She was rambling because she was nervous. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe he was seeing the real Trista. The one who hid behind the “Just one of the guys” and “I’ve seen everything there is to be seen when it comes to men” talk.
“Well, we could just go rinse off together, if you like. I’ve got sand, just about everywhere.”
“Okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
In the bathroom, Trista turned on the light and opened the shower door. It was a standing only type with no tub.
When you have the ocean at your feet, this is pretty insignificant.
“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”
“Yes,” she said ahead of a few quick blinks. He’d watched diligently all night to see if she’d criss-cross her wrists and she hadn’t done it. Little nerves were normal. That must be what these were. He’d do his best to get her through them.
Slowly, he pulled off his belt and then undid the waistband of his jeans, nervous as all get out. He’d been staring at her pretty feet when he let his pants fall to the ground. Admiring her from the floor where she stood, his gaze adoringly rose up her legs until he spied the bottom hem of her dress and Trista’s fingers gripped tightly around it, fiddling with the material.
Plain as day, she was unsure of something.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Please tell me.”
“I don’t know. I want you. I know you care about me and I feel the same. I just, I feel like I don’t know what to do. I…”
“Do you need a little help?”
She nodded.
He kissed her gently on the cheek then pulled away to reach down and grab the ends of her dress in his hands. He lifted it as she raised her arms to allow it over her head. She let out a big breath that caused him to pull in on his lower lip.
Lord don’t let her be afraid of me. Give us plenty of time to do this slowly, please.
Before he could fumble his way to the back clasp of her bra, Trista hopped into the shower, still wearing her underclothes. Seeing the panic widen her eyes, he quickly stepped in after her. The thin fabric of his boxers soaked instantly and stuck to him like second skin. Well, they needed rinsing too, after all.
Honey blonde curls, weighed down by the pounding showerhead water, streamed down her back until they touched the waistband of her panties. He couldn’t help but trail his hand down to where the strands ended.
Standing toe to toe, Trista reached up and let his ponytail fall loose. His own wet hair fell annoyingly in his eyes and over his ears. He had to push it back from his face so he could watch her but she beat him to it. Her hands swiped over his cheekbones like tender magic. She bit her bottom lip, sealing the thought of how incredibly hot the action was until she pulled down his boxers and he decided that was hotter. God, he’d been waiting for this for so long. When she accidentally let the wet elastic of his waistband snap him, he winced. He handled it, though, and then took in a breath as she carefully led the material out and over his erection. She glanced downward and then back up with a snap.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Remember our promise, okay?” Slowly, he undid the clasp of her bra but held it to her breasts for a moment to gauge her reaction. Her hands tensed at his hips but then her fingers inched to his back and squeezed his butt. They were okay. He moved down to the thin strings of her panties, admiring how the water funneled down the pattern of her soft but trim belly. The shower floor was littered with their underclothes. The most amazing feeling came next. When he pulled her to him, the skin of their tummies vapor-locked. In that moment, he felt everything he’d made her promise she would before letting this happen.
Like a king standing before the most decadent feast, he realized what he wanted most. He wanted to please Trista.
Her nipples were the prettiest he’d seen, a little lighter than he’d imagined, but perfect. He kept his stare locked on hers as he dipped lower. Looking up into her eyes now, he opened his mouth and slid his tongue out so she would know what he was after.
“Mmm,” she said so low he barely heard her.
She blinked but otherwise watched his every move as he glided his tongue along the side curve of her breast and then around to the front where he found and teased her beaded nipple. Lord, watching her watch him was without a doubt the sexiest experience of his life but he had to finally close his eyes for the spraying water. When he did, his drive became fierce like a wild animal and he felt like he could devour her on the spot.
He left her one nipple to taste the other and nearly sucked in a breath full of water when she cupped herself in her hand and offered her slick breast to him. It was hard to breathe but he didn’t care. There were worse ways to die than at the mercy of the woman of his dreams. He was about to shift them away from the showerhead when he felt her other hand at the back of his head, urging him to take more of her into his mouth. There was his Trista. Unashamed to show him what she needed. Lord she was so sexy. The combination of her pressing fingers in his hair and her breasts pillowing his face while the water showered them sent a new surge of hunger to his cock, making it jerk and harden all the more. He moaned as he rubbed himself against her hip.
She had to feel exactly how badly he needed her. Because of his eagerness to continue tasting the rest of her luscious body, her breast popped from his mouth when he pulled away. She smiled at him as he made sure she watched while he sank down to his knees. He trailed his hands firmly along the sides of her wet body, using her as a guide, until he kneeled on some of their clothing. It made for a comfortable cushion which was good because he planned to be there for a while.
“Darlin’, open your legs a little wider for me please.”
Her eyes widened with anticipation and she did as he asked.
“Do you like this?” she asked when she moved her hands to the top of his wet head.
“Your hands in my hair? Yes.”
“Okay.” She just smiled and bit her bottom lip.
Everything was perfect.
He opened her fleshy, warm lips wide with his thumbs and nuzzled his nose into a spot where he could both breathe and please her until she melted in his mouth. The tip of his tongue found the swollen little nub poking out. With a long deep lick, he tasted her, losing his mind in complete ecstasy as she held his head and nuzzled herself against his face. He could be drowning for all he knew. The shooting water and her whimpers continued to be the only sounds he heard as he dined like the most privileged king.
Until her phone rang once, twice, three times and a fourth. It began a fifth time.
“Screw. Me.”
Before he could make sense of what was happening outside of their shower, she hissed the curse, “God dammit.”
Unable to let go, even with the disruption of the phone, his hands stayed fixed at her hips while the water fell over them. Until she peeled away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t. The phone had lain there obediently the whole night. And now, the ring tone he’d come to know as Jaxon’s broke through their perfect shower.
Chapter Nineteen
“Really, it’s okay, I’ll wait.”
Why am I answering this stupid phone?
“Sorry, Lucky. I’ll just see what it is, quickly. I promise.” Reluctantly, she stepped from the steamed sliding doors on shaky legs, leaving her southern gentleman who knew just a little more about pleasure than she’d have thought. If it had been anyone else, she’d have ignored it. Jaxon better be lying on the floor, nearly dead, or she’d kill him herself.
“Jaxon? What do you need? I’m kind of busy.”
No answer. At least not with words. A pained groan wallowed through from Jaxon’s end. She checked the time displayed on her phone. It was almost one a.m. Normal times for him to be awake but not generally calling me. He knew she was usually asleep on her couch in the studio by midnight.
“Jaxon, what is it?”
Lucky turned the
shower head off and came to stand, dripping wet at her side. If it hadn’t been for his complete, beautiful, glorious nakedness as a reminder, she’d have forgotten she too stood there soaking the fluffy white rug beneath their feet.
“Jaxon?” Her voice rose and hammered in her throat.
But again all she got in response was a strange sound. “Jaxon, I’m calling 911 if you don’t answer me!”
At that, Lucky grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his waist then tucked another under her arms. It hung open in the back until she turned around so he could secure it for her. Right now her hands were needed for things like shaking her phone and snagging her hair. She had no real intention of calling the police, but Jaxon had better speak to her soon or she might.
“No, no, no. Please,” Jaxon slurred from his end.
“Shit, Jaxon, what’s wrong, hun?” Her anger dissolved into worry. “Where are you? Are you at home?”
It sounded close enough to an “Mm-hmm”.
“Hold on, hun. I’m on my way now. Just hold on.”
“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Lucky chased her out of the bathroom. She sped lightning fast to her backpack where she snatched out the first clean dress she found and started to dress.
“I don’t know, but something isn’t right with Jaxon. I have to get over to his house.”
“Well, why don’t you call 911? If something is wrong, they’ll get there faster. Wouldn’t that be better?” Lucky grabbed his jeans he’d kicked along the floor in his chase. He pulled them on over his bare butt and then followed her hastily again out to the front room. She grabbed his red and black shirt that was still damp; even though she’d taken great care to stretch it out over a heating vent, and tossed it to him. And then his boots, no socks. She was already clutching her backpack and out the door, waiting for him to follow so she could lock up.
“No, no police. No reports.” She didn’t explain any further. Hopefully Lucky could follow along and understand it would hurt Jaxon where his daughter was concerned. Lucky tailed her to the Jeep without another question. A minute later they pulled out and headed north on the freeway. She didn’t bother to tether her hair. The stinging wet slaps across her cheeks and neck served as a wakeup call. No matter how carried away she might get with a possible new future, her past would always be there, crushing her back into its inescapable darkness.
Jaxon’s Saab was parked near the thickest section of his night blooming jasmines. The house was dark, quiet and unlocked. Pretty normal for her night owl best friend. Lucky let them in when Jaxon didn’t answer. While she doubted burglary, it was a possibility. Neighborhood watch wasn’t always the best in these cliff side homes designed especially for the reclusive.
“Jaxon, are you here?” Her voice traveled up the stairs, stopped at the closed doors and then reverberated back down. She’d always been enchanted by the echo from the high arched ceilings. But tonight it sounded more eerie than anything else. “Jaxon?”
“Do you think he’s outside? Maybe in the pool?” Lucky sounded eager to find his cousin.
“No, he never uses it.” It was for the girls. At one time, she’d counted herself in that group.
They stumbled through the spacious downstairs hallway, passing the vacant dining room, still decorated in streamers and balloons. A sliver of moonshine shot through a window and reflected off the shiny silver cellophane.
She thought she’d knocked over a lamp but realized it laid there at her feet, already shattered. This cave seriously couldn’t have been darker. Finally she flicked on a light. Although not a complete mess, two lamps lay in pieces on the floor looking like they’d been hurled across the room. She had to find Jaxon; this was bad.
“I’ll go upstairs, okay?” Lucky gently rubbed her shoulder. “Why don’t you check Maryella’s room?”
Blonde braids and marble like eyes flashed in her mind. With a renewed shot of “get your butt moving”, she dashed to the little girl’s door, sweating over what she may or may not find. Where the hell was everyone?
She opened the creamy wooden door and found part of her answer. Jaxon was sitting on the floor, on the Neapolitan colored rug that was centered just right, leading a circle of Maryella’s favorite stuffed animals around its perimeter. His bulky upper body lay propped against the frame of his daughter’s day bed while his cheek appeared glued to the velvet comforter. Holy shit! Trista hurried over, forgetting her annoyance, and knelt down at his side. She avoided turning on any bright lights.
His shoulders felt heavy but limp as she tried to cajole him awake. “Jaxon, Jaxon, can you hear me?”
He moaned and she felt better that at least he was alive. Unfortunately, his only other reaction was a sudden movement that hurled his chest to his knees and snapped his head and neck following after it. Then the vomiting began. Needing to see his face, she crawled to turn on the koala lamp at Maryella’s bedside.
Jaxon looked like hell.
A hell she hadn’t seen visit her friend in a very long time. Sure, it’d made its appearances in the smarmy VIP rooms amongst wasted strangers. Or in the back doors of pubs where Jaxon had stood trying to grab a smoke, often getting in fights over something stupid in the process. But never here in his daughter’s room. A gash above his right eye leaked freshly over a patch of dried brownish blood.
Jaxon’s heavy guttural retching continued as Lucky appeared and kneeled at her side on the floor.
“What’s going on? Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything yet. I’m assuming he hit his head. But I don’t know what’s making him so sick.”
While she smoothed the hair drenched in sweat away from Jaxon’s forehead, Lucky searched around the room. He walked over to the foot of the bed and then back to the other side. And then he got down on his hands and knees and poked his arm around under the frame. He pulled something out and handed it to her.
A bottle of Brazilian sugarcane alcohol. That was empty.
“No way is this Maryella’s,” Lucky said under his breath.
Trista held the bottle up for inspection. If her brain wasn’t stunned and on lockdown, she would’ve considered busting it over Jaxon’s other eye to prove a point. She resisted the truth as long as she could but the proof lay fermented in Jaxon’s breath. He moaned and then the reflexive action of his vomiting started again.
Two more rounds of that and he finally opened his eyes. “Tris...”
“Trista, we should at least take him to a doctor.”
“No, we can’t.” Lucky could keep insisting on it but she would protect her friend to no end. And his future rights to his daughter. “Look, if you really want to help, bring a large glass of water and some wet rags. Please.”
Lucky shrugged but left and returned quickly. After cleaning Jaxon’s face, they rolled up the rancid smelling rug to be tossed somewhere far away. She’d never seen Lucky roll his eyes before and it hurt her feelings. “Look, as long as I don’t let Jaxon get dehydrated, he’ll be okay. I’ve had to do this with him before. I think I know what happened.” The profuse sweating, the body curling pain that forced him to throw everything up, the quickened heart rate. Jaxon had mixed alcohol with Antabuse only one other time. He’d thought he’d been having a heart attack, stroke combo.
“Lucky, can you just trust me here? I know what to do.”
But Jaxon and all his color loss and convulsing was making her sound like an idiot.
“I’m telling you, Trista, he looks like he’s about to stroke out. Just call 911 and let the doctors and the lawyers work it out. He’s not gonna do anyone any good if he dies here tonight.”
“No! He’s not going to die! You don’t know what you’re saying!” She realized a little too late that she’d just yelled at Lucky. He covered his mouth while his face reddened but he held his tongue.
This was a mess.
Mincing words with Lucky who would never understand the way they did things in this world was useless. In my world, sh
e thought sadly. “I’m sorry, Lucky, but I have dealt with him like this before. I know what’s wrong. He doesn’t have to go to the hospital and we’re not calling anyone. Unless he passes out. Then we’ll call.”
“Fine. I’ll be in the living room.” He turned and left. The back of his shirt was soaked from the water still in his hair.
She understood why Lucky was mad but he needed to let her handle the situation. She hated speaking to him like he was a complete outsider. What a night it had turned out to be.
She stood up and closed the door, needing to speak freely to Jaxon as soon as he seemed lucid enough. His shakes had evened out and his color was coming back. Soon, he should appear human again.
“Jaxon, you’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” She held his hand in her own.
Jaxon shifted, stretched one leg further out in front of him and tried to make like he was going to get up off the floor. But as soon as he gained two inches, he sank back down. “Shit, not good.” He croaked out each word. He rubbed his throat and grimaced.
“Well, what the hell do you expect? I can’t believe you drank. And the Antabuse. Jaxon, come on, you know better.”
“She’s gone, Trissy.” He choked through his words. “We had a fucking insane fight and she was crazy. She threw the fucking lamps at my head. God, my baby was crying and screaming and so scared. I tried to quiet her down and have her stay in here. But then Vangie came in and snatched her from me and took off. She said I’d never see her again. I spent four hours trying to call but she won’t answer. Her parents won’t tell me anything. Her sister neither. She’s gone, Trissy.” He was quietly sobbing, and still choking.
“Oh, hun. It’s gonna be okay. She’ll be back. She always comes back.”
“No, this was different. She never got physically violent like that. I mean, that last lamp she threw would have hit Maryellie if I hadn’t tucked her under me. What am I gonna do? I can’t lose my baby, Trissy. I can’t.”
He was screwed, at least temporarily. She’d go hunt Vangie down herself but getting arrested for homicide wouldn’t help their cause. Jaxon would have to wait until Vangie wanted something and came back.
Sidewalk Flower Page 17