No Pants Required

by Kim Karr

  “How do you know that?”

  “I see your mind working whenever you talk about local businesses around here and how they’re doing. You always have an idea about how to make them better. You see what other’s don’t. You need to move forward, Cam. Stop letting your hatred for your father or your anger toward your brother hold you back. You may not ever be able to forgive your father, but you have to forgive your brother.”

  Bold words, and they strike me like lightning.

  With a sigh, I try to explain myself without getting angry with her. “You don’t get it. That’s all I can think about. I graduated Columbia Business School four weeks after Brandon died. I was supposed to go to work for my father, but I didn’t. The grief of my brother’s death was too much. Vanessa went to work for him instead and I took some time off. I have no idea how long she had been fucking him before I found them that Thanksgiving. I never asked. She tried to tell me his grief had gotten to her and she only wanted to comfort him. His grief? His grief! Can you believe that?”

  Makayla gets on her knees and put her hands on my arms. “No, I can’t. I can’t believe you had to deal with that in the midst of grieving for your brother. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not. In fact, catching them together might have been the best thing that ever happened to me because it brought me out here. Lifeguard or not, my life is so much better here than there. Like I told you, my mother thinks I’m living in a dreamworld and that I refuse to get a real job because I want to hurt my father, and she tells me as often as she can that I’m hurting myself more than him.”

  Her hands slide down and she squeezes mine. “Do you think she might be right?”

  I put my hands on her hips and pull her close to me. “Sometimes I do. Lately, more than I used to.”

  She rests her head on my shoulder. “Maybe that means you finally believe it and are ready to do something about it.”

  “I don’t know,” I breathe out with a deep sigh. “All I know is I’m ready to stop talking about this.”

  For a long time we stay that way. Staring at each other. Unmoving.

  Having had more than enough pillow talk, I push her to the bed and lean down to kiss her knee.

  She giggles. “That tickles.”

  The sound is breathy and hoarse. I like it. Liking the way her skin feels, I glide my lips down a little to kiss her calf, then lower still to kiss the bone of her ankle.

  Her toes wiggle, and I take her foot between my hands and start to massage it.

  She rises on her elbows. “That feels so good.”

  Maneuvering my fingers, I apply a little more pressure. “The summer after college I went backpacking with my brother and my best friend, Keen Masters. Somehow we ended up on a plane to Singapore, because Keen had this idea in his head that the women in Singapore were like no others on earth.”

  Her grin lights up her whole face. “And were they?”

  I bob my head from side to side as if stretching the muscles in memory. “They were gorgeous, that was for sure, and they were small, so short and petite. But let me tell you, they had the most amazing hands. The massages they gave were definitely like no other.”

  She covers her mouth and feigns shock. “Let me guess . . . you all enjoyed your happy endings.”

  I raise both my brows and wiggle them. “That we did.”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “I give a pretty good massage, too, Mr. Waters.”

  I lick my tongue up her thigh. “I will most definitely be taking you up on that, Ms. Alexander.”

  Her nipples go tight beneath her tank top when I nip at the lace of her panties, and I know she has to be wet for me. “Anytime, day or night.” She winks.

  I meet her gaze and the air shifts. “Take your top off,” I tell her.

  Without wasting a minute, she stands and strips it off, and then hooks her thumbs in the side of her panties.

  “Stop,” I tell her, and then make a twirling motion with my finger. “Turn around.”

  She does.

  It is not a thong, but half of her ass cheeks show. So fucking hot. “Fuck, what do you call those?”

  “Brazilians,” she purrs over her shoulder. “And don’t you dare ask me to put on six-inch platforms and pretend to swing around a pole.”

  My cock rises against my belly and I stroke it lightly. “That could be fun.”

  From over her shoulder, her eyes land on my hands and her lips part. I stroke a little harder, seeing how much it excites her.

  “Sorry, no pole in here,” she says.

  “That could be arranged.”

  “I don’t think Maggie would appreciate it.”

  “Shhh,” I order. “Come here.”

  Turning around, she takes her panties off as she walks and flings them across the room before she joins me on the bed.

  I breathe her in. I breathe her out. Voice muffled against her flesh, I whisper, “Fuck me.”

  And she does.

  MAKAYLA

  YOU KNOW HOW SOMETIMES YOU meet someone you just click with?

  Yeah, for me that never happens. Not until now. Not until Cam. He and I talk about everything. No subject is off limits. It’s fun and exciting, and a little scary, too. Our views are sometimes the same, sometimes different. Debates are always up for grabs. And long discussions seem to go by in the blink of an eye.

  I know all about where he ranked on the swim team in high school and who his favorite football team is. That he likes basketball over baseball and wants to get season tickets to the Lakers this year. He’s even shared stories about his brother and sister, such as how they would trick their nanny into leaving them alone. How they used to get on the subway without their parents knowing and explore the city on their own. How they always counted on each other. Did everything together.

  In turn, he knows I graduated top in my class. That Maggie and I despised cheerleaders in high school and that I didn’t lose my virginity until I went to college. Yes, I took a lot of flak about that from Maggie. I told him about my mother dying. About Maggie’s mother taking me in and how she is like my own. And he knows that designing jewelry is my lifelong dream.

  With each waking hour, I think we learn a little more about each other.

  It’s not as if I’ve been keeping track in my date book or anything, but we’ve seen each other every day for the past twenty-two days. We haven’t spent every night together. However, the nights we didn’t stay together, Cam snuck into my bed in the early hours of the morning to wake me up before he went to work. All I can say is the sex is fantastic. Varied. Wild. Crazy. Subdued. Romantic. Hot. The list goes on and on. And yes, don’t shoot me, but I made a list of adjectives to describe it.

  Then there are his text messages. Like clockwork, he texts me during the day when he’s on break—funny texts, dirty texts, downright pornographic texts sometimes. They always make me laugh and sometimes make me blush.

  I try to be as witty as I can, but when it comes right down to it, I’m just not as funny as he is.

  Shhh . . . don’t tell him that.

  Cam goes back to New York tomorrow for his sister’s graduation. He’ll be gone a week, and I think I might miss him.

  It’s odd to think a guy I haven’t known that long already means so much to me.

  Honestly, I’ve tried not to think about it too much. I have a tendency to overthink everything and I refuse to overthink us.

  As I fit my key into my door, a text goes off from my phone.

  Cam: I’m off for lunch at 1. Want to meet me?

  Me: Just got home. Let me pick something up and we can have a picnic. Where should I meet you?

  Cam: At the main lifeguard tower. Grab the book. It’s on my nightstand right next to the studded condoms. Feel free to bring one of those along too. Gabe will have nothing on me.

  Me: Keep dreaming

  Taking my time, I go inside and yank my dress clothes off so that I can slip into something more comfortable and maybe a little sexier. A
strapless sundress is perfect. I pull my hair back and grab a pair of flip-flops. Much better.

  I’d spent the morning calling on boutiques with my portfolio to try to place my designs in their stores. Again, no bites.

  Turns out I couldn’t live without a plan. It just isn’t me. Free love. That I can do. Free bird? Not so much.

  List complete or not, I think I know who I am. The same old Makayla—just an improved version. And I like who she is.

  Still, I need a plan. The sales at the surf shops aren’t taking off quite the way Derek and Andre had projected. The prices are too high, and there is no way to lower them and still make a decent profit without compromising on quality. And that I’m not willing to do. Andre and I have gone round and round about it. He’s giving it two more weeks. Soon, I’m certain I’ll be pulling my designs out of his stores.

  Cam and Brooklyn hide their spare key under the front mat. How clichéd is that? But hey, it works out when I need to get inside.

  Unlocking the door, I hurry through the kitchen and stop when I see a gift box on the table.

  Now, we all know curiosity killed the cat and I should know better, but still I can’t resist, and I lift the lid slightly. There’s something silver and shiny inside and it gleams in the sunlight. Now I have to know what it is.

  Lid off, I stare down at it, almost studying it, completely uncertain what it is. It’s one solid piece of metal with three beads on the end and a curved handle. There’s a card, so I pick it up. It reads, “Cam, here’s a fun wand, which can be used vaginally and anally, not necessarily in that order. Bring it with you when you come to New York and stop by. No strings attached. Promise. Can’t wait to see you. Love, Vanessa.”

  Like a hot potato, I drop it into the box and wish I’d never even looked inside. Now, I not only have the picture in my mind of how it works, but of Megan with a B using it in front of Cam to lure him back.

  Awesome. Just awesome.

  Rushing from the room, I run to his. Taking a breath, I calm myself down. I have nothing to worry about. He’s never given me cause in the least to fret over Megan with B. Just because she hung out with him and his brother all the time and they share memories of Brandon doesn’t mean he wants to fuck her. Just because I saw him give in to her once doesn’t mean he will again.

  Convinced I’m right, I grab the book and stare at the condom package with a smile. Cam bought a whole bunch of silly ones, but that one is by far the funniest. Small silver studs coat the outside with one large one at the end. It is meant to stimulate the feeling of a piercing when inside me. So far, I have refused that one, but who knows, I might decide on it tonight.

  Feeling better, I leave, trying not to think about the fun wand—in all its shininess and the angles of pleasure it promises to bring. Cam and I don’t need toys like that to find our pleasure.

  Excited to be driving my first automobile, I hop into my bright blue Jeep. I had narrowed it down to either the two-door Jeep, smaller than Cam’s, or a Ford Focus. Horrified at the idea of me driving anything but a car without a roof in a beach town, Cam talked me into the Jeep. The color wasn’t his favorite. Girly. Bold. It suited the new me perfectly.

  Stopping at the only sandwich shop in Laguna Beach that offers more than gluten-free bread, I order two ham-and-Swiss-on-whole-wheat sandwiches, a bag of veggie chips (because they didn’t offer real potato chips), and two waters. Painting a smile on my face while still dwelling on what he was going to do with that present, I head to the beach. Once I park my car, I go in search of him, trying not to think about the kind of sex life he had with Vanessa. Whereas Sebastian and I were vanilla all the way, were he and Megan with a B chocolate?

  Oh, God, I’m stressing.

  His shirt off and foot propped up, I spot his long, lean body immediately. He’s standing outside the main lifeguard tower, which strangely enough is not used as a tower anymore because of its age. Yet it remains firmly planted on Laguna because it is iconic. At least that is what Cam has told me.

  From afar, I watch him stretch and move. Always fascinated by the lines of his body and its dips and hollows, I wonder if I freeze right here, how long I can watch him before he looks my way.

  Within seconds, he turns my way with a smile so wide and bright and genuine that I want to kiss his face off. I want to run my hands through that mess of his hair and smooth my fingertips over those brows and trace the curves of his ears with my tongue. I want to eat him up like the juiciest of apples and let him drip down my hand, my wrist, my arm, and then lick him all up.

  Instead, Megan with B is all I can see, that image from the night in the club when she licked him all up, and all I can muster is the barest hint of a smile. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” He scoops me up and twirls me around, ignoring or not noticing my standoffish behavior.

  “You look . . . great,” he says as he lowers me to the ground.

  I don’t respond. I look at the picnic basket I packed in my hand instead, though honestly, I don’t care if we eat at all.

  “I snagged us a cabana for the next hour,” he tells me, pointing to one about five huts over.

  The solicitous hand at the small of my back as he takes the basket from me makes my knees go weak.

  “So I had this kid near my tower this morning who kept pretending to drown . . .”

  Telling each other about our days is always something I look forward to, but right now all the words seem to blend together. Step-by-step, side-by-side in the sand, I feel like I might burst if I don’t ask him about what I saw.

  Inside the cabana there is a television, a couch, a couple of chairs, and a minibar. It’s pretty nice, I have to say. Cam sets the basket on a table in front of the couch and turns to me with a frown. “Are you mad at me?”

  “Should I be?” I press my lips together and rub my tongue slowly on the inside of my teeth to keep my voice low.

  “Let’s see, as far as I know, nothing has happened since I ate you for breakfast,” he says, taking my arms with his rough, callused hands and making me shiver.

  That hint of a smile on my lips makes me angrier. Why does he always do that to me—make me laugh in any situation, even when I don’t want to?

  “Are you on the rag?” he asks. “Because if you are, you could have warned me. PMS sometimes turns women into another being. My sister is always a real bitch during that time, so I know how to deal with it.”

  My mouth falls open and the words just fly out. “No, I do not have my period. But did you know how to deal with Vanessa when she was on the rag?”

  He blinks a few times and then I think it hits him. “You looked in the box on my kitchen table, didn’t you?”

  I shrug. “I might have.”

  He laughs. He actually laughs.

  I want to punch him. Instead I step back.

  Cam grabs me and holds me tight. “Vanessa has been sending me sex toys since I moved here, like her being provocative would woo me.”

  “And what, you hold on to them?”

  He laughs again. “No; in the past, I’d find a girl and use them with her—you know, as a ‘fuck you’ to Vanessa. But this time, I was just going to throw it away until Brooklyn stopped me. He wanted it to play some joke on his friend Sasha.”

  My whole body relaxes. “Oh,” is all I can say.

  That laughter takes over the small space and he pulls me flush to his body. “Are you jealous?”

  I push away. “No, should I be?”

  Unwavering, he tugs me back. “No, I only want you,” he whispers in my ear as he licks around it. “I won’t even be seeing her this week since my sister can’t stand her. But even if I do, you have nothing to worry about.”

  Cam’s confession fills me and I feel stupid for being jealous over a woman who hurt him so badly. “I’m sorry,” I offer, “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

  His lips find mine. “Baby, green suits you, but if you’re feeling guilty, I think I can come up with a good way for you to make it up to me.�
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  Dying to hear this, I lean back. “And what would that be?”

  He winks at me. “How about we talk about it after lunch.” And then he opens the picnic basket.

  Once the food is set out, we sit beside each other on the couch and go about eating. I unwrap my sandwich and shake a little mustard pack on it. Cam watches me with keen interest. I give him a smile, and he licks his lips before he starts chewing his sandwich. I sip my water. Swallow. He takes a bite of a chip and makes a face. That breaks our comfortable silence.

  “They taste like cardboard,” he says.

  “I know. But it was either that or kale salad.”

  He shivers and takes another bite. “I’ll stick with the cardboard.”

  After that, things return to normal between us and I tell him about my morning. Slight detour, but we’re back on track.

  We finish our food and Cam grabs the book. “Book club time.” He grins and stretches out on the cushion that isn’t exactly as soft as a couch, but better than the sand we laid on last week when we did this. It’s taking a while to finish this book because we keep getting distracted.

  I squeeze in between him and the back of the outdoor furniture and rest my chin on his bare chest. Unable to stop myself, my gaze lowers to his body. To his abs, which are smooth and so ripped I have to trace the indentations with a finger. His legs are solid muscle, and I push one of my legs between his just to feel his strength against me.

  My eyes lifts to his nipple right beside me and I think about how much he likes it when I bite him there, then to his tan neck, thick and strong, his Adam’s apple sexy as he speaks in that deep voice.

  “Makayla.” He slaps my ass.

  I meet his gray gaze.

  “You ready?” He laughs as if knowing exactly what I’m thinking.

  “Ready.” I smile up at him and close my eyes.

  With his arm outstretched and the book over our bodies, that caramel voice is clear and loud. “‘It was midsummer. The halfway mark. Summer lay in the center of her bed, looking at both men. She knew their bodies as well as she knew her own. Gabe was taller than Owen and had ink on his pale skin, whereas Owen was tan and had none. Gabe had come to Summer with nipple rings, and his recent gift to her of a piercing on his cock brought endless pleasure.’” Cam pauses.