Wet: Part 2

by Rivera, S. Jackson

  She spun around and forced a smile, but her voice sounded a little too animated. “I’m fine. I told you, he just took me by surprise. It’s just a reflex.”

  “A reflex reaction to being strangled by an axe murderer, maybe—not getting surprise hug bombed by a dopey friend.”

  She smiled and slid her arms around his waist, looking up at him. He watched her warily, but carefully returned her embrace. He felt her cringe, even though she tried so hard not to. Her body still trembled.

  “Don’t worry about me . . . dad.”

  He glared at her with a pretend stern expression for her comment, but he couldn’t help his concern.

  “Come on. You know I have issues with abrupt physical contact. Taylor just really surprised me. That’s all.”

  oOo

  They grabbed their food and sat down with the others to eat.

  “I’m sorry, Rhees. I didn’t know,” Taylor apologized.

  “That I’d go bat-crap crazy on you?” Rhees laughed. “I’m the one who owes you an apology.”

  “Look, I just wanted to show my appreciation for making the zip line better. If it weren’t for you, Liz wouldn’t be here.” No one could follow Taylor’s logic so he continued. “Liz kept braking the whole way.”

  Liz interjected, “I didn’t brake that much. They said I was too light.”

  “They said people who didn’t weigh much didn’t need to brake every three seconds. She stalled out mid-line and the attendant had to go get her, hand over hand. I was so embarrassed.” Taylor rolled his eyes at Liz. “The second time it happened, I was next in line and already hooked up. They were just about to let me go when they realized she’d over-braked . . . again. They told me to hold up until they could get her, but I didn’t wait. I jumped off the platform and went. When I reached her on the line, I did the hand over hand thing and got her to the next platform.” He looked so proud of himself. “I’ve always wanted to do that.

  “The attendants at the next station said they couldn’t send her alone anymore.” Taylor gave Liz a sideways glance. “They decided they’d have to get her down, tandem style, but they were short-handed and argued about how they were going to manage being down yet another man. I volunteered, and they actually agreed.” His tone grew more and more excited, and he used more and more spicy words as he explained what happened. “Who would have thought that extra hundred and twenty pounds would make you go so much faster? We were ska-ree-ming down those lines, and I have Rheesy to thank for the most exciting zip line I’ve done since the first time.”

  “I do not weigh a hundred and twenty pounds.” Liz sounded offended. “And I didn’t brake every three seconds.” She smiled sheepishly. “It was more like every five, at the most. And Taylor didn’t brake, at all, ever! I was scared to death the whole time.”

  “You survived. I would never let anything happen to you.” Taylor leaned over and gave her a big kiss. “I vote we bring the girls every year, from now on. Tandem’s the way to go. WOO!” he howled like a banshee.

  “No way, I’m never doing this again. This was the most miserable experience I’ve ever had in my life.” Ashley crossed her arms and glared at David with a scowl on her face.

  The three other men stared at him too, watching to see how he would handle his date. None of them ever brought the same girl to Testosterfest twice, but they’d started to suspect David and Ashley might be a real couple—to their dismay. They all hated her negativity.

  “She’s pretty loose with the way she categorizes her misery. Hasn’t everything so far been the most miserable thing she’s ever done . . . in her life?” Bryce whispered to Paul. Paul covered his mouth to hide his smirk.

  “Okay, don’t worry, Sweetheart. You’ll never have to do this again. This was the worst experience I’ve ever had too. Next year, I’m bringing someone else,” David said as he kissed Ashley’s cheek, showing the guys he did have a spine. Ashley’s mouth dropped open and she glared at him again. He ignored her as he and the guys all turned their attention to Paul and Rhees, wondering what Paul would have to say about bringing Rhees next year.

  Paul grinned and glanced down, his shy, embarrassed look. He shrugged his shoulders before he stood. “I think we should go find our shuttle back to the beach house.”

  Chapter 18

  That night, their last at the beach house, Rhees decided they’d roast hot dogs over a fire on the beach for dinner. Everyone except Ashley loved the idea, so David told her to stay inside, that he didn’t need her to have fun. She joined them after all.

  “Ash-bitch only wants more opportunity to give Davey the cold shoulder,” Paul said in Rhees’ ear with a chuckle.

  After dinner, everyone sat on blankets around the fire, talking and drinking.

  “I’m getting another beer. Do you want a refill? Bourbon, right?” Rhees asked as she stood, brushing any errant sand from her backside and reaching for Paul’s glass.

  “Yeah.” He slipped her his glass. He looked up at her with a smile. He felt his right eye do its almost wink thing and it sounded like a good idea so he winked at her with his left. “I’ll have my . . . I’ve lost track of which refill this will be.” He chuckled.

  He’d been drinking considerably less since he’d started sleeping in the same bed with Rhees, but he’d drunk more that week with his buddies than he had the past four and a half months combined.

  When Rhees sat back down with their drinks, she surprised him by slipping between his legs with her back to him, cuddling up close and resting her head against his neck. He didn’t expect the affection after the way she’d freaked out earlier.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, wanting to make sure.

  “Of course.” She turned back to look up at him and smiled.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “I’ve had four beers since we came out to the beach. This is my fifth.” She took a swig of the beer she just got. “Compared to the last time I got drunk, I hardly feel it at all.”

  “Compared to last time? You mean the dance contest? Rhees, that’s not a good standard to be gauging by.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Good.” He enveloped her in his arms, careful not to spill his drink on her, wrapping them around her and giving her a squeeze. She didn’t cringe or shy away, but he still wasn’t convinced she hadn’t been affected by Taylor’s earlier stunt. He wished she’d stop pretending to be so resilient and finally confide in him why she kept it all locked up so tight, but then again, he’d never been gabby about his own past.

  He nuzzled his nose through her hair, found her ear and nipped it with his teeth, his own intoxication making him bite harder than he’d intended.

  “Ow.” She turned to glare at him, not believing he would do it, but he grinned devilishly and tried to do it again. She turned far enough away to make him miss, but he snapped his teeth after her.

  “Oh my gosh. What’s wrong with you tonight?” She stared for a second. “I shouldn’t have gotten you that refill after all, you’re drunk enough.”

  “And you would be correct.” His grin didn’t change. He clicked his teeth together again a couple of times, making her giggle.

  Taylor stood, pulling Liz up with him. “Excuse us, I’m ready to make out with my girl, but you’re all a bunch of pervs, so we’re heading over there.” He pointed to a spot fifty feet away. “For a little privacy.” He reached down, grabbed the blanket they’d been sitting on, shook the sand off and tossed Liz over his shoulder. He gave his friends an accentuated, suggestive wink and carried Liz, who didn’t seem to mind, away.

  “Taylor, you always have the best ideas.” Bryce stood, and he and Jeannie followed their lead, scampering off to their own spot just beyond the light of the fire.

  Paul and David watched each other across the fire while Paul sipped on his drink. The two men, wh
o’d been friends most of their lives, stared each other down. Of the four, for the first time since they’d started the Testosterfest tradition their senior year of high school, they’d both brought girls they actually cared about. Based on what David had said to Ashley that day, and the cold shoulder she’d given him the rest of the afternoon, of the four, Paul assumed they were also the only two who weren’t going to be getting any that night—but David didn’t have to know that.

  Paul roared out in laughter, and with a move designed to tell David that Ashley was the worst date ever; he fell onto his back, pulling Rhees down with him. She gasped at the unexpected movement and spilled some of her beer on his chest. He didn’t care.

  He rolled so he leaned over her, almost on top of her but, he hoped, not enough to scare her. He took the nearly full bottle from her hand and tossed it away from them.

  “You ready?” he asked, answering her questioning expression, watching her through narrowed eyelids.

  “Ready? For what?” Rhees studied him warily.

  The tip of his tongue flicked out, wetting his entire top lip at once before he bit the one on the bottom. The salacious smile that creeped across his face made his right eye half-wink before he flashed his brows up and then down. He didn’t break eye contact, fighting the urge to do so. He could only hope Claire was right, that Rhees couldn’t really see his dark, sinful soul when she looked into his eyes the way she did at that moment.

  He leaned in slowly, and softly brushed his lips over hers. She didn’t close her eyes, neither did he.

  “Mm,” he grunted. She giggled, finally breaking the eye contact.

  “Is it just you, or is it normal for people to grunt or moan every time they kiss?”

  “I don’t grunt or moan every time.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to exaggerate.” Her apology sounded sincere. “Let me try again. Is it just you, or is it normal for people to grunt or moan almost every time they kiss?” A coy grin formed on her face, and she started imitating his grunt in short staccato bursts. “Mm! Mm! Mm!”

  He used his body to remind her how he had her pinned, and she pretended to try to get away, but he held her. When she stopped fighting him, he relaxed, but then she tried to wriggle away again. He wasn’t about to let her go.

  “I only make that sound when I kiss you.” He kissed her all over her face and neck, purposely smacking his lips, grunting, and moaning as obnoxiously as he could while she squealed.

  Somewhere along the line, his teasing kisses turned serious and without realizing the transition, they were making out—she kissed him back as passionately as he kissed her. He stopped, only briefly when she moaned, he had to see her, but it only incited him more.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered and moved a little farther on top of her, hooking his leg around hers to pull her closer. She still didn’t protest.

  Paul was getting close. It’d been a long time—a very long time. He wanted more. He ground himself against her and used his thigh to work his way between her legs. The warm pressure made him groan against her lips.

  Rhees slipped back to reality. She didn’t want to be in reality. For the first time in her life, she’d let go and she wanted to let go again, finish what they’d started. She tried. She focused on Paul’s mouth. She loved his lips on her, his tongue, his velvety tongue felt like dessert or like she was dessert and he had a sweet tooth. She’d liked it, but nothing helped, she couldn’t turn her head off and give in again. The grinding against her hips, while a moment ago felt so good, now it felt like . . . a show.

  She’d forgotten about being on the beach with everyone else. She tried to look around between Paul’s ongoing kisses. He skimmed his mouth from her lips to her jaw, neck and ears, back to her lips, kissing and licking while his warm hands caressed her and made her tingle. She gasped, remembering David and Ashley sitting next to the fire when Paul ambushed her, she looked back to where they’d been. Her body slacked with relief to see they’d slinked off, but she couldn’t get her brain to shut off and just let herself enjoy Paul again.

  Paul finally noticed Rhees wasn’t actively participating anymore and rolled off of her, flopping onto his back in a barely disciplined resignation.

  “God, woman! You’re going to give me blue balls, again.”

  “Blue balls?”

  His amorous advance had started as a means to poke fun at David, show him yet another reason Ashley wasn’t someone he wanted to wind up with, but Paul never expected Rhees to let him take it so far. She should have objected, cringed, freaked out. He’d pushed her aggressively, farther and farther and she’d let him. He’d wanted her for so long—to finally feel her give in to him that way–he’d forgotten his promise.

  “Never mind.” He let out a long sigh, frustrated with his still raging body and with himself, thankful she did finally put on the brakes. He wouldn’t have. He cursed at the reminder of what a selfish bastard he was. “You should go up to bed. I’m going to sleep on the beach tonight.”

  “But you haven’t slept in the bed once.”

  “You’re welcome!” He flashed her with wide, duh eyes. It came out a little more harshly than he wished, making the anger he felt with himself deepen. He shouldn’t have let things go so far. Still surprised she’d let him, he hated himself for taking what she’d given. If she wasn’t going to stop him, he should have been the one to do it, but he wasn’t himself, or worse—he was more himself than he cared to be.

  The week had been hard on him. He’d been torn, trying to find a balance between being the Paul his buddies knew and expected, and the Paul he’d become for Rhees—the two conflicted with each other. He scrubbed his hands over his face. He was tired, worried about her, drunk, and despite the guilt he felt about what had just happened, he still wanted her.

  “I didn’t say thank you.” Her response sounded almost as harsh. She rolled, leaning over him. “Tell me, what are blue balls?”

  He groaned out a curse. Usually her innocence made him smile, but she had no idea how hungry he was at the moment. He couldn’t afford to keep looking into her beautiful, sweet-as-honey eyes—the ones making him wonder if she tasted as sweet as she looked. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He needed to get rid of her.

  “When a guy gets too aroused but doesn’t get to go the distance, his balls get all—” He paused to think of the right word, “—congested. They hurt. There’s your sex education lesson for the decade. Happy you asked?”

  She frowned. “What about not coming to bed all week? I thought you didn’t like to sleep alone. I thought you liked sleeping with me.” He laughed because she didn’t mean it the way it sounded.

  “Why do you have to be so damned cute?” He reached up and pulled her face down to his for another quick kiss. “I like not ruining your life—any more than I already have. I’ve been too drunk to trust myself. If sleeping without you is the price I have to pay to nawt mess you up, then that’s what I’m going to do. I willingly sacrifice my balls for you, to save your hymen . . . so you’re welcome.” If only he’d remembered that a few minutes before.

  “You didn’t mind messing me up a minute ago, and . . . I didn’t mind letting you.”

  Damn if she couldn’t read his mind—and what the—she didn’t mind?

  “Shit.” He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Oh, Baby—” His voice caught, the memory of her berating herself earlier that day, having a breakdown, calling herself a big baby ran through his mind. She’d told him not to call her that. “Dani Gi . . . rrl.” Another childish name. “I mean, Rhees? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to call you anymore.” He made several breathy, snorting noises, drunkenly laughing at his conundrum.

  “Hey! You!” he barked. “There we go. Avoid all names completely. Go to bed!” he barked again. “Before I decide I’d rather find the cure for blue balls than not m
ess you up.”

  “Are you ordering me around again?” She seemed really mad. Of course she was angry again, she’d made it clear she didn’t like to be bossed around, but it was for her own good. If only she’d understand that.

  “How’d I end up with shit all over my face, again? Can I get a little credit?” Paul asked, confused. “I’m just trying to do the right thing here, finally.”

  “I already apologized. You don’t have to walk on eggshells with me. Baby is fine. I like the way you call me that, and I’m sorry about my meltdown today. I’m over it.”

  “Bullshit, Danarya. You aren’t any more ‘over it’ than you are over other things.” He thought about how that came out. “Aw shi-it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You tell me. What do you need to get over?” He sat up on his elbows, waiting for her to admit the reason she hated being touched. Her reaction to Taylor’s hug bomb was proof she wasn’t over it, even if she did just let him maul her.

  Rhees didn’t give any indication she knew what he was talking about. She either had some serious memory repression—suppression thing going on, or she’d be the best fucking poker player in the world. That is, if she could just loosen up that beautiful but timid and uptight mind of hers and allow herself to learn how to play poker. He dropped back on the blanket.

  She snuggled up next to him and mindlessly ran her fingers over his chest through his T-shirt. Her hand moved up to his neck and she softly traced his Adam’s apple. He grabbed her hand in self-defense—he didn’t need things getting any harder. He rolled to face her and brushed his lips, ever so softly, against hers and gazed into her eyes. He kissed her again with another moan before he stopped and rested his nose against hers.