by K Leigh
“I mean, I do.” Kate pops the last bite of scrambled eggs into her mouth. “But it’s weird to be in this in-between stage. I’m an adult, but they still treat me like I’m a kid.”
“Yeah, I definitely get that!” Grabbing my trash, I follow Kate, dropping it into the can on our way out.
The friendly sunshine warms my face as we step out onto the deck of the mess hall. Families are scattered over the camp, some heading to the rec hall, others on the docks snapping up life jackets. We’d be free for most of the day, just acting as go-betweens for anyone that needs help finding a place.
“Where are we at first?” Kate asks. “Nat? Wake up, Nat.”
Her words hit me, but I can’t manage to reply. Matt is staring straight at me, leaning on the deck railing and ignoring the furious whispers of a couple that has to be his parents.
“Control freaks,” Kate snarls, eyeing the couple. “They look like assholes.” Kate hadn’t been pleased when I filled her in on everything that happened while she was on the supply trip and the morning after.
When the woman’s head swivels in our direction, there’s no doubt she heard Kate’s proclamation. Her perfect porcelain features remain composed, a dewy smile spreading across her large front teeth. “Matt, is this your photography friend?” She motions toward Kate.
Kate’s expression of horror has Matt and I hiding our smiles. His gaze lingers on my mouth, and the tingling sensation of my tongue tracing the curves of my lips startles me from our staring contest.
“Nope,” she answers for him. “I’m Kate.”
Matt’s dad holds out his hand. “I’m Prescott’s father, Prescott Rochester II.” The man releases his hand from Kate’s grip, tucking his hands into his pockets. “This is my wife, Clarisse.” Matt’s mother slips her arm into his, leaning into him as if she needs physical support to deal with us.
“Prescott?” Kate blurts out what I was thinking. “You mean Matt?”
“Oh, Prescott.” Clarisse sighs. “I can’t believe you’re going by that appalling nickname again.”
“I know, Mother.” Matt nods, rolling his eyes. “Prescott Matthew Rochester III is a mouthful for everyday use. Mother, Father, this is Kate.” He motions toward Kate, then turns to me. “And this is Natalie.” My name spills across his lips like a soft wave lapping around my ankles when I take that first step into the ocean. My feet are firm on the ground, but I’ll be in over my head before long.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Rochester,” I say.
Clarisse Rochester replies with a low hum before turning to her son. “I suppose we should get on with the tour. Prescott, why don’t you show us the cliff? The one on the film we developed for you? Gorgeous sunrise.”
“Sure, Mother.” A wistful wanting spreads across his face as he turns to me. “Natalie, come with us. You took most of the photos, anyway.”
“Really?” I ask, ignoring the Rochesters’ horrified expressions.
“Please.” Matt’s pleading gaze is hard to resist, not that I wanted to in the first place. But still, I manage.
“I can’t, Matt. I have to help Kate out. Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Rochester.” Slipping my arm through Kate’s, we make our escape.
The soft knocking on my door stirs me from a light sleep. Spending the day covertly watching Matt and his parents left me exhausted. Witnessing their familial arguments made me miss my own family. We have our own faults, like anyone, but at least it’s drama I’m accustomed to.
“Coming,” I call. Climbing out of the soft, comforting cocoon I made in my covers, I open the door to my room wide enough to peek out of the crack. “What are you doing here?”
Matt leans on the door handle, hair splayed across his forehead. “I needed to see you.”
As he talks, the alcohol on his breath envelops me. Shit. If he gets caught drinking, he’ll be sent home. Stepping back, I open the door wide enough for him to fit. “Come in.”
Turning away from him, I grab my dirty clothes from the day and toss them into my laundry basket. Thankfully, my pajamas are modest. At home, I sleep in underwear and a tank top. Getting caught in them by Matt would have been awkward.
As he makes his way to my bed, nerves settle in my stomach at the thought of sitting near him. The creaking mattress springs interrupt my train of thought, and the dilemma is solved for me.
Matt props himself up on my pillows. Checking his feet, I’m relieved to see he only has socks on. No shoes are allowed on my bed. That was a strict rule Connor never bothered to abide by; another of my wishes he didn’t have respect for.
After a moment, I perch on the foot of my bed, folding my hands in my lap to keep from picking my nails. “Have a good time with your parents?” I ask.
He scoffs, rolling his eyes at me. “No.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know what I want.” When he throws his head back, it bangs the wall.
“Shush. You’ll wake the rest of the staff.”
Matt opens one eye, smirking at me. “You think they’re even here?”
“Oh, that’s right.” Sabrina had invited me to sneak out with them earlier, but I wasn’t that dumb. They’re going to get caught. Tonya has already been on the warpath.
He leans forward and I watch the muscles in his arms flex as he clasps his hands together. His eyes seem to jump around my face, sizing me up. “Ms. Goody-Goody doesn’t go, though.”
“Well, I’m not the only one that follows the rules,” I say pointedly. I refuse to be embarrassed. “You’re here.”
Drunk, yes, but he hadn’t gone out with them either.
“No, I don’t go out with them,” he says, reaching out to cover my hand with his.
“Too good to hang out with the country kids?” Moving my hand away, I can taste the judgment in my tone. An acidic dislike for anyone that looks down on people like me.
“What?” he asks, his face twisted in confusion. “No, I’ve never been invited.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I had put my foot in my mouth yet again. Why did I always find a way to insult him? “I’m always so mean to you.”
“You are.” Matt reaches for my hand again. “Sneaking into my life when I least expected you, hanging out with me every morning while we do what we both love best. Your presence is pure torture.”
“I’m serious, Matt,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m always making smartass comments to you.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—wait.” Matt scoots closer to me, searching my face. “You said ass.”
“I cuss on occasion, Matt,” I say, annoyed. “I’m not always Little Miss Perfect.”
“First time I’ve heard.” He’s so close, our shoulders brush.
It takes every bit of self-control in me not to lean into him. He’s in my room, in my bed, his scent permeating the air I’m breathing.
“So, are your parents gone?” I attempt to make conversation, ignoring the way his hand feels around mine. Safe. Exciting. A journey.
“They were going to stay the night. I think I scared them off.”
“How so?”
Matt wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. He whispers in my ear, “I told them no.”
“No?”
“About the wedding,” Matt clarifies. “I said I’m not marrying anyone for the foreseeable future. And when I do get married, it’ll be my choice. They can disown me, cut me off—whatever they want. I’m done being their puppet.”
I search his face for a sign that he’s joking, but his expression remains serious. “Wait. You mean…”
“I mean it. I’m not marrying her. Or anyone, for a long time. Maybe not ever.”
Nodding slowly, I say, “I get that. What does that mean for you? You think they’ll really disown you?”
He presses a kiss to my forehead, shrugging in response. “I have no idea. They were so shocked. They said we’d talk at the end of the summer about the family’s future. I may not have won the war yet, but I’ve go
t a battle under my belt.”
As the reality of his announcement hits home, the magnetic force between us grows stronger and his lips are almost to mine when I stop.
“What if—” I start, but he cuts me off, holding his hand out in front of him.
“Oh, Nat, I don’t care about the what ifs. I care about you. I like you. I want you. Nothing else matters.” His mouth closes on mine and neither of us move for a moment, reveling in the feel of our lips touching.
My heart thumps so hard it might beat out of my chest, and I ache for something I can’t describe. Our tongues begin moving in sync, the alcohol on his breath invading my senses and warring with the want in my bones. Reluctantly, I pull back.
“Matt.” My palm catches his cheek, caressing his soft skin with my thumb. “How much did you drink?”
“Not enough that you’re taking advantage of me,” Matt jokes.
“Oh, no, sir. I’m not sleeping with you.”
Matt’s eyes widen, his words becoming less slurred as he speaks. “I know that, Nat. You’re not sleeping with anyone. That’s why you dumped that jackass.”
Maybe I’m self-destructing to avoid my feelings for Matt. Instead of finding reasons to stop this from happening, perhaps I should go with the flow. Swallowing the rest of my doubt and questions, I pull Matt’s mouth to mine in one swoop.
Our lips catch fire like burning letters, melting and folding together as if they’ll be whole from this point forward.
18
Natalie
Past
Waking up in Matt’s arms was like something out of a dream…
“Natalie.” Matt’s sing-song whisper of my name rouses me from the best night’s sleep I think I’ve ever had. “I better go back to my room.”
Groaning into the crook of his arm, I shake my head in protest. “Don’t go.”
“It’s after midnight. We can’t get caught.” He tickles my lower back, causing me to twist and turn under the covers. Something hard presses through his shorts and against the back of my thigh.
He turns away, clearing his throat, and I feel the covers shift as he adjusts himself.
Rolling over, I grab his hands and pull them around me, rolling his body back on his side. His hands clasp each other on the small of my back, pulling me closer until there’s no space between us. My skin burns where his touches mine, and his musky scent surrounds me. We’d fallen asleep with the understanding that we weren’t having sex tonight, but I’m beginning to regret that declaration.
“You know, I’m not accustomed to being the submissive one in bed.” Matt’s whisper tickles my ear before he nips my earlobe.
“I’m not accustomed to being anything in bed,” I joke.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Matt trails kisses across my cheek, moving down my neck. I’m taken back to that night in the truck with Connor, when this action disgusted me and made me feel trapped. But with Matt, I want him to keep going, to move lower.
“I know.” I nod. “I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do.”
As we stare into each other’s eyes for a moment longer, the yearning thump of our heartbeats blend together, and just like the first time we kissed, we move together as if this was planned all along. Our mouths devour one another, starving for this connection. Moonlight spills into my room, illuminating our shadows on the wall as I straddle the man in my bed, though both of us remain fully clothed.
An unexplainable urge begins dancing between my thighs, burning brighter and hotter until the bed erupts in flames.
My alarm sounds, waking me from my dreamless slumber. I sit up in bed, glancing over at the sleeping lump beside me. My thighs clench pleasantly at the memory of Matt moving between them throughout the night, alternating between hands and mouth, until it felt like I was floating among the stars. Fleetingly, I hoped that our noises weren’t as loud as they had seemed. If he reassured me that no one had probably returned from the excursion yet.
After a moment, I rip the covers off him. With a loud thump, Matt hits the floor, and I cover my mouth to hide my laughter at his bemused expression.
“What the hell?” he grunts.
“Come on, I want to get some good photos this morning.” Stretching out with my arms over my head, I look down and realize I’m completely naked.
“Oh, shit.” Grabbing the covers, I wrap myself up again, hopping to my feet in my makeshift gown.
“I’m beginning to think I’m a bad influence on you.” Matt winks at me. “Let me grab some clothes and I’ll meet you in the bathroom. We might need to shower before photography this morning.”
He jumps to his feet, standing before me, bare. Being exposed doesn’t phase Matt. I can’t help but watch his muscles shift, his thighs clenching as he bends to collect his clothes from the ground.
The memories of the things we did the night before mixed with his au naturel state leave me dizzy. We hadn’t had sex, but the heat coursing through my veins is a constant reminder that I had wanted to.
“You okay?” Matt slips one foot and then the other into his shorts. My cheeks flush at the memory of traveling up his body last night. His signature smirk spreads across his chiseled features, interrupting my reminiscing.
“I’m fine.” Snapping back to reality, I turn to grab my clothes for the day from my dresser. “Are you okay?”
Maybe he didn’t enjoy our night. Maybe he was disappointed that I hadn’t wanted to go all the way. Or, maybe he hadn’t wanted to sleep with me, anyway.
His palm warms my shoulder and I shiver as he presses a kiss to the nape of my neck. “I’ve never been better. I have to get ready, though. I’ll see you later.”
Glad he can’t see the silly smile I feel spreading across my face, I nod. “See you in a bit.”
The door closes behind him and when I turn, he’s gone.
I’d gone farther with a guy I’d known less than a month than I ever had with Connor, and I had wanted even more. Matt never asked—never attempted—but if he had, I would’ve said yes in the moment.
I don’t regret our night. Not one bit.
And that’s what scares me the most.
19
Lia
It’s difficult to imagine Aunt Natalie head over heels for this rich guy. It’s even more weird that I’ve never heard anyone in our family mention him; meaning that, for whatever reason, it didn’t work out.
Maybe that’s why she doesn’t date now? Is she still in love with him? Did he break her heart? Or worse, maybe she broke his.
The idea of her sneaking around at camp and hiding a boy in her bunk amuses me, because while the Natalie I know would sometimes bend the rules and sneak me chocolate chip cookies for dinner, I can’t imagine her outright breaking rules. Then again, dessert and orgasms are comparable.
An idea hits me out of nowhere and I can’t believe I haven’t thought of it before. I should look this guy up on the Internet. Natalie doesn’t have social media, except for the business page, but most people their age have some kind of digital footprint.
Opening up my laptop, I tap my desk nervously as I wait on it to load. As soon as my home screen appears, I open up my browser and type in that ridiculous name. Prescott Matthew Rochester III. I don’t blame him for introducing himself as Matt.
Several articles come up about his family’s company, philanthropy activities, and political donations. The only social media sites I can find are operated by official representatives of their company. Scrolling through his photos, I have to admit he’s aged well. His blond waves in the picture I had found are now cut short instead of curling around his ears, and his clean-shaven, stony face stares the camera down in every picture. Some might think he looks bored or standoffish, but not me. I think it looks like he’s begging someone to save him, to take him somewhere else.
Articles list his accomplishments in the oil industry, the fact that he’s considered one of the country’s most eligible bachelors, and his interactions with
a string of gorgeous women on his arm.
He ended up being exactly what he despised.
What in the world happened to Matt and Natalie?
Suddenly, my door bangs against the wall, and I jump as if I’ve been shot.
“My Lia bug!” Kate shrieks, barreling into my room and hurrying over to me.
“Aunt Kate!” I push my chair back, standing up to return her hug. Reaching behind me, I close the computer easily before she can catch a glimpse of my research topic.
“How are you?” She surveys me from head to toe. “You’ve grown a foot.”
“I’m great.” No loud giggles follow her into my room. “Womb gremlins downstairs?”
The term she dreamed up for her children makes most gasp, but she uses it with the utmost affection. She and Uncle Seth are the coolest parents ever.
Her familiar throaty laugh, no doubt from smoking two packs a day in her twenties, rings throughout my room. “They’re torturing their dad today. Us girls are going out.”
“You and me?” An afternoon hanging out with Kate can turn into anything. I should probably pack an overnight bag.
“And your mom and Nat,” Kate says.
“A girls’ day?” Groaning inwardly, memories of our past girls’ days flash before my eyes. We always end up doing something crazy. Once, we went yard saleing. One of the houses we stopped at got grumpy with me over a toy I wanted, and Mom and Nat took down all of her yard sale signs as we passed them on the way out of the subdivision.
That, mixed with the idea of facing Natalie after staying up all night reading about her and Matt, makes me think a girls’ day is not in my best interest. “I don’t think so. I’m too tired. I was up late.”
“Oh no, missy. We’re going. You look just like your aunt when you try to bullshit your way out of stuff.” Kate grabs me by the shoulders, giving me a good shake. “It’ll be better this time. This will be the girls’ day to end all girls’ days.”