Magnificent Ruin (Everlasting Series Book 2)

by Alison Foster

  The moment I give my fingers permission to travel south, images begin to form behind my closed eyelids. I won’t fight them. I can’t. I don’t want to. I picture Tomas’s firm pecs and his perfectly defined six-pack, feeling his strong arms around me. I have a glimpse of his dirty blond hair, wet with saltwater and sweat. I savor the delicious way the right corner of his mouth goes downward when he grins at me.

  Now it’s his tongue pressing my hot button instead of my fingers, teasing it, biting it, sucking on it. My arousal is almost frightening. I can barely remember having experienced anything so brutal, so complete and so intense, just using my imagination. I fucking want him and I might as well admit it once and for all. I’m dangerously close to a ferocious release when someone knocks on the bathroom door. My mind freezes and I just about choke on the bubbles that enter my open mouth as I am forced to come back down to planet Earth.

  “Who the hell?” I mumble, frustrated, when there’s a second knock.

  Then comes the voice. “Taylor, are you in there?”

  It’s him! It’s fucking him. Knocking on the door and calling my name right as I was about to come for him. A moment later and he would have heard me calling out his name. What the hell do I do now?

  I feel my cheeks fluster as I respond with a weak, “Yes”.

  “Hurry up,” he says. “We can’t be late.”

  We can’t be late? I hate to break it to you, Mr. Heavenly Body, but you’re already late for the party.

  I grumble and swear under my breath as I get out of the tub and under the shower to rinse the salts and oils off my skin. This whole situation I have going is so messed up I don’t even want to pretend to understand it.

  Tomas is waiting for me all fresh and shiny on the porch with a glass of green juice in his hand.

  “You look surprisingly healthy,” I say, brushing back my wet hair.

  “My apologies for not being more sickly,” he says, languidly.

  “I’ve always had this idea of writers being consumed by their own genius in combination with liberal amounts of alcohol.”

  “This isn’t the fifties, sweetheart. And I’m not a real writer.”

  “What are you exactly, Tomas?”

  He takes his time before answering, checking his watch and gulping down the rest of his green drink. “I’ll tell you tonight,” he says. “Now go get ready for the evening. We have an hour’s drive ahead of us and it’s seven already.”

  “Where are we going?” I say, having decided to act as if I’ve forgotten all about his invitation for the evening.

  “It’s a surprise, remember?” he says, turning around to face me.

  “What kind of a surprise?”

  “All I can say is that you’ll love it. That and also wear a bikini underneath your clothes.”

  Against my better judgment, I do as he says. Grace would have a good laugh if she knew how easy it is for Tomas to order me around.

  When I walk into the living room half an hour later, all dressed up in white skinny jeans and a sleeveless silk floral blouse that falls gently around my hips, what I see on his face is pure astonishment.

  “Sometimes I forget how good you look,” he says. “And it’s so effortless. There’s barely any makeup on you.”

  He studies my face curiously, almost as if I were an animal at the zoo. The intensity of his gaze is so penetrating I begin to feel uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

  “You’ve seen me before,” I say, walking past him. It’s hard to keep my composure when he’s staring at me like that.

  “I swear every day you get more beautiful,” he says.

  I look for signs of sarcasm in his voice but find none. “It’s your birthday,” I say, changing subjects. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Apparently, you found out anyway.”

  I don’t have to look at him to know there’s probably a teasing smirk on his face. “Stop toying with me, Tomas. Why can’t you be straightforward ever?”

  “What can I say, I’m not big on celebrations, especially birthdays. I definitely don’t expect any presents.”

  “Good, cause you’re not getting any.”

  “So now that we got that out of the way, do you think we can go?”

  I shrug and let him lead the way to the car. He turns his face back a couple of times to make sure I’m following, almost as if he’s convinced I could run away. A thought enters my mind that we’re both playing a game and I don’t like my chances to win.

  Tomas is a snake charmer, only he actually charms people. If I allowed him, he’d convince me of just about everything and I can’t forget that. My whole future might depend upon it.

  “Are you at least going to tell me what area of the island we’re going to?” I say as soon as I’m seated next to him in the car.

  “Nope,” he says, as the wheels screech on the paved street beneath us.

  Typical.

  Chapter 7

  The dark waters are ablaze with the reflection of a long row of bonfires along the seaside walk. The smell of burning wood mixed in with the ocean scents hits my nostrils like the very best of essential oils.

  Tomas holds my hand as we stroll down the busy fire-lit promenade, making my insides purr and growl at the same time. He, appropriately, looks like a Greek god in his burgundy buttoned shirt and black jeans. His chiseled features are even more accentuated in the ever changing play of flames and shadows.

  “I bet that’s not what you had in mind when you got in the car,” Tomas says, pointing at a band of traditional street musicians on a slightly elevated platform.

  “What’s going on?” is all I manage to say, totally spellbound with the crackling sounds of the fires and the joyful mood of the crowd.

  “It’s a traditional celebration for summer,” he says. “People light fires to burn the flower wreaths they made in May and then jump over them.”

  “They jump over the fires?”

  Tomas nods. “They do and so will you.”

  “Me?”

  “You don’t want to insult tradition, do you?”

  “I didn’t know it could be offended.”

  “Maybe not, but they would.”

  A group of elderly men and women in folding chairs watch the comings and goings of young couples, vociferous teenagers and excited children.

  “Naturally,” I say. “The whole island is celebrating your birthday.”

  “Honey, the entire country is.”

  He leads me to a bench facing the sea. From here we have a clear view of the small boats that are traveling the waters with lit lanterns onboard. To our left, the street musicians play a traditional tune on their clarinets and violins. To our right, the fires keep burning. Children feed the flames with new wood from time to time.

  “When’s the jumping going to start?” I say.

  Tomas takes out his cell phone to look at the time. “In about twenty minutes,” he says. “Nine o’clock sharp.”

  It hits me that he’s chosen to spend his birthday with me. This is not an accident—he planned it weeks ago. Of course, given the fact that he hates birthdays, it doesn’t really mean much.

  “Exactly how did you and Nathan meet?” I say.

  “You mean you haven’t heard the story from Grace?”

  “I have but not from you. I want your version.”

  “My version? I’m not sure there’s one. We met in Las Vegas while we were both aspiring to make a living as con men. It’s not a time I like to reminisce even if Nathan…” He pauses, probably trying to pick the right words. “Nathan was the first person who didn’t think I was a total loser. He actually respected me and saw something good in me.”

  “He idolized you.”

  He doesn’t respond and I don’t want to pressure him but I also don’t know what else to say. Maybe I should just shut up and watch the summer festival unfold.

  “They’d love it if they were here,” Tomas says. “Nathan and Grace, don’t you think? Nathan loves watching a good fire. He
’d just stare into it and see things no one else could see but himself.”

  His voice shows real emotion when he talks about Nathan. I’m not used to an emotional Tomas. I shouldn’t be surprised. I know that he cares about Nathan the way he’d care about a younger brother.

  Grace is a different story. Tomas and she butted heads when they first met and even though they later reached an understanding, they didn’t exactly become best buddies.

  “Do you think Grace is beautiful?” I blurt out as he reaches down to pick up a pebble.

  He lets the pebble drop and looks at me as if I had just murdered his pet puppy. “I don’t think anything of Grace,” he says.

  “C’mon, you’re a guy. Guys always think something of a woman.”

  “Grace is not a woman.”

  Did I hear him right? “I beg your pardon?”

  “You make me say the strangest things, Taylor,” he says, licking his lips.

  I open my eyes as wide as I can to express my shock. “I did that? I was the one who made you say that Grace is not a woman?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t.” I’m not sure I enjoy how uncomfortable this conversation makes him.

  “Grace is sacred. She is loved by Nathan. She holds his heart. That means everything she does is above the world of mortals. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do if she asked.”

  “That’s precisely what men think of women they love.”

  “No, that’s what mortals think of goddesses.”

  I can’t help but laugh at his seriousness. “You’re full of shit. You’re attracted to her.”

  “I’ll meet you in the middle,” he offers with a sigh. “Grace is one of the most intelligent people I have ever met. That makes a woman attractive in my humble opinion.”

  “Tomas Keller has humble opinions?”

  “Opinions are humble whereas facts are certain,” he says.

  I nod my head thinking that this boy toy is quite smart himself. “And am I intelligent enough to be attractive in your opinion?”

  He raises his hand to brush his fingers against my cheek. My shock is akin to that of a teenage girl who gets the attention of her favorite pop star. “You, Taylor,” he says. “Your intelligence is a certainty. Any man would agree.”

  I have no idea how to handle such intimacy. When he opens up to me, this fear takes hold of me that I might misread him and end up acting like a fool.

  “What has Nathan done to deserve such loyalty?” I say to deflect attention from our intense moment.

  “He doesn’t have to do anything, he’s my brother.”

  “What?” I say like an idiot.

  “Well, not literally, of course.”

  “No, of course not.”

  Awkward… and it really shouldn’t be. Can he feel how I twist and turn on the bench, clenching my jaw and hands?

  “Have you ever been with a girl?” he says out of the blue.

  The bastard sure knows how to kill a moment. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “C’mon, Taylor, what are you protecting? What about an orgy? No? Too much for you? Yeah, you’re too classy for that. I bet it was a threesome. You must have had a threesome at least. You’re so enticing you’d make any man do whatever you wanted.”

  I shake my head, exasperated. “Nope. Sorry to disappoint but I’m just plain dull by your standards, it seems.”

  You’d think he’d drop it after that but no—that’s player Tomas in full swing finally. It’s been a while, but how long could he keep that part of him hidden?

  “You must have thought about it?” he goes on. “What about Grace and Nate? Would you give it a go with them? You’d feel comfortable enough with Grace and as for Nate… I bet you’ve thought about his pinna.”

  I’m too stunned to even be mad. “What have you been smoking?” I say. “Do you get pleasure from being offensive?”

  He sighs. “Pleasure is not so easily attained.”

  “Tomas and his hard to attain pleasure,” I say. “Hardly a Charles Dickens tear jerker.”

  “That’s my Taylor,” he says. “Playing it both ways. It’s fine for you to tease me about Grace but I can’t tease you about Nate? The man with a God piece under his cod piece.”

  I cover my mouth trying not to laugh. It’s frustrating to be angry and amused simultaneously. “You’re ridiculous. Do you know that?”

  “I do,” he says.

  “You also might be the devil.”

  “A strong likelihood,” he agrees and grips my hand tenderly.

  I give up. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “I’ll give you a break and not answer that,” he says.

  There are times that talking to Tomas is a maddening roller coaster. Strangely, I often feel relaxed afterward. I’m about to ask him what time it is when I notice a commotion around the line of bonfires, but I never get a chance. Tomas tightens his grip and pulls me up. He plants a kiss on my forehead.

  “Why do you do those things?” I say softer than I would have liked. “I’m not just your play thing.”

  “More’s the pity,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes.

  For a moment, I’m astounded but then I raise my right hand to rest on the back of his neck. He remains still and rigid under my touch, not making any attempt to touch me back. Have I misread him again?

  I retrieve my hand when suddenly he takes hold of my wrist to set it back on his neck.

  “Taylor,” he whispers. “Careful not to wake the beast.”

  “You feel it, too,” I manage to say.

  “All I do is feel things. Too many things. Messed up things. Pure things. I don’t intend to mix them all together. You’re more important to me than my feelings. It’s my intention to keep you unscarred.”

  “That’s for me to decide.”

  He stares into my eyes, holding my hand against the back of his neck. I feel it in my blood that he wants to kiss me and he should know that I wouldn’t object.

  The moment gets swept away by a loud bell that announces the commencement of the festivities.

  “Okay,” Tomas says. “Let’s see how good you are when faced with fire.”

  As soon as we find ourselves in a line of people waiting to leap over the row of bonfires, I realize that Tomas and I are the only ones with our jeans still on. Everybody else is in shorts or their swimming suits.

  “Jeans were not a good idea,” I tell him as I bend over to roll mine up.

  He shrugs with an infuriating smile on his face.

  I try as hard as I can to roll my white jeans up to no avail; you can’t exactly cuff skinny jeans and the fact that I’m terribly nervous doesn’t help.

  “Do you see now why you should have told me where we were going?” I tell Tomas as I slap his right arm.

  “Stop whining and take your pants off,” he says as he removes his own jeans to reveal his swimming trunks and his tanned, powerfully built calves. “I told you to wear a bikini, didn’t I?”

  Stop whining. He’s said this very same thing to me before. When was it? Oh, that’s right, in my erotic dream. Fuck! I’m so screwed. Ah, figuratively.

  Protesting is pointless. I get out of line to get rid of my jeans as I don’t want to strip in front of everyone.

  Tomas follows me, a little bit more amused than I would like him to be. “Should we take them back to the car?” I ask, getting more restless by the second.

  “Nah, just leave them on the bench. If they’re stolen, it was meant to be.”

  I do as he says even though I’m certain I’ll live to regret it. My own pessimism upsets me. What the hell has happened to me? Have I lost all ability to live in the moment?

  One by one, the folks around the bonfires jump over the flames laughing and shouting out Greek words I don’t understand. When our turn comes, Tomas urges me to go first.

  “It’s a symbol of life,” he whispers in my ear.

  I sprint the few feet between me and the first flames, jumping ov
er fire after fire. Exhilaration takes over my heart and mind and I find I can’t stop laughing.

  Once I’m over the last fire, I turn back to watch Tomas. His wonderfully coordinated body reaches heights I would not have thought possible as he leaps like a jaguar over the consuming flames.

  He lands in front of me, taking me in his arms. We’re so close to each other, I can feel his fast heartbeat underneath his shirt.

  “Everything is on fire,” I say, excitedly, not entirely sure what I mean.

  A middle aged woman takes me by the hand. I’m flabbergasted by her impudence but Tomas nods to me that I should follow her.

  The woman shows me a big clay jar that’s filled with water. As I lean over the top, I see various personal items swimming in the water like rings, bracelets and earrings.

  A group of young girls stand around the pot smiling at me.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  “Put something in the pot,” one of the young women tells me. “The stars do some magic tonight and you will dream of the man you marry.”

  “Oh,” I say. “If I knew it’d be that easy, I’d have visited sooner.”

  Tomas puts his arms around me from behind. “Do it,” he says. “Remember? You can’t insult tradition.”

  Still unsure about it, I take off one of my earrings and throw it into the clay jar. “That’s one lost earring,” I say, as we walk away. “What now?”

  “Now we swim,” he says. “But not here.”

  ***

  We walk barefoot on the soft sand side by side, holding our shoes in our hands. The beach is deserted. Two old pedal boats sit forgotten by the edge of the water. My skin shudders and I get goose bumps as Tomas’s arm brushes against mine in the warm, calm night.

  “It’s perfect here,” I say, when he comes to a halt to stare at the dark sea.

  He has brought a bottle of red wine which we have decided not to open until after the swim.

  Tomas quickly takes off his shirt, taking my breath away. He’s a shining excellence under the pale starlight. He’s a hypnotic specimen of muscle, smooth skin and radiant confidence. I doubt there’s been a single moment in his adult life he didn’t know he was destined to make women lose their minds.