’t tell me you regret joining the Sea Alliance.”
“Not until today. The work we were doing was important. Crazy shit is happening in places that the world can’t see. When they said a reality television show had contracted to film their new series about the illegal whaling, I thought it was a good idea. The crew seemed cool, like they were interested in the real issues, not spying in the bunks to see who rooted who.”
“Like a Big Brother, Antarctic Version.”
“Right.”
“I want to know what happened, why you risked your life?”
Risked MY life. I couldn’t survive losing you.
He closes his eyes as if the scene unfolds movie-style behind his lids. When he starts to speak his words come out in a quiet, monotone narrative. “It happened one of the last days. The weather turned foul, a big dirty low moved in, a storm system from nowhere, and with it came waves bigger than this house. At the same time, our last action was going down and a few folks decided to try to illegally board the whaling factory vessel.”
“Why?”
“To get arrested, be taken to Japan. Draw international media focus on the country’s illegal whaling activities in protected marine areas. The film crew was focused, all the cameras were out. Two of our people made it onto the factory ship safely. Everyone was coming back. I wasn’t on a boat. I was a deckhand, helping secure the Zodiacs as they arrived back at our ship. The guy working the back crane told me to jump in and work the controls. Get the last Zodiac up. It should have been a straightforward action—I lower the hook, the woman, Justine, grabs it and attaches to her boat. Then I lift them out of the water, onto the ship. I’d worked the crane enough, but never in those conditions. The hook was big. Heavy steel. A rogue wave came in, far bigger than the rest. Our vessel pitched the exact moment hers lifted and the hook nailed her right in the face.”
“Oh my God.”
“The way she fell. I knew she was unconscious. But she was the only one in the Zodiac. Her passengers were over on the factory ship.” He bunches his hands into fists, knuckles white. “If she had remained alone she would have been swept overboard. Even though she was wearing a full immersion suit, in those conditions, it would be game over.”
My chin trembles. “So you jumped?”
“I didn’t even think. It was pure reaction. I saw where I was positioned, where the Zodiac was, it was a perfect drop. If I hesitated even for a second, the moment would be gone.”
I’m dizzy, black spots fire off on the edge of my peripheral vision. “You could have died.”
“If I hadn’t tried, she would have.” His breath comes in shallow rasps.
“You really are a hero.”
He blinks rapidly. “I caused the accident, Talia. It wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been for me cocking it up in the first place.”
“Stop.” I place my hand on his jaw, force him to look at me.
“What?” Muscles clench beneath my hand.
“Being so hard on yourself. The situation sounds like madness. I know it’s different seeing it from television, but the conditions sounded totally rotten. You were a hero.”
A shudder runs through him. “Can we stop talking about it?”
I scoot closer. “Fine, but none of that changes how I think about you.”
“I miss…” He brackets my hip with his hand. “I miss talking with you.”
“Me too.”
Having him cuddled in close with no tension—the moment’s almost too much. Sometimes good hurts, like if you’ve been out in the cold for too long and come inside. That first hit of warmth is enough to make you scream.
“Oh, Talia.” He buries his face in my hair. “Talia, Talia, Talia.”
“Every night I went to bed in my hut and I would imagine us, like this.”
“Was it a nice place, this bed of yours?”
“The only furniture I had, besides a table and a stool. I did pretty much everything there.”
“Did you now?”
“You turn the most innocent comments dirty.”
“It’s a gift.”
“A sexual superpower.”
He shrugs. “My thoughts have been gutter-bound since last night.”
The image of him jacking off in the shower powers up my desire machine. Deep in my lower belly, a complex conveyor system of belts and pulleys delivers molten tingles between my legs. Holy crap, all systems are go. I need an effing hard hat.
“Yeah, um…so, it’s been a while.”
“Understatement.”
I fiddle the sheet, play peekaboo with the hollow of his throat. “I’m not on the pill.”
He frowns. “And I don’t have any condoms.”
A major logistical problem. I groan my frustration, torn between an urge to be responsible, and a wild urge to keep going, damn the torpedoes.
He rests his forehead against mine. “We can still be with each other, talk and stuff.”
“After you left I told Dad I’d go to graduation.”
“That’s good, Captain. Really good.” He traces the corner of my mouth.
I hope my smile covers my wince. I’m still nervous about returning to Santa Cruz, but I did work hard to get off academic probation. A bachelor’s in history might not be much in the grand scheme of things. Still, it’s a straw to grasp at. A sign that I’ve accomplished something. “He booked two rooms at a hotel on the bay. We’ll all drive over tonight after they finish with work. Oh, and he doesn’t want us sharing a bed.”
“Talia—”
“I’ll talk to him. Really, I will.”
“We lived together in Tasmania. I want you close. Sneaking around isn’t going to work for me.”
“I know, I know.” I scrub my face. “It’s just my dad, you know? He doesn’t make it easy and it’s like I have to go, ‘Yo, Dad, me and Bran, we want to bone down.’”
“Want me to do it?”
“I’ll spare you the torture. You and me—this is an idea he’s going to have to get used to. Where you go, I go. Where you sleep, I sleep.”
“Thank you.”
“Besides, even though you don’t want to hear it, I think the sight of you going all wild man blew his mind.”
“Bloody hell.”
“I swear his Grinchy heart grew every time we hit rewind and watched again.”
He bites my earlobe, lightly, right on the tip and removes the slight sting with the flat of his tongue.
“But remember we can’t—”
“There are loads of ways to make you feel good, Captain.”
“Oh?”
“And because it must be said, these are fucking sexy jams.” He skims the fleece waistband of my lounge pants—the ones imprinted with hearts and grinning cartoon squirrels.
“They’re ancient, from high school.”
He emits a ragged sound. “Oh, that’s a turn-on, not gonna lie.”
I tsk-tsk. “Naughty boy.” My giggles are eclipsed when he skims the top of my bare ass.
“No underwear?”
All I can do is shake my head.
His answering groan pulls from me this sound that hovers midrange between a giggle and a whimper.
“This makes things more interesting.” He continues his exploration.
I lost so much weight in Africa. “The landscape is different. My butt’s gone.”
He hauls me closer, nuzzles my temple. “That ass was a friend of mine, but it’s still there, just a little different.”
“Like me.”
“And me.”
Chapter Eight
Bran
I nibble across Talia’s lower lip on a reconnaissance mission. We are alone finally, Scott and Jessie gone to work. The house is all ours. Curiosity tugs my gut. How much has she changed? I want to take us fast, but need to stay slow. Let us get reacquainted. Make her comfortable. Her mouth holds a wi
ld herbal quality—chamomile tea and honey. I move in for another teasing taste and oh, hell yeah, there we go, that indefinably Talia essence.
She squirms, rubs her knees together in a herky-jerky way.
I slide my palms up until one hand cups her jaw while the other snarls her hair. Our tongue tips meet in hesitant greeting before an invisible thunderclap breaks. We storm each other in a desperate reunion. Our moans tangle. The kiss deepens until we tremble with the need for air. Her fingers are strong, locked between my shoulders like if she presses hard enough our atoms will form new molecules.
I rub my cheek across hers and move lower, over her tensed neck, the rise of her breasts. “Remember the first time I ever touched you?”
“Like it was five minutes ago.”
“I’d never seen anyone so sexy.” I skim my fingers over her hitching lower belly, down to where soft hairs graze the back of my knuckles.
Her lids flutter. “That’s a tricky thing to say.”
“Why’s that?” I slide my hand between her legs, circle, soft and light, the way she loves. Her hips mimic my rhythm.
“Of course you’ve seen hotter girls, that’s an…oh, Jesus God…an empirical fact.”
“But I—”
“I’m not trying to feed you an I-don’t-think-I’m-pretty-so-that’s-what-makes-me-pretty line. Yes! There. Keep touching exactly right there. You know, like in a movie where the girl is supercute, but wears thick glasses and—”
“Talia, are you ready to shut up and come?”
Her eyes widen.
“I want to love on you. Scratch that. I’m ready to worship.” I cover her mouth with mine, fuck her with my tongue until her back arches, her core clenching tight. “I’ll ask again. Are. You. Ready. To. Come?”
Her fingers roam my shoulder blades. “Holy Christmas, what’s next? ‘Sing for me my Angel of Music’?”
“Hey.” I pause. “I know that reference.”
“Stop the presses.” She rocks against me, urges my movement.
“My sister loves Phantom of the Opera.” My index and middle fingers find the sides of her clit and glide down and inside. The move drives her crazy and only works when she’s this wet.
Her reply is a ragged gasp, a writhe.
“You can sing for me. I don’t mind.”
Her panting breaths drive me crazy. She tosses her head from side to side. “Please…”
“Please what?”
She’s slick and delicate; makes me protective, careful, like I’ve been given something precious. I slow down.
She bucks her hips in protest. “No, no, faster.”
“Talia?”
“Mmmm?” She licks her lips.
“Eyes on me,” I coax.
Her unfocused gaze catches mine. “Love you.”
“Always and forever.”
Her skin is scorching. Clit slick. Her legs jerk involuntarily as she comes hard, her orgasm milking my fingers.
“Holy God.” Bliss coats her words as she collapses against me.
“Yes?”
“That wasn’t a direct salutation.” She’s all dazed smiles and giggles.
“Can I at least get an amen?”
“Preach.”
“I haven’t even started.” All it takes is a tug and her pajama pants tumble down. Bloody hell, I really do love these things. I free her ankles and toss the wadded fleece to the floorboards.
She props on her elbows. “You’re joking, right? Because I can’t possibly—”
“What are the last four letters of American, Captain?” I spread her thighs before she finishes her eye roll. The sight of her—damn, I need a minute. “When’s the last time you came?”
“I…” Her brow knits.
“You’ve been touching yourself?”
Color fires her cheeks. “A few times, in Africa, but not since before I got sick.”
“So it’s been what? A little more than a month?”
“Longer. What about you?”
“Pretty much daily.”
Her tongue dots the center of her upper lip. “You’ve made it a regular habit to masturbate in the guest bathroom shower?”
“Yep.”
“I’d no idea.”
“It’s not a topic to raise with your dad and Jessie over dinner.”
“I haven’t made the last month easy.”
“I prefer endurance to sprints.”
Her lips crook. “You want to go the distance?”
“I’ve got a game plan.” I slide a hand from her splayed knee to her center, enter a finger, draw out and return, this time with two.
“I seem to be winning.”
“Ah, sweetheart, don’t you see?” There it is, the secret spot, deep inside. I crook my fingers in a beckoning, come-hither motion and she bows. I do it again and she grabs her hair in two violent handfuls. The third time she screams. “I’m playing for keeps.”
“Holy fuck, Bran.” She looks bewildered and sounds drunk.
I drop forward, my face between her thighs. “There’s a prayer I can get behind.”
* * *
We drive from Sacramento to Santa Cruz with her dad and Jessie in the front seat. I can’t bear to look at Talia in her tiny skirt beside me. I’m reduced to a horny seventeen-year-old trying to lose his virginity. We stopped at a petrol station twenty minutes ago, and Scott cock blocked me from buying condoms by coming in to take a leak.
I’ve got balls, but not enough to buy rubbers under a father’s nose.
“Dad,” Talia pipes up.
He turns down public radio. “Hmmm?”
“I want to touch on the room situation for when we get to the hotel.”
“You and Jessie will pair up, so will Bran and I.” His tone is curt.
“Yeah, about that. Um, no.”
“Come again?” Scott’s hands clench and unclench on the steering wheel.
“Bran and I lived together in Australia. We are going to be moving into a place once we leave Bankside.”
“Listen, Peanut—”
Jessie reaches a hand over the console. “I’m thirty-two weeks along, honey. I need my baby daddy close at hand.”
Scott’s shoulders drop. Jessie in for the win. Can’t argue with a pregnant lady.
Talia glances over at me and does a furtive hip shimmy that doesn’t do anything to improve the situation in my pants.
Scott’s an overprotective father and that’s fine and good, but Talia’s capable of so much. She’s right there, hovering on the edge and only needs to give herself permission to fly. When she does, everyone will gawk and say, I never saw that coming!
Except for me. I always knew.
Talia and I get a room overlooking Monterey Bay all to ourselves. We toss our bags on the king-sized bed and explore. The bathroom is massive. A sunken tub? Two nights? I can work with this. Inspiration strikes and I turn on the tap.
“You want a bath?” she asks.
I turn and lift her shirt, circling my thumb around her navel. “I want you to have a bath. Let me spoil you.”
Her eyes hood as my hand rises higher, cupping her breast. “No complaints for this quarter.”
I’d take her here, on the tiles, but she deserves care. Instead, I help her into the steamy water, kneel beside the tub, and massage shampoo through her long hair as she sighs. She looks like she does right after she comes, blissed out. The tub is filled with the hotel’s complimentary jasmine bubble bath. The water temperature is hot, enough so that she sucked in her breath upon entry, her tight muscles relaxing despite herself.
“Mmmmmm…that’s nice.”
Bloody hell, she purrs like a cat.
“I want to take care of you.”
“Aren’t I supposed to take care of myself?”
“Fine, I’ll settle for bath boy.”
I’ve never washed another person’s hair before, but with her, all the stuff, the little gestures that always seemed too intimate, too much, are just right. Every touch I put on her bo
dy is tender. Hell yes I want to take things further. The way she looks? All soaped-up nakedness? Hotter than blazes. During the drive to Santa Cruz, I mulled 3,406 dirty ways to have this girl. But she unwinds under my hands, distracted from her worries, and that’s what slows me, keeps me gentle, careful.
After all she’s been through, I want her feeling safe, adored, to understand no matter how bad her darkness gets, I will always believe in her light. I don’t speak these words though. Sometimes touch makes for better communication. Words only go so far.
Talia is the only person I’ve encountered at the perfect intersection between mind and body—the sweet spot on a Venn diagram. I rinse her pretty hair clean, careful not to get any water or soap in her eyes. She doesn’t squint or squirm. She trusts me. God knows why, but to her I am a hero.
She makes me want to be the best version of myself.
I’m trying, and it’s bloody hard work. She deserves a man not a sulky boy who pitches a fit when things don’t go his way.
Of all the things she teaches me, the most important is dropping defenses without fear of where the next punch will land. I have loads to learn, but I’m getting there.
When she starts to cry I don’t make a single shhhhhh-ing sound.
Not all tears are bad. Better to have her cleansed inside and out.
“Get in here with me,” she whispers.
“You know we can’t do anything without—”
“Yeah, I know.”
I’ve gotten a girl accidently pregnant before. I’ll never be so careless as to put another person, or myself, through that again.
“Hey, I love that you’re careful with me. I just want you closer, skin to skin.”
I stand, strip, and drop into the opposite end of the bath.
Bubbles part around her body as she moves forward, crawls on top of me.
The feel of her is so good I almost cry out. She’s it for me, forever, the last girl I’ll ever love.
She drapes her arms around my neck and we kiss and kiss. Even though I’m rock hard, I don’t let my hands slide below her shoulders.
“Brandon.”
I freeze. Talia never calls me by my full name.
“You know how I say I love you?”
“Yeah?”
Her lids close for a millisecond and then that warm brown gaze is back on me. There’s this weird sensation in my chest like she’s got magnets in her eyes and they tug at my heart.