Pulled Beneath

by Marni Mann

  I’d felt him while I was in the water.

  That feeling intensified now that I was out and wasn’t concentrating on my strokes. It wasn’t just because Bella hadn’t greeted me…I just knew.

  I always knew when it came to him.

  He sat at the end of the rock, in the one spot the moon didn’t hit, hidden by a shadow. Bella was at his side.

  “Do you think about my mouth when you’re looking at Brady’s?” he asked.

  Goose bumps covered my skin at the sound of his voice. His sexy tone vibrated along every nerve. I tucked in the ends of the towel and pulled the goggles and cap off my head, releasing my hair. The strands fell over my back and shoulders in layers, water dribbling from each one. The path of the droplets ran toward my bare navel and thighs. They made me search the darkness for his fingers.

  “I don’t think about you at all,” I lied.

  He walked over to me and stopped just a foot away. Then he knelt and reached for my chin, the tip of his thumb tracing the outer edge of my lip. “I don’t believe you.”

  He didn’t know me well enough to know I wasn’t telling the truth. I wondered what had given me away. Maybe it was my breathing, the short gasps that came not from the swimming but from him. Or maybe it was the way I couldn’t keep still, the waves in my stomach becoming almost unbearable. I wanted more of his touch. But if those fingers had been on another girl last night…did I really want them on me now?

  I pulled my face away and stood. When the towel loosened, I tugged it tighter across my body. “What do you want from me, Saint?”

  He searched my eyes as I tried to keep them from revealing anything more. Then he straightened his knees, towering over me by at least a foot. His hands slid into his pockets; his biceps strained against his shirt. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. You know, no repeat of the other night.”

  “The other night?” I took a step back, then another. Putting distance between us was the only way I could ensure there wouldn’t be a repeat of that kiss. “Oh, don’t worry. My lips won’t ever touch you again.”

  “Drew,” he whispered. “That’s not what I meant.” As I turned to walk up the peninsula, he wrapped his hands around my stomach and pulled my back against his chest. I felt the strength in his grip, the hardness of his pecs, his taut thighs as he leaned into me. His face dipped toward my neck. “I was talking about your drinking.”

  I tried not to focus on how my body was reacting to him. I thought instead about the last things he’d said to me: I’m not what you need, Drew. I’m stopping this before I hurt you. He had no reason to be concerned about my drinking. That was a friend or a boyfriend’s job, and he clearly wasn’t either.

  I hated to move out of his arms, but I wiggled from his grip anyway and turned to face him. “Stop worrying about me; I don’t need you to. I have a best friend who does plenty of that.”

  The swath of light that flashed across his face revealed his furrowed brow. “I’m not an asshole…if that’s what you think.”

  “I’m sure you’re not.”

  “I know you were drinking tonight. I was just a little worried.”

  The waves that were in my stomach were suddenly replaced with disappointment. I suspected the reason he’d gotten so close was to check my breath for evidence.

  “Relax,” I told him. “I had two beers. That’s all.”

  A twinge of pain crossed his face. It was a familiar expression, but it seemed a little unnecessary given our situation. “Doesn’t matter how many you’ve had. You still shouldn’t swim afterward.”

  “It’s not your place to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, Saint.” My voice began to rise. The towel loosened again, but I ignored it this time. “Actually, you should just stop talking to me. Everyone told me to stay away from you. I should have listened.”

  The pain left his eyes. A most determined grin took over his mouth. “You’re even sexier when you’re angry.”

  I shook my head. “I just don’t understand you. At all.”

  “I don’t understand you, either. You think it’s smart to listen to Rae and Brady? You actually think you can trust what they say?”

  I crossed my arms over my stomach. “Brady has been nothing but honest with me.” I left Rae out of it. She worked for him; I didn’t want to get her in trouble because of my need to trump Saint.

  “You sure about that?”

  The way he looked at me made it hard to breathe. His eyes didn’t just graze my surface; they pierced me. Nothing physical seemed to matter to him. He wanted what lived beneath. And yet he’d pushed me away…the same way he’d pushed them away.

  “He told me about your tourist girl hook-ups.” I just threw it out there.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. So was he lying about that?”

  He shrugged and didn’t even attempt a denial. I probably should have appreciated that. But I didn’t. I hated it. I wished Brady had lied and that Saint hadn’t screwed all those random girls. And I wished I could stop myself from caring about it so much…but I just couldn’t. There was nothing more for me to say without sounding ridiculously jealous. So I turned around and began walking again.

  “You’re not going to bed…not yet.” This time, he held me at the waist. It was enough to stop me from taking another step.

  “And why is that?”

  He slowly turned me around and his hands moved to my cheeks, gently caressing my face and tilting my lips until they aligned with his. His mouth was inches from mine. I felt his warmth everywhere.

  “Because I can’t let you go yet,” he said softly.

  He didn’t kiss me. He didn’t have to. I could feel what was passing between us without our breath mingling.

  When he said nothing more, I told him, “I’m not worried that you’ll hurt me, if that’s what you think.” Whenever I was with him, I felt so protected. Maybe the shield he built around me with his body was the same one that prevented anyone from getting too close to him.

  His body stiffened and he pulled his face away. “Maybe you should be.”

  “Saint, when I’m with you, I forget. I forget all of it…my whole past.”

  His exhale covered my mouth. “So do I.”

  I could feel him fighting something. His neck dipped again. His hands moved to the back of my head as he pulled me toward him. We met halfway, his lips hovering for several seconds before they fell against mine. The tension in his fingers strengthened, holding me tighter than he ever had before.

  His tongue circled mine while his lips surrounded me. But after several seconds, he pulled away, leaning his forehead against mine. My fingers moved to the bottom of his shirt, and I gripped the hem. I hoped the action would keep him close to me because all I wanted was to feel him, not the wetness from my towel, or the suit that clung to me, or the freezing air that was turning my skin even icier. Just him.

  “You’re too good for me, Drew.”

  “No…”

  Our faces finally separated. We didn’t, though. He brought my fingers up to his lips, kissing the skin between my nails and knuckles. “You need someone better than me.”

  And then he was gone. Again. When he reached the top of the peninsula, he crossed the grass that separated our properties. He never turned to me, never paused. The last thing I heard was his door shut.

  “But I want you…”

  I knew he couldn’t hear me. I didn’t say it loud enough for my voice to carry across the water. But I said it.

  For my sake, at least.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  WHEN SAINT HAD KISSED ME, caressed me, gripped my waist as if he wanted to rip the towel away, my body had been consumed with desire. I could think of nothing but him.

  But I must have been alone in those feelings.

  Because four nights later, I saw him in an alley just outside a pub and he was with a girl. She was pressed against the brick of the building, caged by his arms—and his mouth. Her long blonde curls bounced over his shoulders,
peeking out from the tiny gap between their bodies¸ and he was devouring her neck.

  My feet halted on the pavement not too far from them. My arms clenched around my stomach as I tried to hold down my food and control the emotions that were burning my skin.

  It seemed he wanted everyone but me.

  “Drew?” Brady said. He stood several steps ahead and was turned around, facing me. We were just leaving one of the bars on Main Street—this was how I’d spent the last few evenings since going out with my friend was better than sitting at the Coswells’ house. I could feel Brady’s eyes on me, probably wondering why I’d stopped walking. But I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t look at anything but Saint. “What are you…” His voice trailed off as he realized what was happening. “That’s what’s bothering you? That piece of shit over there?”

  I said nothing. But I didn’t need to. He could see it all over my face.

  Saint pulled himself away from the girl long enough to glance in our direction. We were standing closer than I thought, and Brady’s reaction hadn’t been quiet.

  “Fucking classy, isn’t he?” Brady shouted. “He’ll probably fuck her against that wall, too.” He started to pull me, leading me away from the alley. “I’m getting you out of here. You don’t need to see that scumbag and his whore.”

  “What the hell did you just say to her?” Saint yelled.

  I jumped from the sound of his voice as much as from what he’d said. He wasn’t asking why Brady had called his girl a whore…he was asking Brady what he’d said to me.

  Brady turned around to answer him, my hand still in his. “I called you a scumbag and that girl over there a whore,” he yelled back. “Was that loud enough for you?”

  Brady’s stare was solely focused on Saint. But Saint’s eyes were on me the whole time. They dropped to my hand…the one that was wrapped inside Brady’s. There were so many feelings competing inside me. I didn’t like any of them, and I especially didn’t like the sound I heard as I felt them.

  It was Saint’s laughter, unsettling and mocking.

  “I’m the scumbag here?” Saint asked. His voice was eerily calm.

  Brady tipped his head. “Yep. That’s what I said.”

  My eyes darted back and forth, waiting to see what this conversation would lead to. I didn’t think either of them was going to cower, which made me a bit nervous.

  Saint shrugged. “You can call me whatever you want, but I should rip your fucking arm off for touching her.”

  Why was he so concerned about me, when he clearly didn’t seem to want me?

  “What’s stopping you, motherfucker?” Brady shouted.

  “Remarkable restraint,” Saint replied.

  The last time Brady’s voice had been this angry, he’d showed up at the house the next day with bandaged knuckles. I knew this wasn’t going to end well. His posture went tense and primal, and Saint’s matched it. Brady stepped swiftly toward him, his hands landing on Saint’s chest as he tried to shove him backward. Saint didn’t budge. Standing so close to one another, the difference in their heights, their builds, and their mass was evident. But none of that seemed to scare off Brady. Brady shoved him again. And again.

  Saint didn’t move.

  I could see in Saint’s face he was losing his patience. “Get in there good, little man.” He was taunting Brady.

  Brady reared back his arm and cocked his fist, but I wedged my body between them with my back to Saint, hoping to break Brady’s violent focus. He looked right through me, his fist making circles in the air as if it was drawing power for what he was about to do.

  “Stop it!” I yelled at both of them.

  Saint’s hands went to my waist. He lifted me, my feet instantly leaving the ground as I writhed. “No, Saint…put me down. I don’t want you to fight—not now and not in front of me.”

  “I’m not going to touch him,” he answered. “I’m just moving you out of the way so he doesn’t hammer you while trying to get to me.” His breath hit my cheek, my neck. “I’m keeping you safe. That’s all.”

  “The only person she needs to be kept safe from is you, asshole!” Brady screamed. “And I’m going to make sure of that right now. After tonight, Drew, this fucker won’t ever touch you again.” His eyes never left Saint.

  “Let me go, please,” I plead. Saint finally set me down. He shifted to block me from Brady, like some sort of human shield. I couldn’t figure out why he was so concerned.

  While Saint stayed calm, Brady’s anger grew. His jaw clenched. He looked like he was gearing up to throw the first punch. I figured the only way I could get him to relax was to get him away from there. He’d drunk much more than I had. The alcohol was fueling his rage.

  I rushed around Saint and leaned into Brady’s chest. “We’re leaving… let’s go.” I used my weight to back him up, glancing over my shoulder. “I’m driving you home.” I said it to Saint as much as to Brady.

  We got only a few feet down the sidewalk before one of Saint’s hands clutched my waist from behind. The other found its way around my ribs. “You’ve been drinking, too,” he said in my ear. It wasn’t a question.

  “Let her go,” Brady shouted from in front of me.

  “I only had a few—“

  Saint’s hands tightened. “A few is too many. You’re not driving anywhere tonight…and he’s not driving you, either.”

  “Who the fuck are you to tell her what she’s doing,” Brady yelled.

  I was the only thing keeping Brady from starting a fight I knew he couldn’t finish. And I couldn’t push Saint’s hands off my waist; his grip was far stronger than mine. There was a part of me that wanted him to let go, sickened by the sight of him kissing another woman. The rest of me enjoyed the roughness of his clamped fingers and the fact he was trying to protect me.

  Saint’s movements were fast; before I knew what was happening, I was fully in his arms once again, pulled tightly against his chest with my feet dangling in the open air. “Like I said, little man, she’s not going anywhere with you.” Saint didn’t have to yell; there was enough anger and intensity in his tone to convey it without volume.

  Brady’s cheeks flushed deep red. “Drew! Tell that fucker you want to leave with me.” He waited several seconds. “Tell him, Drew. Tell him I’m taking you home.” I knew Brady couldn’t drive and that I really shouldn’t either.

  The alternative was being alone with Saint…I wasn’t sure I wanted that either.

  My vision shifted between both men, my pulse quickening as I thought. “Brady…” But I didn’t have a chance to say any more because Saint had turned around, carrying me in the opposite direction. And I just let him. Instead of looking back, I kept my eyes on the road. I knew there would be hurt all over Brady’s face and I didn’t want to see it.

  We passed the girl Saint had been making out with. He said nothing to her. She still stared us both down. I wasn’t sure why she had stuck around when Brady first started yelling. Saint had run from her to defend me. Obviously, she didn’t mean that much to him.

  “I can walk,” I said after several paces, my feet still hanging in the air. His cheek nuzzled against mine, the sharp hairs brushing over my sensitive skin. The twinge of pain felt good. It gave me something to focus on beyond the confusion.

  “Stop fighting me…and put your arms around my neck.”

  There was something sexy about the way he issued orders, and how he’d smiled with his arms clinging to my waist. Then I thought about how those same lips had been eating that girl’s neck in the alley.

  That part wasn’t so sexy.

  With each breath, his chest pushed against my back. His exhales came quicker as he wrapped the seatbelt over me, sections of his body touching me while others hovered just inches away. He shut the door, and I slid my fingers around the safety bar and squeezed. Even his truck was larger than Brady’s, and the interior was customized. The seats were dark red leather with black stitching; a TV sat in the front panel. It smelled just like him: un
predictable and rough.

  He climbed into the driver’s seat. “What the hell was that all about?” I asked. Their little tiff went way beyond the general animosity they held for each other. It seemed like they were fighting over me.

  He leaned back into his seat and drove one-handed out of the parking lot. “I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but if I have anything to say about it, you won’t ever get behind the wheel or in the water after you’ve been drinking.”

  This wasn’t about his issues with alcohol, whatever they were. “I’m not talking about driving drunk, and I’m pretty sure you know that. Why were you protecting me from him?”

  He shook his head. “I just don’t like that kid.”

  I turned to face him. “That’s it?”

  “That…and I can’t stand you hanging around him.”

  “Why?”

  He noticed I was shivering and turned on the heater. I watched the muscles in his jaw flex and his lips part, but he closed them without saying a word.

  “That’s all you’re going to say about this?”

  The headlights from the passing cars flashed across his forehead and eyes, creating bands of gleaming white. Many months ago, I would have reached for my camera phone to capture the beauty. I had no desire to reach for anything at the moment.

  “It doesn’t matter what I say,” he finally answered. “You two obviously have some sort of thing happening.”

  That burned me. “He’s a friend, Saint—that’s all.”

  He let out a sigh that sounded like a chuckle. “That kid is your friend?”

  “Yeah, you know, a guy I hang out with once in a while who I don’t fuck…and don’t even want to fuck. That’s what a friend is.” I glared at him. “Do you have any of those?”

  “I did once,” he said. It was a dig, but he took it as a serious question. “I thought she was a good friend. Turned out she wanted my dick, too. And when I finally gave it to her, things just got messy, so I ended it.”

  This was a lot of information all of a sudden, but it didn’t clarify things as much as he thought it would. “Seems like you give that away a lot.” I regretted the words as soon as they left me. They made me seem overwhelmingly jealous which wasn’t how I wanted to come across. But it was the truth, and it was out there now.