Held Against You
Page 22
Fed up with the lack of waves, I head inside and shower. Hours later, I’ve done a load of laundry, reorganized the furniture in the guest room, and have tired of watching Internet porn. I’m parked in front of the laptop looking at real estate in South America when I hear the front door open.
There’s a loud clatter, a thump, and then giggling.
“Kat?” I say stretching my neck to get a better view. “Is that you?”
“Yep,” she answers, popping the p.
I push the computer from my lap and walk to the front of the house. The door is wide open and Kat is lying face down, her arms spread out on each side. A low, tinkling laughter echoes off the tile floor where her face presently rests. Her feet are tangled in the bottom of her pink dress.
“It’s comfy here. I think I’ll stay,” she says.
“Are you okay?”
She laughs and rolls over, her head now between my feet. Her wet hair sticks to her face and chest like red stripes on a zebra. Her eyes are glossy and they stare at the ceiling as if it’s more interesting than my face. I can smell the tequila she’s consumed.
“Immakay,” she slurs. “Just fell over that thingy.” Her hand wildly gestures to the doorway where there is no thingy to be found.
“You’re drunk.”
“Uh huh. Me and Piper had the drinks,” she says, hissing the s sounds.
I walk around, grab both of her hands, and pull her up. She stumbles and leans into me wrapping her arms around my waist.
“Mmm, this is good.”
“Come on. Let’s get you to bed,” I say.
Kat looks up at me finally, her mouth forming a perfect O shape. “Well, Mr. Turner. I thought you’d never ask.”
Her wobbly feet keep tripping me, so I pick her up and carry her down the hall to her room. I set her down on the bed where she immediately starts stripping out of her clothes.
“I’ll go get you some water,” I say turning and running for the door.
“Samuel!”
I stop and turn to face her. She’s standing at the edge of the bed, teetering a bit. The thick white loops of the rug seem to curl around her feet and keep her in place. All she wears is a pink strapless bikini. Suddenly, I feel drunk, too.
“Kat,” I beg. Please let me go.
“Why don’t you want me? Huh?” Kat asks. She saunters toward me and I’m surprised that she doesn’t waver. She places her hands on my shoulders, the heat from her palms burn through my thin shirt. I can tell she’s working hard to keep her words and thoughts clear. “I want you, Samuel. All of you. Everything. The good, the bad, and the worst parts of you. And not just tonight. Because everything in me says that we belong together. Yes, the universe had a fucked-up way of making that happen. But I don’t care. Stop fighting us.”
One hand skates up my neck, her fingers weave into my hair.
“I can’t,” I whisper, my throat dry.
“One day I’m good enough, the next, I’m not.”
“It’s not you, Kat.”
“Spare me the bullshit.” She pulls close now, pressing her tight little body to mine. I close my eyes and think of anything but the feel of her skin against mine and the truthful words she speaks. “How can you deny what we have?”
Kat launches herself at me. She pulls me down, her lips wrestle mine into submission. All my fight vanishes. I kiss her back because I need it. I need her. My arms wrap around her and she hops up crossing her ankles behind my back. I walk forward and when my knees hit the bed, I let us fall together.
“Whoa,” she says when our tangled bodies bounce on the mattress. “That wasn’t a good idea. I think I’m gonna throw up.” She closes her eyes and slaps her palms flat against the sheets beneath us. “Nope. I’m good.”
I snap out of my lustful haze and remove my lips from her skin. I can’t do this while she’s drunk. I swore I’d never do it at all.
“I’m going to go. You need to sleep.”
I stand and run my hands through my hair, smoothing it down where she’s been tugging. I hurry to the door and try to make a quick escape.
“No,” she calls softly. “Don’t leave. Please.”
Her words, laced with desperation stop me mid-step. I scrub my face with my hands and exhale slowly. I walk back to her and it feels like foreshadowing for the rest of my life. She’s a beautiful girl who’s asking nothing of me, but to stay.
I reach behind my head and pull my shirt off. Kat raises her arms as I slide it onto her. She struggles to remove her bikini and when it’s finally off, she scoots back and lays against her pillow.
No words are spoken between us as I crawl next to her. She wraps herself around me and falls into an alcohol-induced sleep. One arm curls around her back while the other hand slides to her thigh. I’m awake for hours.
* * *
The next morning, I wake to an empty bed. I sit up and look outside to find Kat sipping coffee. She’s wrapped in a knitted blanket and staring out at the water.
After using the bathroom, I head to the kitchen and fix myself a cup of coffee. I slide two pieces of bread into the toaster and wait as the coils begin to glow red orange. When Kat walks in, she gives me a sheepish smile and sits at the island. Her fingers trace an invisible pattern on the granite countertop. She refuses to look me in the eye.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she offers.
“It’s okay.”
“No. It’s not. I promised myself I wouldn’t push you. The moment my inhibitions were lowered, that’s exactly what I did.”
I turn and face the toaster when it pops up, not able to choose the right words. With my back to the room, I hear her bare feet on the tile floor as she approaches.
“I’m really sorry, Samuel.” I turn to face her now. There are dark circles of leftover makeup under her eyes. Her thin brows crinkle and she looks so sad. It kills me. “You should know something though.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I meant everything I said last night. I just didn’t have the courage to say it before.”
There’s no movement from either of us. The air is still, our breaths locked inside our chests. There is only room for truth between us.
“Then, I’ll stay,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I don’t belong anywhere else.”
Kat squeals and wraps her arms around me. A heaviness lifts off my shoulders, a long time-carried weight gone, the moment I give in to Katherine Percle.
* * *
Kat sleeps most of the day, recovering from her night of cheap drinks. I make us a simple dinner of chicken quesadillas. She practically inhales her first piece before slowing down to chew.
“These are great. I’m starved,” she says with a mouth full of food.
“I see that.” She returns her attention to the meal. “So, how’d you get home last night?”
Kat looks up at the ceiling, no doubt trying to recount last night’s events. “It’s a little blurry, but I think Piper brought me back on the scooter and her boyfriend followed us.”
I nod and drink down half of my beer.
“So, I guess you two had fun?”
“Too much. I’m a wild girl, but I couldn’t keep up with her,” Kat says laughing. “Obviously.”
“Out partied by a tourist. The locals would be horrified.”
“Am I a local already? This gringo needs time to acclimate.”
“No time. It’s instant,” I tease.
She smiles and shakes her head at me.
“Oh! I invited Piper and her boyfriend to dinner here for Easter. It’ll be their last weekend before she heads home.”
I stop chewing and look at her. “Really?” I ask. The thought of strangers in my house makes me instantly uncomfortable, but I know it’s my personal issue and push it aside.
“I hope that’s okay.”
“Uh, I guess that’s fine,” I say scratching the back of my neck.
“I’ll cook,” Kat offers.
�
��I hope so. This is the only thing I make that’s edible.”
After dinner we wash the dishes together and lock up the house. Kat meets me in the hall. “Will you move into my room?” she asks. “Our room.”
I nod and follow her to bed, deciding we’ll move my things tomorrow.
Soon we’re wrapped up in cool sheets and each other. Kat slides her hand over my chest, down my stomach and traces the lines of my compass tattoo. Every touch from this girl drives me wild.
“If you’re feeling better tomorrow, I’ll take you out and show you my Cabo.”
Kat yawns and her fingers splay out along my ribs.
“That sounds great.”
* * *
Kat enters the kitchen, her bag over one shoulder. She looks much better than the day before. I throw the contents of her bag in my backpack, along with four bottles of water.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Let’s go.”
We take my car and drive over an hour to Santiago. We’re out all day, hiking to the waterfalls and swimming in the clear water. I laugh more than I can ever remember doing so. Not only am I discovering Kat, but I am rediscovering myself.
The ride home is quiet, but comfortable. My hand rests on her thigh while Kat leans out the window and watches the scenery fly by. When we arrive back at the house, I park the car but neither of us move. It’s as if we both fear we’ll lose all the progress made today if we step back into reality.
“What do we do now?” I ask, tapping my thumbs against the steering wheel.
“Now, we just live one day at a time. I want to experience everything here and I want you to be the one to show me.”
Her freckled, sun-kissed face is all smiles.
“We’ll drink expensive tequila until we pass out in the hammock behind the house. I’ll take you to have steak dinners and lobster tacos. We’ll hang out at beach bars, listen to live music, and make fun of tourists.”
“And dancing? Can we go dancing?” Kat asks.
“Uh, I don’t dance.”
“I’m sure I could persuade you.”
I shrug. “I doubt I have the strength to deny you.”
“You never did,” she teases.
My mouth drops open and I sit motionless for a few seconds. Kat jumps from the car and takes off running for the front door giggling. I’m right behind her, but when Kat reaches the house, she stops. I slam into the back of her, wrapping my arms around her waist to keep her from falling over.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“The door’s open.”
“What?” I look up and see the door cracked open a few inches. There’s no sign of forced entry and the alarm is disabled. “How?” I look back to Kat. “Didn’t you come back in for your sunglasses?”
“Yeah.”
“So, did you close it behind you?”
“I.… I…”
I grab her shoulders and turn her away from the house. “Kat, did you lock and close the door?”
“I thought I did. But maybe not. I … I can’t remember.”
“Shit! Stay here. Do not fucking move from this spot. Do you understand?”
She nods her head, her worried eyes searching mine for assurance. I give her shoulder a squeeze and slip in through the door, leaving it open behind me. Scanning the space, I don’t find anything out of place. In the kitchen, I run my hand behind the fridge and grab the pistol stored there. I hear Kat gasp, probably unaware of such safety precautions throughout the house. I check the clip and slide it back into place.
I don’t think about how or why someone would break in. Instead, I keep my mind focused on the task at hand, checking every closet and pantry as Kat watches from the front door. I move down the hall, investigating every room before clearing it and moving on to the next. My pulse is quick, but I stay calm and in control.
“Samuel?” Kat calls from outside. “Samuel?” she calls again, her voice wavering.
I step from the hall and run into her searching the main room. “Shit, Samuel! I think I peed a little.”
I laugh at her and close the front door. “I told you to stay outside.”
“I got worried,” she protests.
“The house is clear. You probably just didn’t pull the door closed all the way.”
Kat takes a seat on the sofa and puts her face in her hands. She stares at the gun for a few seconds and turns to me.
“How many of those do you have tucked around here?”
“A few.”
“I hope we never need them.”
“Me too,” I answer.
* * *
I enter the six-digit code on the keypad and wait for the green light to appear. When it does, I turn the handle and pull open the door to the safe. Inside sit a few stacks of cash, my favorite gun, and the only photo of my mother in existence.
“Kat,” I call. “Can you get me the key?”
I know it was our fault the door was open, but still there’s a nagging feeling that I’m missing something. I’ll feel better with it locked away along with my valuables.
“Sure,” she says. She enters the bathroom and comes out with it dangling from her fist. “Here.” She watches me put it in the safe and stands on her tiptoes to see inside. “What else do you have in there? Your porn stash?”
I remove the photo of my mom and hold it up in the light from the window. It’s a bit faded now, but the diminished colors could do nothing to lessen the image. She’s wearing a simple white dress and smiling brightly at the camera. The four-year-old version of me sits on her lap caught in mid-laugh. My mouth is open showing off tiny straight teeth. Fat cheeks raise up so high my eyes are slits. I search that kid’s face and wonder if the darkness had started to creep in yet. Were these two seemingly happy people already on the downward spiral that would eventually destroy them?
“You have her eyes,” Kat says. “And smile.” I nod silently. “I forget what that looks like, your smile.”
She wraps her arms around me and pulls her body to mine. I put my mother’s photo back into the safe, close and lock it, and slide the framed art back in place.
24: her
Over the next few weeks, Samuel keeps me occupied on all kinds of escapades. He introduces me to his favorite places in and around Los Cabos. He’s into extreme sports and anything dangerous, though I guess that shouldn’t surprise me. We hike to waterfalls, go kayaking, he tries to teach me to surf, and we ride dune buggies in the desert. The rock climbing was my least favorite. I had a hard time trusting my life to a tiny nylon rope and a hook. But, as with everything else, Samuel kept me safe.
On top of all that, his appetite for me hasn’t diminished one bit. I love how he loses control, how I can push and tease him until he’s practically purring from my touch. The attraction is not one-sided, though. He knows how to push my buttons, so to speak. With one look, a fiery glance, or dimpled smirk, I’m absolute putty in his hands. And what capable hands they are. Samuel has claimed me on every surface of this house and every one outside as well. We’ve had sex in the water, in his car, and almost in the hammock–I’ve still got the scar on my elbow.
It’s one grand adventure after another and frankly, I’m ready for some relaxation. I call up Piper at her hotel and we make plans to spend the day together, just lounging on the beach.
When I pass through the main room, Samuel is in the kitchen wearing athletic shorts, tennis shoes, and no shirt. He’s sweaty, just back from his morning run, and stands in front of the open fridge gulping down a bottle of water. That sight, first thing in the morning, makes it a lot more difficult to leave.
“Now would be a great time to try pouring the water bottle over your head thing,” I suggest.
He shakes his head and finishes the water. “That’s only for guys who need hotness points.” He flexes his arm and casually leans against the counter. “I’m good.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “And so humble, too. I’m going to hang out with Piper for the day.” Samuel lifts one eyeb
row at me. “No tequila this time.”
“Have fun,” he says. He pulls open a drawer and removes two cell phones, holding one out to me. “I got this for you yesterday.” I take it from him and slide my thumb over the screen. “My number is the only one in there. Call me if you need anything.”
As much as I once missed my tech devices, I feel no joy now. It was kind of nice being detached from the rest of the world. Though I do still follow my favorite blogs online using Samuel’s computer. I’m newly self-aware, not a hermit.
I drop the phone into my bag and reach up on my tiptoes to kiss his lips. He tastes like sweat and Samuel, so delicious. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”
He yanks me back and pins me against the steel refrigerator door.
“Gross,” I say, breathless and dishonest. “You’re all sweaty.”
Samuel leans down, his warm breath on my neck. Chills race down my arms.
“Be safe,” he says, before kissing my shoulder and heading for the shower.
* * *
“Oh! Look at this,” I say, picking up a wooden bracelet from a nearby table.
The market is crowded today with locals and tourists shopping for handmade goods, flowers, fruit, and seafood. I slip the bracelet on my wrist and hold my arm out to Samuel. He barely looks at it before his eyes search up and down the street.
That’s how it’s been for the past three weeks. He’s always on alert, always watching and waiting for something to happen. Some nights I don’t think he sleeps at all. Samuel says he’s just being cautious, that we got too comfortable here. I think he’s being overly cautious. I thought we were safe, so I’m not sure what he’s afraid of.
I twist my arm back and forth, looking at the intricate design carved into the bracelet.
“Samuel, don’t you like it?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“Do you think it looks good on me?”
“Of course,” he answers again.
“Did you know if I turn it around three times and say SHIZAM it makes me time travel?”