Wet: Part 2

by Rivera, S. Jackson

  Her arms snaked around his neck, and she pulled him to her, kissing him back. He slipped a hand around her waist, the other into her hair and he kissed her hard, with more enthusiasm than usual.

  “Mm . . .” Paul said—if you could call that saying something—it spoke plenty to Rhees, and she gasped, afraid the fear her nerves imposed could derail her desires. She had plenty of concerns, but she really wanted this. She concentrated on the way she loved how he touched her, the way he tasted, how he made her feel, in her heart—and her body. She’d never thought about a man, any man, the way she’d been thinking of Paul. She wanted this. She wanted him.

  He paused for a half a second, looking uncertain, but she pulled him back to her lips, persuading his mouth with her tongue. She didn’t want to delicately tease him the way he’d been kissing her since she’d complained about being assaulted with his tongue. She wanted to be assaulted.

  She wore her new coral bikini, no camisole, and the skin-to-skin, belly-to-belly, contact lured Paul, beckoning him to that sweet paradise that had always swept him away. He returned her signal by tackling her mouth with a vengeance. She boldly countered with her hips, twisting them to meet him square on, a move that made him forget who he was with and yet remember all too well—the pent up energy, emotion, and desire since the zip line, the night in the hotel room, five months of abstinence in spite of sleeping next to the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. He shifted, and she landed on top of him in one quick move. He held her to him as close as he could get her.

  She didn’t let up, taking as much as he wanted to give as his hands made their way down. He squeezed her butt with both hands, drawing her apart at the seam. He growled, imagining what he could do with that. His finger skimmed along the gap, over her swimsuit, and he hissed through clenched teeth.

  His fingers effortlessly found their way inside her suit, sliding along—

  Rhees wouldn’t have thought it humanly possible for him to be under her, in her arms one second, doing unspeakable things to her, and a split second later, be twenty feet away, pacing and cursing aloud, throwing an ugly tantrum. It was all a blur—and a stab to her heart.

  “I. Am. So. Sorry!” He finally stopped long enough to speak to her instead of swearing at the sand beneath his feet. He looked down again and scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

  “Paul,” she called, but he didn’t listen, too distraught and busy cursing himself.

  “I can’t remember what we did that night, but He does and now he wants more. I promise, I haven’t been drinking, but—He’s out of control. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

  “Paul, listen.” Rhees sat up on her knees. “Will you please stop freaking out and listen to me?” She scolded him to snap him out of his own world of misery. It got his attention. “Sit! We need to talk.” She patted the blanket next to her.

  “I can’t.”

  “Get over here!”

  He made the distance back to her and sat, unenthusiastically, a few feet away so they wouldn’t be touching. She rolled her eyes.

  “Why do you think we’re here?” She swept her hand, gesturing that she meant the caye. “All alone?”

  He shook his head, watching her.

  “Instead of trying to pretend like there is no elephant in the room, how about we just invite it to stay? I’ve been thinking, a lot, about that night and . . . Paul, I don’t think it was just ‘He’.”

  “He?”

  She blushed. “You always call your penis, He.”

  “Oh.” Paul looked down, embarrassed. “Yeah.”

  “Maybe it’s time—maybe we’re just ready. Maybe the other night was simply a natural progression, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I think we should go with it and see what happens.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that.” Paul tried not to laugh, but it wasn’t easy. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to hear you say it? But now that you have, it doesn’t feel right. Dani Girl . . . I appreciate the gesture, but it’s not right.”

  “I think it is. That morning—when you said we didn’t. I felt so disappointed. I wished we had.”

  “Because you would have been happy to have it ‘over with’ while you were too drunk to care.” He sighed loudly and fell on his back.

  She followed his example. After a minute, he rolled onto his side and rested his head on his outstretched arm, watching her. Again, she did what he did, and they faced each other. He smiled warmly as he watched her for another minute.

  “We still have your second twenty-ninth birthday, remember?” He forced a smile, wanting to lighten the mood. “You said once that your favorite thing about Christmas was the anticipation, that you didn’t understand why some people sneak around, secretly opening their presents. You think the waiting is what makes it special. Let’s just enjoy the anticipation.”

  She thought it sweet he remembered a conversation they’d had so long ago. “This isn’t the same. I like the anticipation. You, on the other hand, said it drove you crazy. You were one of those people. You were the one who sneaked around, secretly opening your presents because you couldn’t wait.”

  He looked guilty.

  “I want to be the present. I’m offering myself, telling you it’s okay to open me early.” He burst out laughing, so she did too.

  “Wow.” He laughed a few more seconds but slowly shifted to a more serious mood. “Aw, Dani Girl.” He scrunched up his beautiful face and closed his eyes. He worked his mouth a little. “You’re not ready.”

  She didn’t want to be offended, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “Unless you’re psychic or something, you can’t possibly know that.”

  He stroked the side of her face, trying to bring her back. It didn’t work, so he leaned over her, trying to make her look at him, the concern unmistakable in his expression.

  “Not too long ago, you completely lost it, just because Taylor wanted to give you a hug.”

  “I’m not trying to convince Taylor to make love to me!” She tried to laugh to hide the sting of what felt like rejection. “I haven’t lost it on you for months.”

  The truth of it made him look worried and he rolled onto his back to look up at the sky.

  “Geeminy! You really aren’t interested, are you?” She sat up and scooted away so her back was to him, purposely putting a little space between them.

  Paul raised the fingers he’d had on her to his nose and breathed it in, savoring the lingering scent.

  “You’re closer than you were last time.” He shook his head to clear his wayward thoughts. “Gawd, girl! I know you’re closer than you were that night on the deck—but I can’t. I could, easily. I just don’t want to—no. I wawnt to, I just . . . Gawd, I don’t know what the hell I’m trying to say.”

  He’d thought about having her, dreamed of it, almost obsessively at times. But the stronger his feelings for her grew, the more he didn’t really want her to lower her standards for him. The thought of her being with him didn’t sound right, sounded dirty, dirtier than the way he’d ever thought of sex before.

  He wasn’t worthy of her. She was so pure—he was anything but. And then there were the fantasies that stopped cold with the thought of her being repulsed, pushing him away, screaming for him to stop. He didn’t know if he could handle that. Being rejected by her would . . . hurt. More than he cared to admit.

  Finally, he feared losing control. He thought himself an animal. She’d said she wanted him before but changed her mind. Luckily, he’d gone into it expecting to stop, but he couldn’t guarantee he could do that every time—again. Not now, not with the way he felt for her. If he reached the point of no return, but she wanted to return.

  “It’s better to wait.”

  “I’m done waiting!” She exhaled a loud,
angry breath.

  “You made yourself a promise to wait. I made myself a promise to get you off this island—” He made a face. “—the same way you came.” If he really meant it, she’d be gone already, but instead, he’d kept her there at every turn, and she’d already changed because of him. She shouldn’t be asking this of him. She would never ask if not for his bad influence.

  “Yeeaah. I made that promise before I knew you were going to come along and turn my world upside down. If I’d known, I would have marked this day on my calendar.”

  She made him smile. He liked the sound of it, but he didn’t think he should.

  “I wasn’t ready last time. You were right, then, but it’s different now. I haven’t freaked out on you for quite a while. I absolutely, positively, do not freak out when you touch me, now.” She turned her body to face him. “I’m ready. I’m really ready. I want this. Paul, I wawnt you!”

  “Please, don’t say that.” He rolled onto his back again. “Rhees. This is hard for me, but the truth is, I don’t want you to give up . . . not for me. You’ve been waiting for Mr. Right—I’m everything wrong.”

  She looked like a rock, no, a boulder, just dropped into the pit of her stomach. Or was it her heart? This conversation continued to get worse and worse, and he felt terrible.

  “I like how innocent you are. I could never forgive myself if I selfishly robbed you of one of the things that make you so special.”

  She turned away again, huffing and puffing out little humorless laughs. “At home, all the boys joke about girls who are special. It means they think a girl’s nice but no one really wants to . . .” She didn’t finish.

  “Part of me still holds out on the hope that you’ll go back to Utah and meet a nice boy—someone more like you, someone good and innocent, someone who deserves you. That someone isn’t me. I’m too selfish and self-centered. It would be greed and lust, and I want more for you. I want you to have your happily ever after, the way you’ve always hoped it would be.”

  Saying the words was hard, believing them another thing entirely. The thought of her with anyone else drove him insane.

  “You, apparently, know nothing about what I want. I’ve told you how I feel about Utah. There’s nothing there for me, and those nice boys don’t want me. They never have, never will. I never want to go back!”

  “You’ll come to your senses and realize I’m right.”

  “Paul!” She crawled back to be close again and snuggled up to him, wrapping an arm and leg around him, desperately claiming him, and he responded by resting his arms lightly around her waist. She looked into his eyes, pleading.

  “Don’t say things like that, please.” She fought back tears. She didn’t want to cry. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way, and I can live with that, but I thought you wanted me. I’ll take whatever you can give. You give me more than you realize. I want to be with you, be close to you. I want to be intimate with you. Paul . . . I love you!”

  “Jesus!” Again, Paul jumped up and away from her so fast it left her dazed. He stood staring at her in utter shock. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing is wrong with me. I didn’t mean to feel this way, it just happened. I can’t help it. I love you.”

  “No!” He cursed and started knocking his forehead against the palms of his hands. “No! No, you don’t—you can’t!”

  “I do.” She choked back tears. His reaction hurt. “I love you.” She sat up straighter. “It isn’t enough for me to say it. I want to show you. That makes you the perfect man—you said yourself you were the perfect man for the job. I want you.”

  “I didn’t give a fuck about you then,” he growled. “All I wanted was to get inside your panties.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “You’d better believe that,” he snorted incredulously. “That is exactly the kind of man I was.”

  “Was!” she yelled back, jumping up. She tried to get close to him. She wanted to calm him, convince him, but he kept moving away from her. She finally stopped chasing him and folded her arms, something she did when she began to feel the need to get away.

  “Was, is the word of the day. I don’t believe you are as bad as you always think you are.” She spoke calmly and more quietly than before.

  “Oh my God!” He ran both hands through his hair and then threw them in the air, glaring at her accusingly. His tone escalated. “You are so gullible! Just what do you think that was . . . the night at the hotel?”

  “Us! Having feelings for each other.” She moved back to the blanket and sat down. She pulled her legs to her chest. Phase two of her retreat.

  “Look how well that turned out!” he said recklessly.

  “You said you’d stopped pretending. You said you love me.”

  “I never said that!” He staggered, taken aback, but the look on his face showed he wasn’t completely convinced he hadn’t.

  “It was right after you said you weren’t pretending anymore. Before I got in the van to go shopping, you said, ‘Love you’, as though you said it every day of the week.” She watched him squirm, fidgeting as though he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and made a few agonized faces.

  “I thought we’d moved forward.” She closed her eyes. “You don’t want me either. I get it. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

  Paul knew Rhees well enough to recognize the signs, but he desperately needed to think of a way to turn things back, to save her from him. He couldn’t do that and take away the pain he’d caused her, continued to cause her.

  “You can’t love me. Rhees. Don’t waste yourself on me, I’m not worth it—I’m not worthy of you.”

  “Stop it. Just stop it!” she screamed. “You’re only saying that because it’s easier than admitting what the fuck is really going on here.” She closed her eyes and puckered her mouth. Her lips trembled. She’d reached her limit, and she attacked. It didn’t happen often, but he’d learned that when she did—she let loose and inserted more swear words than even Paul could have.

  “Apparently, you’ll sleep with anything that has a God-damned vagina . . . except me. Shit! Maybe I should go find Taylor.”

  “Rhees, don’t.”

  “He’s not as picky as you are. He said if I really wanted you, I should fuck him first. He said you like it that way—I think he’s wrong. You still wouldn’t want me, but shit! Actually—” She laughed eerily and acted like she’d just come up with a brilliant idea. “Mario wanted to fuck me too. Maybe he still does! Do you think the prison has a conjugal visiting program?”

  “Just stop it! You’re being . . . redonkulous.”

  “Pfft! The pot calling the kettle black,” she yelled. She finally looked out over the water, trying to catch her breath.

  He took a deep breath and let it out, wretchedly. He hung his head and both stood quietly for a minute.

  “Rhees . . . look at me.” He sounded hoarse and cleared his throat.

  “Why, so you can glamour me?” She laughed jadedly, and looked everywhere except at him. “So you can use your magical eyes to make all this go away—make me forget how I feel about you so that I’ll stop complicating—fucking up your life?”

  She finally mustered the courage to look at him straight on. His eyes shined, but not with their usual sparkle. Sadness.

  “Do it! Glamour me—I want to forget.”

  “Rhees . . . I told you I have a dark past.” He glanced down at the ground. “You deserve so much better.”

  She folded her arms again and braced herself for the bad news she knew was coming. He finally looked back up at her.

  “I do love you.” The desolate look in his red-rimmed eyes deepened as the words spewed out like a death sentence. “I love you. I shouldn’t—I’ve been denying it becaus
e it’s so wrong, but—” His eyes were wet, the tears pooled, ready to overflow, but they didn’t. “I love you too much to defile you.”

  She gasped for air as she staggered away from him. She stopped at the edge of the water and looked out across the channel. He watched the strain on her face grow heavier and heavier as she tried too hard not to cry. She zoned out and didn’t hear anything he said after that, until she reached down for her gear and headed back toward the water. She waded in until the water lapped at her waist. She put her mask on and slipped into her fins.

  “Rhees,” he called, wading in after her. He gently caressed her arm. “What are you doing? Remember what I said about the current?”

  “I need time to think,” she snapped, yanking her arm away from him. She put her face in the water and started kicking. She headed south, sticking to the shoreline as he watched her, warily.

  “Please don’t run from me. You always run,” he called after her. She didn’t stop. He threw his hands up behind his head and paced a little, disgusted with himself, worried about her. He realized how much better off she’d be if she would’ve run from him long ago, but he’d let his selfishness get in the way. He always did.

  His jaw set tight and his mouth twitched, frantic to think of something to say to make her come back—make it all better. She swam farther and farther away from him, but she hugged the shoreline, so he sat down and let her have the time she’d asked for.

  He leaned back on his hands and let the sun absorb into his soul while he waited for her to come back, trying to figure out what he could say to her when she did. When he finally opened his eyes again, he looked to check on her. She wasn’t near where she’d been the last time he saw her.

  “Rhees!” he shouted. He jumped to his feet and looked around. It took him a second, but he shifted into full panic mode.