by Stella Rhys
I really wished I didn’t ask myself these questions, because I knew every answer. It just took awhile to realize sometimes, since I’d just tricked myself for so long into believing I was a normal woman, not a girl hiding something ugly and embarrassing.
“You are so, so bad…”
I heard one of Carter’s girls lilting outside. The other one laughed over something or another, her shrill pitch bouncing off the walls. The sound woke me up enough to remind me of the way their big eyes had followed Julian the moment they entered the room with their fruity cocktails, wearing those little bikinis. They stayed smartly draped all over Carter, but after one glance at my boss, their eyes kept coming back.
I imagined them crawling all over him now, straddling him on the chaise lounge as he sat back and watched pool water drip from the ends of their hair onto his chest. I imagined that faint grin I sometimes fantasized that he reserved just for me.
Fuck, Sara, I cursed myself as I finally started out of the locker room.
I wanted to confirm that those girls were or weren’t all over him, which I hated about myself. I kept trying to care less. I kept pretending I was only here for the job.
And time after time, I failed.
“There she is.”
It was Turner who announced me, his watery, red eyes lighting up with my entrance. But to my relief, the girl in the blue bikini whispered something in his ear to draw his attention back to her. Her blonder friend was sitting on Carter’s lap, and it was probably her flag-printed bikini, but suddenly I was picturing the normal, all-American high school and college years that brought them here. In my mind, they’d never struggled to fit in. They were the picture of the kids in the movies who threw toga parties and played beer pong with red Solo cups. I was so attached to those images as a kid that thinking of them now, at twenty-seven, made me feel as if I were regressing.
Thank God for the energy that suddenly grabbed hold of me, pulling my eyes away from them, and from the mouth of the dark, vicious spiral. It was a life-saving distraction, and I knew from the strength of it that it was Julian.
Sliding my stare across the glow of the pool, my eyes met his just as he walked out of the men’s locker room.
Shirtless.
The view struck me so hard it stung, and yet my feet brought me immediately closer. Masochist.
I could hardly breathe already, my eyes stealing the oxygen from my lungs to fully take Julian in. His body was ripped but lean, every cut on his chest and abs carved to boast perfect symmetry and definition. As if he didn’t look irresistible enough, the water reflected off his skin, flickering like tiny crystals on his face and his body.
I was numb before. Now my fingers twitched to life at my sides.
I wanted to touch him. I felt like I needed to. It wasn’t fair that my first look at him like this had to come in front of the Roths. I wanted free rein to do whatever I wanted to Julian, and his tight, intense stare on me told me that perhaps he felt the same.
As if suddenly aware of how much time we didn’t have, our eyes began traveling fast over each other’s body. I felt his gaze move down my front as my own skimmed the width of his shoulders, traveling down his rock-like triceps to his forearms, till I was following those beautifully slanted lines of his hipbones. I traced the outline of his cock straining against his black swimsuit, and when I returned my eyes to his, I knew I’d been caught in the act.
His head was tilted slightly up now, his gaze heavy but wearing a delectable smirk as it watched me.
It remained on me even as Turner came up behind me and led me into the pool. His girl in the blue bikini gladly skipped over to Julian, but I didn’t flinch as I descended the tile steps into the water.
I had Julian’s stare locked so tight on me she backed up for a second.
Without saying a word, our connection was magnetic enough for her to take pause. I knew we should dial it back, especially as Turner helped me onto the surfboard, but he seemed too drunk to notice, and Carter was too preoccupied to look.
“You look good in this swimsuit,” Turner murmured as I lay on my stomach.
His eyes were on my breasts pressed up against the board. He brought my hands out from under my chin, wrapping his hand lightly around my arm as he brought it into the water. Julian’s stare burned into me from the surface of the pool as Turner then murmured close to my ear.
“Riding isn’t the hard part,” he said, his blonde hair dark now that it was wet. “Paddling out then popping up – that’s half the battle.”
I attempted the paddling on my stomach. I gave an earnest try at popping up on the board. I did okay, but I wasn’t really paying attention to myself.
Despite engaging with Turner, it felt like my attention had never truly left Julian since leaving the locker room. His had certainly not left me. In fact, his focus had only strengthened, refusing now to even acknowledge the girl. They had been talking before. He’d answered her questions politely.
Now, as he watched me dripping wet on the board, he either couldn’t hear her anymore, or he no longer cared to.
I hardly processed Turner’s hand touching the back of my thighs as he reached across my body. Gripping the edges of the board, he showed me how to sink its pointed tip into the water – to swim under the “waves” we pretended were there. I even a mustered a laugh for him after I tried my first one and got way too much water in my eyes.
Outwardly, I looked like I was enjoying Turner’s lesson.
But in reality, I was so far from being there with him it was crazy.
I was still locked in sync with Julian. I didn’t know how, considering I was in the water and he was dry on the ground, but we’d just spent the past ten minutes in silent conversation. I knew what he was saying. He’d said it to me before.
I’ve got you.
Turner had his hands on my shoulders, my arms, my back. But Julian had his eye on me, his instincts sharpened and primed for the second Turner crossed the line.
To my surprise, he didn’t.
For the next twenty minutes, Turner switched between giving me tips and telling me stories about his worst wipeouts. I laughed and listened genuinely at his recount of the time he nearly passed out over a shark sighting in Hawaii. But as it turned out, it wasn’t so much a shark as a dolphin who, according to him, “was trying to fuck with him.”
“Dolphins are smart,” I pointed out.
“And a little shitty sometimes,” Turner said. “He was circling me like he knew that’s what sharks do in the movies. Then right when I was gonna have a heart attack, he popped up with this big smile, like ‘psych, got you, bitch.’”
I cracked up. Straddling my board, I looked up at Julian, half-expecting to see him looking stiff or displeased.
He was neither.
His elbows rested on his knees, his fingers interlocked and his expression neutral till I caught his eye. Then he smiled. It was easy, content and it filled me with a calm till Turner spoke again.
“What are these?”
He tightly held my wrists with my palm facing up. I yanked my arm back before even looking at him.
“Whoa.” We’d had a few good minutes, but that shit-eating grin returned to his lips as he looked up from my scars. “Sore spot, eh?”
“That’s incredibly rude, Turner,” I said, feeling as if I were speaking to a child. He reacted like one.
“What, are you embarrassed now?” he grinned. “Don’t be. Nothing wrong with having a bit of a dark side. Lord knows I do.”
My stomach turned, and the blood drained from my face as Turner dropped his voice to say something else, but just as he started, he was interrupted.
“Roth.”
We both looked up at the same time to see Julian standing at the edge of the pool. Turner grinned like a kid who’d just gotten busted by his father.
“We’re done here, correct?” Julian said, holding his hand out to me. I went to him fast.
“She did great. Can’t fucking wait for Biar
ritz,” Turner replied. I knew his eyes fell to my ass as I hoisted myself out of the pool, because Julian shot him a look that sent a chill down my spine.
“Perfect. Have your assistants email Colin or me in the morning.”
“You got it. Hey, Sara.”
I turned around to see Turner looking at me, his head starting to bob the way it did before a drunken night turned into a blackout.
“What’s the ‘F’ stand for?” he asked.
I felt Julian pull me slightly closer. I knew he didn’t understand the question, but somehow he knew it shook me. My hands were shaking, and whatever face I was making, Turner looked thoroughly satisfied.
“Goodnight, Turner,” I finally. “Drink lots of water tonight.”
He responded with a big laugh.
“Ain’t my first rodeo, love.”
I sat on the stone sink in the locker room, my back facing the mirror.
I was still able to hear the Roths and the girls outside, laughing and splashing in the pool. Either more girls had joined, or the same ones were getting drunker and louder. Their sounds weren’t particularly pleasant, but I concentrated on them to distract myself from the pit of dread building in my stomach.
My heart was pounding, and I was paranoid that each breath I sucked in was getting shorter. But I knew what this was, so I tried talking myself down from it.
You’re not dying.
You’re okay.
Just breathe.
I needed this to fade fast, because I had no doubt Julian would somehow find his way in here soon. I didn’t know how he would get in without attracting attention – I just knew he was perfectly capable of doing so.
More importantly, I knew he wanted to.
I felt it in our wordless conversation outside, and in the hesitation he had to let me go before I stalked off to the change in the locker room.
Not that I had started changing.
My hair was almost dry at this point, and my swimsuit as well. But I still sat there mentally walking the tight rope between normal and spiral. I hadn’t chosen a side yet by the time Julian’s low voice sounded before me.
“What did Turner say to you?”
I had heard his footsteps, so I knew his voice was coming. Still, it made my heart thump.
“Not much, actually.” My whisper was shaky in a way that drew him immediately close.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?”
I paced my breathing as I stared ahead at the buttons of his shirt. He was changed again, looking as if we’d never taken that pointless intermission. I closed my eyes as I let him tip my face up toward his. When I opened them, my body tensed.
He was looking at me differently than I’d ever seen.
Instead of looking knowing and at ease, like he could see under my clothes, even my skin, Julian’s gaze was exposed as he watched me now. I’d seen it when he helped me out of the pool. I thought it was just the reflection of water then, but now I knew I saw some glint of emotion. I wasn’t sure what kind, but it was there. It filled my lungs with air and snatched my breath away at the same time.
Not the best time for that sensation.
“I can’t…” I closed my eyes again to phrase this properly. From what I learned, blurting I can’t breathe around people not well-versed with my situation was anything from startling to fucking terrifying, so I looked for better words. “I need a minute.” My words sounded like a small car driving over speed bumps. Pressing his lips into a line, Julian tipped my chin up again.
“You’re having a panic attack.”
“I know.”
“If you’ve had them before, then you know everything is going to be fine. Just breathe,” he murmured, eyeing my fingers on the edge of the counter. I was wiggling them to shake out the numbness, not that that ever helped. “Do you know what triggers these?”
“Lots of things. Haven’t had one in a long time.”
“What does it feel like right now?”
“Can’t breathe. Heart’s beating fast. Feels like I could die.” I tried to laugh off the last part, but it was hard. “I know it sounds like I’m being a drama queen. When I say that. I just – ”
“I’m informed on panic attacks. I know you’re not being dramatic, ” Julian said sternly as he reached behind me to turn on the faucet. “Stand up and turn around.”
“What?” The look I gave him made him crack a smile.
“I’m not about to fuck you in the middle of your panic attack, Sara, so don’t look at me like that. I want you to run your wrists under the cold water and see if that helps.”
I shut up and did as I was told. I winced and closed my eyes. I could hardly tell if the water was ice cold or burning hot, but to my surprise, it had me breathing again within five minutes.
It also had Julian’s gaze on my scars for about three seconds, but he said nothing, and the silence continued as I finally started moving, grabbing the dress I had worn before Turner insisted on the pool.
It felt far too quiet as I changed out of my bikini in front of Julian.
“You’ve seen everything already,” I said softly as he stood in front of me, his stare directed pointedly elsewhere.
“I’m not interested in getting hard right now, Sara.”
I didn’t question it. I had other things to ask about – namely his trick. I’d gone through dozens of approaches over the years, but Julian’s ice water trick had been by far the fastest in quelling my panic attack.
“Do you get them too?” I asked.
“What?”
“Panic attacks.”
He looked at me. “No.” His eyes traveled over my braless chest as I pulled my dress back on.
“Where’d you learn that trick?” I asked. I ran my hands through my hair but they slowed as I watched Julian’s expression darken. He turned to me, assessing my fully dressed body before nodding toward the door.
“Let’s get you home before Turner realizes we’re still here,” he said.
And that was that.
16
JULIAN
“How is everything so far, gentlemen?”
I didn’t glance up from my phone to answer the waitress. Lukas and Emmett had it covered, and I was vaguely annoyed that she’d just asked the same question thrice in ten minutes. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence when the three of us went out for lunch, but that didn’t make it any more tolerable for me.
I was also particularly on edge thanks to both the content of my texts, and the topic of conversation Lukas and Emmett had been on for far too long now. I could understand up to six minutes on the subject of home décor, but not a second more. It was a miracle that Lukas even had Emmett engaged in stories about furnishing his new home in the Hamptons with Lia. Then again, he was talking about throwing a party in it, so that offered at least some explanation.
“We should be done with everything around Lia’s birthday,” Lukas said. “So it can be a birthday-housewarming combo party.”
“Christ, you sound like you drive a mini van and shit on the refs at your kids’ Little League games.”
“That’s actually the goal at some point, minus the ref abuse,” Lukas smirked. “By the way, you should bring Sara to the party,” he added, looking pleased with the look I directed at him.
“You should stop letting your girlfriend influence the things we talk about.”
“That suggestion was actually all mine, though I won’t deny that Lia’s been rooting for you two to become some sort of thing. Which is strange, honestly, because she loves Sara, but you,” he paused, “not so much.”
“I would say the feeling is mutual, but I’d prefer you not throw a tantrum in public.”
“Good call. Any decent man would defend his woman,” Lukas said. “I’m sure you’ve been well acquainted with the feeling lately. Something tells me you don’t particularly enjoy watching the Roths slobber all over Sara.”
“You’re not incorrect.”
I didn’t enjoy it, and I definitely didn’t
enjoy whatever the fuck had happened Monday night at the pool. It was still plaguing me, and once again, I was second-guessing whether Turner Roth was in fact worth the trouble.
Abandoning this project would have been a fair idea to consider three weeks ago, when I’d yet to make progress with them. Now, with a date set for our trip to Biarritz, and the purchase finally looking serious, it was an absurd notion. If someone had told me three weeks ago that I’d consider ceasing negotiations for the sake of anyone besides my family or myself, I’d have told that person to fuck himself.
But thanks to Monday, I was having doubts.
I’d screwed up that night.
I had made sure to keep my every sense trained tightly on Sara to guarantee intervention before Turner so much as irked her. But I’d failed in that regard. I let her fall into some dark place at the end of the evening, and days later I was still working on the rage I felt over it.
Rubbing my jaw, I set my phone aside, realizing my texts had become ineloquent since I started thinking about Sara.
“Who are you texting, anyway?” Emmett asked as Lukas excused himself to take a call.
“No one.”
“Well, no one sure has you worked up,” Emmett said, eyeing my phone when it lit with a new message. I removed it from the table, but it was too late, he’d seen. “You have got to be shitting me,” he said, his entire body going slack with disbelief. I glared.
“Mind your own business, Emmett.”
“How the fuck is this not my business?” he asked, losing all humor in his voice. “I thought you were putting an official end to that chapter in your life.”
“Trust me, I am. Do you not see me trying to sell that resort?”
Emmett held onto his jaw as he shook his head and sneered. “You know, it’s fucking crazy. You’re a hard-ass ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time, and then the other one percent – ”
“Your math is off.”
“Shut up. Listen to me. I don’t ever give you shit, Julian. I’m as easy as they come. You know that,” Emmett said earnestly. “So when I say that you need to cut that crazy person off, I fucking mean it. You don’t owe anyone anything. Aside from your family – your real family – you shouldn’t have to break your back for anyone.”