He fiddles with a coaster, tearing the edges off it. I sense he wants to talk about something. “Did Lenic hurt you?" He studies me closely.
I take a sip of my wine. "You already asked me that," I tell him with a gentle smile, "and my answer is still the same. No. It was nothing like that."
West shoots me a tired sort of disapproving parental look that makes me chuckle. "Why was he there? Are you two—?"
“No,” I snort into my wine. West is overly protective of me. Now that Grandpa Joe has gone, I don’t mind so much. It is nice to have someone watch out for me.
I glance at him, his blue eyes watching me warily, but there is something else in his eyes also. “Then what was going on?”
I shrug. "It’s a long story.” I pour more wine into my glass and take a sip. “So. What’s the deal with you and Lenic?”
His brow creases and he polishes off his hot coffee. Twirling the mug in his hand, he lets out a heavy exhale. When his gaze meets mine, he smiles, but it doesn’t warm his features. An uneasy feeling starts to spread through my stomach. There is something like festering rage bubbling away in his eyes.
He lifts a shoulder. “You know I’m fighting him in the semi-finals. That’s all,” he says sternly, as if that is that and there is no other possible answer.
“I know, but that looked like more than boxing rivalry. Did something happen between you two?”
The crease in his brow deepens. “Leave it, Flick.” From his tone, I can tell he doesn’t want to discuss the subject further. Another person might have probed deeper, but I respect him enough not to push.
We spend the rest of the night drinking and reminiscing on the good old times we shared with Grandpa Joe. But the entire night I can’t shake off that nagging voice inside my head, the one that keeps swirling thoughts around about West and Lenic. Whatever this drama is between them, it is more than boxing rivalry.
If West won’t tell me, then there is only one other person who can.
7
“THERE ARE OTHER WAYS TO WAKE A MAN.”
LENIC
PUSHING OPEN THE creaky wooden gate, I cut right along the line of trees, passing Lenic’s black Lexus, and head down the path towards the boat home.
Finishing off my hot cross bun, I check my channel on my mobile phone. The live streaming video has reached over thirteen million hits in the last week, the number of views ticking up each minute.
I pondered for a day or two on whether or not our little showdown should be taken down. On one hand, it is a tad humiliating, but on the other good hand, a leading celebrity gossip magazine wants to sponsor JUICED. In addition, I created The Tempest playlist, which is fast becoming our most popular one.
Of course, as soon as Lenic stormed out of the studio, I edited the video and blurred out the necessary ‘part’ before someone copied it, and ensuring it stayed kosher within the website guidelines.
Reaching Lenic’s boat, my stomach turns over and over in excitement, as it always does when he is near. I do an external audit using my Mirror app, and quickly sweep a hand down my short white skirt, and check there are no crumbs down my blue-and-white striped crop top.
Climbing over onto the deck, I rap my knuckles on the door. He doesn’t answer and I don’t hear any footsteps thumping through the boat, either. I check my phone. It is nine o’clock in the morning. Maybe he isn’t in. I glance at the handle and shrug, shaking my head when it opens up in my hand.
Does he think he is such a badass that he doesn’t need to secure his home? Fair enough. There isn’t much crime in Stonebrook. It is a quiet coastal town, the kind of place you can pass through without noticing its existence. And I don’t think anyone is stupid enough to break into Lenic’s boat.
Quietly, I head through to the living room, finding it empty. His bedroom door is cracked open by an inch, and when I peek through, I see a leg extended out from underneath a black sheet on the bed. He is sleeping naked. And from what I can see, the sheet only partially covers his body. Dirty place number 669 opens up in my mind and it is beautiful. His sleeping face is a fresh fall of snow and I want to make a footprint.
A sex print.
I feel like a sinful angel entering the gates of Heaven when I glance at his bare arse. I am a little bit in love with it. It is huge, but solid, like you could smack it with a two-by-four and nothing would move or jiggle.
I should cover him up. The digital clock on his nightstand ticks as another minute goes by. Five minutes in and I am still staring at his bare arse, fighting back the temptation to trail my tongue over it. Eventually, I slide my fingers gently over the sheet and slide it over his arse, feeling like I am committing some sort of crime to women everywhere.
I sit on the bed, smoothing my hands over the crisp bed sheet, and consider my options since Lenic doesn’t appear to be waking up any time soon. I think about going home and calling later. I peer down at my nautical-styled outfit. I took two hours trying to look nice and I look … bloody gorgeous. Just one of those days. Clear skin. New shoes. Little bit sexy. I look too good to end it here.
I think about giving him a Felicity Special wake-up call. The part of me that would never, ever do such a thing, manages to get dominion over my internal whore and I remain rooted to the spot.
I dig out the clothes he lent us the night we stayed over from my tote bag and place them on his bed. He turns on his front, the sheet maintaining his modesty, unfortunately, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Impatient to get answers, I decide to wake him up.
“Lenic?” He doesn’t stir.
I glance over at the glass of water on his bedside table. A wicked grin spreads across my face as I pick up the glass and head into the bathroom. I fill it all the way up with water from the little sink and carry it back to his bedroom. At first I flick a few drops and hit his forehead. He scrunches his eyes tight and groans, shifting in his bed. I increase the flow. It dribbles over his forehead, reaching his hairline, running into his eyes, and down his nose and to his mouth, until he lurches upright, sputtering.
"The hell?" If he was functionally awake the protest would have carried more threat, but the force is lost by the groggy break in his voice. He runs his hands through his wet hair, slicking it to his head, and wipes his face with the back of his arm. "What the hell?” he growls. “What’d you do that for?"
I stand by his bed, coolly observant, the cup of water still in hand. "You weren’t waking up," I put simply.
“There are other ways to wake a man."
I watch Lenic strip the wet pillowcase from the pillow. “I should have given you the special,” I mumble under my breath.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
He looks at me. “What’s worrying me here … is you appear to be sober.”
"I assure you, you weren't responding to voice and shoves,” I lie. “And this glass was right here." I shrug innocently.
He shoots me a sideways glance. “I didn’t hear you. I was sleeping,” he grits out, sitting on the edge of his bed expectantly.
Angry Lenic is beautiful.
“Are you saying I didn’t try?” I mock offense.
“I’m beginning to suspect it, now, yeah. Pretty sure I drank most of that water last night … What if I was thinking?”
My lips curl upwards, cognizant to the double meaning. “I would get my camera and film it. My viewers would love—”
He gets out of bed.
Towering over me, goose bumps pinch all over my body. “Do you think a lot about me thinking?” His voice is raspy, commanding me to speak the truth or be punished. I freeze, overcome with nervousness.
I bite my lip as my gaze roams up his muscular legs, pausing at his gorgeous penis. I let myself have a good long look before I continue my personal porn moment, and use every indentation in his abs as a roadmap to his chest.
His eyes centre on mine. “Like what you see?”
I softly clear my dry throat. “No,” I say, a little too quickly.
“I mean yes. It’s good.”
It’s good?
His eyes rake over my form and I stagger under his gaze. “I definitely like what I see.” He fingers the end of my top. “Is this for my benefit?” His mouth twitches, his gaze becoming more assessing. “Because it’s doing what I know you want it to do.” I shake my head, and then nod slightly.
He is in control of me.
And I am getting off on it.
He slowly trails one finger down my neck and stops just short of my cleavage. My cheeks flush and I feel like a born-again virgin as arousal swarms through my veins and settles between my legs. His gaze fixes me in place, and then he leans in, our lips close enough to share more than words.
I let myself feel that body, so warm and visceral, move above mine, let it grind against me and fill me up with want and passion and lust.
I wait for him to kiss me.
My breath hitches in my throat, and my eyes shut in longing, my lips parting just a little. The slightest stirring of his heated breath touches my lips, and my body begs for his physical contact.
Every second feels like an eternity, and the suspense of his touch intensifies the heat between my legs and causes my heart to thunder in my ears. It burns me up just thinking about it. The heat of his mouth, his lips, the rush of his body touching mine, the naked thrill of his skin … I don’t know how long I stand, waiting, licking my lower lip, moaning a little. This is not the reason why I came here, but he is a virtuoso in sexual dominance.
I can’t deny him.
“Felicity…” My eyes flutter open, ready for his lips, his taste. I swallow hard, but he doesn’t kiss me. My tease has nothing on his, and I don’t understand why he is doing this to me now. He damn well knows how addicted I am to his body — he sure as hell doesn’t have to use it against me in every damned circumstance. “Can I put some clothes on?”
I realise I am standing in front of his closet.
I close my mouth, biting my lip. I can tell by his deep dimples he is amused at my expense. I flush like the virgin I am becoming.
“Yes. Yes, of course … Go ahead and cover it. I mean, cover your … It’s quite hot outside…”
I brush past his faultless body to give him access to his damn closet. Stifling yet another shiver, I watch him grab a pair of jeans from a hanger.
His face alone could give me an orgasm, I think, while I watch him pull on a pair of briefs and his jeans, and I find myself divided. Do I spend time looking at his unrivalled upper body? Or do I bask in the glory of his this-was-made-for-Felicity-to-sit-on face? In all honestly, as much as I love his gorgeous biceps and his eight-pack, his face wins every time.
“Is this holy water?” he asks, dipping his fingers into the glass I am holding and flicks water on my face.
I back up and laugh. “Holy water?”
“You’re a vampire, Felicity. Once you’re in, you think you can come in any time."
I smile. “And I’m surprised you’re still in bed. I expected you to be awake for four a.m. press-ups.”
“Five a.m. Cross upped my training.” He lands on the palms of his hands and starts doing press-ups. I think about him doing a press-me instead. Press me down and fuck me. “Last night felt like a goddamn war zone. I was trying to clock in some much needed sleep.” He switches to one-hand press-ups. He is a slave to his routines and I am all for it. The sight of every single sinew, muscle, and vein straining in his arms, literally cause me to feel faint.
He gets up, rolls his wrists, and slides on his silver Rolex watch before vacating the room. Setting the glass down, there is a bounce in my step as I follow his trail, chewing on my bottom lip as I get a full view of how those damn jeans hug his sensational arse.
When he enters the bathroom and shuts the door, I amble around the living room, noticing something I missed the first time I was here. No photographs of family or friends hang on the walls or sit on end tables.
How strange...
My phone pings with a text message from Delphine.
Delphine: Get out of his boat. x
She must have read the note I left her.
Me: I’d rather he put his big boat in me ;) x
Delphine: TMI. X
Me: What girl doesn’t love to play with hot seamen? x
Delphine: Behave. Don’t forget to buy milk x
I smile to myself, picking up the Bloke magazine on the table by the sofa, and leaf back and forth through it. A minute later, Lenic comes out looking so damn handsome in a black collar shirt that strains against his muscles.
I glance back at the magazine in my hands and laugh when I read out the article heading, “‘Get to know your penis.’” I shoot him a look. “Lenic.” I chuckle softly.
He grunts. “I read it for the nutrition and fitness guides, alright.”
“Sure…”
Thanking and declining my box of hot cross buns, because they don’t meet his dietary requirements and daily macro goals, he kindly offers to make me breakfast. I also decline his offer, opting to eat something sugary instead of ‘proper’ food, like I always do.
It is a beautiful Sunday morning so we sit outside to eat breakfast on the deck. I kick off my sandals and glance across at him. “You are the only guy to have made me breakfast that I didn’t have to sleep with first.” He makes a non-committal grunt and clenches his jaw with jealousy.
Moving the conversation on, I tell him about the brand-new Mini Cooper I am buying in light of my recent success. His response is fair. “Feels like you’re whoring me out and earning cash for it. And I’m not benefiting.” He chugs down his protein shake.
“My grandpa told me once that you shouldn’t go through life worrying about money. It’s not good for your health.”
“You profiting from my humiliation isn’t good for my health.”
I smile. “Do you really want payment?”
His lips form an amused slant, his eyes twinkling with something dirty. “Maybe.”
I will pay you in so many different ways, Lenic, in so many different positions.
After we finish our breakfast over light conversation, he brings up two mugs of hot coffee, and I fish into my tote bag for my bag of sugar.
He shoots me a look as he sits down. “You’re kidding, right?”
I exhale loudly. “Last time I stayed at Hotel Le Boat, you only had something called Shit—”
“Stevia.”
“—to sweeten my coffee.” I grimace at the memory. “I’m grateful for everything you did, but honestly, it tasted like the sour intent of you trying to kill me.”
“It’s better for you than that processed stuff.” He points at my white-powdered drug. “You seem to have an addiction to sugar. It’ll harm your body.”
“My body looks good, doesn’t it?”
He inspects me, then nods. “Something tells me, you know how good you look.” I smile at his unerring observation. “Still. It’s more to do with good health than good looks.”
“You are lost in all this sky and water, Lenic.” He gives me a long look, trying to make sense of what I just said. “It is bad for me, yes, but it’s beautiful.” I pour my usual three heaped teaspoons of sugar into my coffee and stir it with the spoon. “The way I figure it, it’s our vices that make getting out of bed worth it. You shouldn’t forget to take the time out to enjoy the beauty in life. Sugar-based drinks and desserts are what I enjoy, so I eat them pretty much all of the time instead of what I’m supposed to eat. What’s the point in living if you don’t allow yourself to enjoy … living?”
He settles back into his seat, his eyes working me over as if in contemplation. He chugs his coffee down, eyeing me with every swallow. The coffee is extremely hot. Any other person would scold their mouths. Even the way he drinks hot coffee is sexy.
“You worked hard to get where you are?” he asks. “With your online video … career thing.”
“It really does
baffle you how I make a living, doesn’t it?” He nods, smiling. “I worked my fingers to the bone. My grandpa told me, ‘The world is your oyster. Step up and take your pearl.’ So I did. I love my life. I love getting out of bed. I love the work I do. I love that I’m not in a 9-5 job serving coffee to a man or woman who are old enough to serve it themselves. How many people can say the same?”
“Not many.”
“And it isn’t luck. People assume I’m lucky to do what I do. I’m not. And it isn’t.”
“That’s something we can agree on.”
“You agree? With me?” My surprise must show on my face.
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “A miracle, huh?” He leans forwards in his chair. “I see it like this: luck doesn’t get in the ring and fight hard to win that belt. I do.”
“Exactly.” I cross my legs and lean forwards. “And how did you get there?”
“Hard graft. Determination. A little faith.”
I nod my head in agreement. “I believe if you truly want something, and you’re willing to do whatever it takes, you can achieve the impossible.”
I smile wide, the salty breeze ruffling my hair a little. It feels good not to clash with him for once, and I really do feel passionately about this subject. “It wasn’t easy, but Delphine and I worked our cute little butts off to get where we are today. I never take it for granted though. I owe a lot of it to my loyal subscribers. They’re the best.”
“You like being in the public eye?”
“Yes, I do. I think I was born to be in front of the camera.” I flash him a winning smile. “It’s only fair I share this beautiful face to the world, right?”
“That’s very commendable,” he chuckles.
“I should be asking you the same thing.”
The Tempest Page 9