by Marni Mann
“Get in here, it’s freezing,” he said. He pulled me into the boat and shut the door behind Bella as she traipsed inside. “You don’t look okay.”
“I’m not.”
He sat me on a bench just on the other side of the kitchen and plopped down right next to me. “Tell me what happened.”
Bella didn’t follow us. She moved around the boat, sniffing anything she could reach.
We ignored her as our eyes locked. I wrapped my arms over my stomach. “You’re not going to want to hear this.”
“If it has to do with you, then yes, I do.”
I leaned back into the seat and glanced up at the ceiling, my eyes tracing the small recessed lights. When I finally met his face again, I started telling him about dinner and everything that had followed up until I had arrived at his boat. His face hardened when I told him the digs Brady had made, comparing me to Rae and the tourists, and saying that I was really whoring myself out. Saint stayed completely silent the entire time I spoke. I could tell that was really hard for him to do.
When I finally finished speaking, his arm slid around my waist and he pulled me closer to his body. “This isn’t your fault, not even a little. Brady would have driven no matter what, even if you had tried to stop him. You know that.”
I shrugged. “What about the things he said? That you wrecked Rae…that you’d do the same to me. What does that even mean?” I knew he wouldn’t go into further detail. I just wanted him to know how confused I was.
He moved again, this time sliding down to the floor where he kneeled so he could face me. His hands pressed into my knees. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. Whether you break my heart or I break yours, that’s not really something we can say right now. But I want to be with you. And you completely own my mind. I promise you, that’s the truth.” He kissed beneath my eyes, catching the tears that were just starting to appear. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. “Drew, there’s so much you don’t know about Brady. If you did, you wouldn’t be blaming yourself right now.”
“Tell me.”
He pressed his forehead against my thighs, thinking for several seconds. Maybe he didn’t know how much he wanted to say. There were many times in the last few weeks that he could have defined his history with Brady. He never did, and I realized now that he’d never really said anything bad about Brady, either.
“That period I told you about when I felt trapped? I spent it with Brady and his friends…and Rae.” He lifted his head and met my eyes again. They were filled with pain. “All I wanted to do was party, so I chose them. I knew they had access to whatever I wanted: weed, pills, anything that would take away the ache.” His hands squeezed down on my knees, and he licked his lips. I could hear his throat becoming dry as he spoke. “Everything around me started to slip. That’s what I meant when I said I was being pulled beneath the waves.” It was starting to make much more sense. “When my grandfather threatened to take away the business, I quit all that shit—the partying, the chemicals. The whole lifestyle. It was around that time that the cops got tipped off that Brady and his friends were dealing. There was an investigation, and charges hung over Brady’s head. He had no choice but to clean himself up. That was a few years ago. But I’ve heard recently that Brady started using again. You’d know more than me, since you spend more time with him.” He reached around to the back of my knees, pulling me off the seat and into his lap.
“He thinks you tipped them off,” I said. “That’s why he hates you?”
He nodded. “What happened between Rae and me didn’t help, either. He’s had a thing for her for a long time.”
I was so close to him now, straddling his waist as his scent filled me. His skin smelled freshly-showered, his breath was a gust of mint. The blend was tantalizing…inviting.
But I had to know for sure. “Was it you?” I asked.
He laughed. “I’m a lot of things, and not all of them are good. But I’m not a snitch.”
I suddenly realized the signs had been everywhere that Brady was doing a lot more than just drinking—the way he continuously rubbed his nose, his bloodshot eyes, his temper—and I had chosen to ignore all of them. It fit that Brady never told me the reason he hated Saint. He would have had to tell me everything he’d been involved in…and likely still was.
“Hey,” Saint said, lifting my chin so I looked at his eyes. I was still deep in thought. “Did I just freak you out?”
I dragged my fingers through the back of his hair. “About you? Not at all.”
His lips grazed mine. “I hoped not.”
My phone beeped from my back pocket. A text message appeared on the screen. It was from Shane.
He’s home, and he’s fine. No more reason to worry. Get some sleep. See you tomorrow.
Saint read it while I held the phone to our side. “You must be relieved, huh?” he asked.
I met his eyes again. “For now, yes. But I’m worried about him. He needs help…this is going to keep happening until someone gets hurt.”
“If I learned anything from my dad, it’s that you can’t make him want to get clean. He has to want it for himself.”
That was probably true, but I could talk to Shane and see if he would help me speak to Brady. I wasn’t sure if that would be the best route to take; getting his father involved added a whole second layer of messiness.
I’d have to try talking to Brady first. And I would. But not now.
I wrapped my arms around Saint’s neck and began to really take in my surroundings. This was the first time I’d been inside his boat. I was too consumed with Brady when I’d first gotten here to appreciate his home. “Will you show me around?”
He laughed. The sound was so refreshing and honest. “There isn’t much to show you, but if you’d like a tour, I’ll happily give you one.” When he stood from the floor, he brought me with him. My legs curved around his waist as he squeezed his body against mine. “I like that you’re here.”
I smiled and gave him a little kiss as he set me down. With my hand in his, he led me into the living room and to the door at the back wall. Beyond it was his bedroom; a gray comforter and black pillows decorated the bed, and a flat screen TV quietly played on the wall. The interior of the main cabin was clean and contemporary. It was a narrow space for sure, but it was comfortable and felt new, with warm medium-toned wood lining the walls and the floor. Black leather couches and another flat screen TV filled the living room, and a small table separated the kitchen.
As I turned to move back toward the couch, he grabbed me from behind. His other hand sank into my hair and he pulled all of it over to one shoulder. My eyes closed. His lips pressed into the newly exposed skin, and I tilted my head to give him more access.
“You taste so good,” he whispered into me.
My breath became labored.
Every time his lips came in contact, a wave of tingles spread through me. My nipples hardened from the sensation. I had to keep my hands clenched at my sides so I wouldn’t reach for the part of him that pressed up against my lower back.
“I want to taste you when you’re covered in water,” he said deeply, softly.
I moaned from the movement of his tongue. “Water?”
“Come swimming with me.”
I pictured my body floating on the surface of the ocean, Saint’s fingers mixing with the coolness of the water.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“I have a wetsuit here that will fit you.”
I wasn’t even thinking about wetsuits. I was too occupied with watching him step out of his sweatpants and the bulge that was waiting underneath.
I felt his stare all over me as I slowly worked my way out of each layer: the scarf first, then the sweater and the tight tank top underneath it, the knee-high leather boots and jeans. I finally stood before him in nothing but panties and a bra.
He held the suit in his hands but made no effort to help me get into it. He just gazed at me.
“You’ve changed your mind?
” I asked.
He was once again meeting my eyes, but it wasn’t how he’d ever looked at me before. He was glancing up through his lashes with an intensity that made my body shiver. “No, I…”
I gazed back at him. “I what?”
He shook his head. “You’d better put this on. Now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
BELLA FOLLOWED ME AND SAINT down the dock. I’d taken blankets from his boat, and when we reached the middle of the peninsula, I used them to create a nest for her. The cold weather didn’t seem to bother her, but I buried her under a layer just to be safe and kissed her nose before we dove in.
The wetsuit kept my body from freezing, but it didn’t stop the wind from scraping along my bare skin or numbing my fingers and toes. To warm them, I pushed off the rock and began a freestyle crawl across the pool of water. Saint stayed a few paces behind me. I didn’t bother counting my strokes or timing my breath. I didn’t even swim my fastest. I just focused on reaching for the sea, pulling it through my fingers and enjoying the way it swished past my suit. I loved the feeling it stirred against this new skin, and the sound of Saint’s splashing, and the way I could hear his hands surface every time I took a side breath.
Finally, I wasn’t alone.
I flipped when I reached the wall, streamlining until I ran out of air. Then I turned over into a backstroke so I could watch his body glide, his feet kick, his fingers spread and stiffen again. When I reached the other side, I held the rock behind my back, clinging to the slippery surface as he dolphin kicked toward me. He didn’t scissor the water; he was humping it, using a rhythm I couldn’t get out of my head.
A flash entered my mind: his fingers…his lips. The way he exhaled into my neck.
He stopped several lengths in front of me, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. “All loosened up?” he asked. The moonlight revealed the intensity on his face. I wondered if he could read what was happening inside me.
I nodded. “Come here.”
“Do you have something you want to tell me?”
There were so many things I wanted to tell him, to whisper over his skin. That wasn’t what he meant, though…and that something wasn’t ready to come out just yet.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Then come show me what you want instead.”
I kicked off, taking slow and steady breaststrokes until I reached him. He treaded in place, his only movement as his eyes bore into me. Then his lips parted, his tongue teasing the inside of his mouth. His scruff was too thick to see his smile lines, but I knew they were there. I felt them between my fingers when I caressed his face to press my lips against him.
My legs wrapped around his waist; my fingers moved into his hair, pulling him even closer to me. His mouth found my neck as he kissed the skin just below my ear, softly tracing the path to the collar of the suit. He pulled at the material to reveal more of my chest.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
I lay my head into the water, his tongue licking from my collarbone all the way up to my chin. I tilted my neck to meet his eyes. “Definitely not.”
The pad of his thumb brushed over my nipples. “Then you won’t care if I rip this thing off you?”
“You don’t feel like swimming anymore? Is that what you’re saying?” I couldn’t hide my smirk.
“Never said I wanted to swim at all. What I said was I wanted to taste you in the water. I’ve done that…and now I need to taste more.” His mouth returned to my neck. The hairs around his lips and cheeks rubbed against me, rough on my skin. It was a welcomed pain.
He lifted me onto the rock and pulled himself out of the water. Then he picked me up again, and I bound myself around him as he carried me back to the boat. The icy air blew past my wet hair and I waited for a shiver to flood my body. It never came. Instead, there was more grasping, more nuzzling, more of his tongue circling mine.
He shut the door as Bella trotted in behind us, and he carried me to the back. A second door shut as I realized we were in his room. He set me on my feet, and I stood next to his bed in complete darkness. He turned on a strip of lights recessed in the wooden panels of the wall. The room glowed.
He closed the gap between us and I backed up until I couldn’t move anymore. His arms extended over me, creating a cage made of hands and lips. He wasn’t gentle when he kissed me now, and I didn’t want him to be. I was so consumed with the sensations that were inspired by his touch, the fluttering and the tingling that spread toward each end of me.
He turned me around and tugged down the zipper, his breath covering every inch of skin that was revealed. His tongue flattened against my back, molding to a point when he dragged the tip of it toward my neck, then it spread wide again as he headed back down. He followed the same pattern again and again until I had removed my arms and the suit hung at my waist. Then he turned me around to face him, stripping me out of the rest.
After he’d pulled me free, it was his turn. “Take this off me,” he said firmly.
It was a demand, and a sensual one at that. I responded by reaching around his shoulders and pulling down the zipper. My eyes caressed his tattoos as he shed the second skin he wore. My hands were drawn to them instinctively. The waves that covered his biceps, chest and shoulders mirrored the motion that I felt in my stomach, the white tips of each crest representing the perfect storm we were caught in.
His suit fell to the ground. There was nothing but red lace and boxer briefs separating us.
He lifted me and held me against the wall. The tip of his nose and the top of his hair grazed over my skin as his mouth lowered to my chest. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” His words breezed over my nipples, trailing down to my lower stomach.
My desire was building.
I didn’t want to make any more decisions. I didn’t want to think. I just wanted Saint to release the current in my body, to let my muscles ripple over each swell and surge.
His fingers crawled up my back until they discovered the clasp of my bra. He unhooked it with one hand and threw it across the room. The warmth from his mouth never left me; it covered my neck like a fog, trickling across my collarbone and dipping lower until it hovered directly above my right breast.
I was lost in his lips.
I closed my eyes as he sucked and tugged on my nipple. He still wasn’t gentle; his touch was nothing like a soft flicker of hair against my skin. It was strong and urgent and direct. It was exactly what I was hoping for. And with each pass of his tongue came a new sense of passion. I was moaning for more.
He rested me over his bed, exhaling my name over my navel, his lips creeping lower until they paused between my legs. His tongue flicked across me. I lost focus on where I was, the location of his hands, the soft light that glowed through my eyelids. I grabbed his hair, held the strands between my fingers, and sunk my nails into my palm. My back arched. My thighs squeezed his cheeks. And when the numbness spread through me, a satisfying sigh coming from my mouth, he climbed on top of me. I waited for the sound of foil tearing, for heavier breathing, for the feeling of his hardness teasing my edge. But there was only silence and heat from the cradle of his arms.
I opened my eyes, rubbed my nose over his cheek and traced the lines of his tattooed waves. “I’m not selfish, you know,” I said.
He chuckled against my ear. “I don’t think you are.”
I smiled. “I just mean…I’m not one to take and not give anything back.”
He pushed himself off me and kneeled, placing one of my legs on each side of him. From this position, I could take in the magnificence of his whole body: the definition in his chest, the outline of each ab, the light dusting of hair that trailed to the waistband of his boxer briefs. The thin cotton couldn’t hide the hardness they contained, and I didn’t pretend that I wasn’t staring at it. “You can have whatever you want,” I affirmed.
He smirked. “I took exactly what I wanted, Drew…and my mouth plans to take it again right now.”
&
nbsp; CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
WHEN I FINALLY OPENED MY EYES, Bella and I were alone in Saint’s bed, and there was a note on top of his pillow. Neat, straight, all capital letters covered the small white paper:
I WISH I COULD WAKE YOU UP THE SAME WAY I PUT YOU TO SLEEP…
IF YOU HAVE TIME, STOP BY THE RESTAURANT AROUND THREE.
-JUSTIN
He had never used his given name before. It felt like he was letting me further into his real life, even deeper than he had last night. A wave of heat passed through me as I recalled the final moments before I’d fallen asleep. He had said his mouth was going to take me again, and it did. He didn’t stop at two orgasms…or three. He waited until I had nothing left in me—no voice, no breath, no feeling in any of my limbs, and then he moved behind me, his arm curved around my stomach, his leg woven around mine, and we cuddled.
His smell still surrounded me, coating my skin. I breathed it in, stretching my legs and arms, and I stepped out of the bed and moved toward the kitchen. When I saw the time on the microwave, I froze.
There was no way it could have been ten o’clock in the morning.
That would have meant I’d slept more than seven straight hours. I hadn’t done that in months.
I yanked my cell out of the back pocket of my jeans. The screen confirmed the time. Saint’s bed was much more comfortable than the Coswells’ couch, and the gentle swaying of the boat had probably helped keep me in a deep slumber. But I suspected those weren’t the only reasons I had slept so well. I suspected it had more to do with Saint.
As much as I wanted to think about how true that really was and what exactly it signified, I had to focus on putting on the rest of my clothes. Brady and Shane were due at the house and would have been there for hours already. I needed to talk to Brady about what had happened last night.
Bella followed me down the dock and across the lawn as we snuck in through the back door. When I rounded the corner of the laundry room, I noticed Shane on his knees in the kitchen installing new slats of wood flooring. He glanced at us as we entered, and so did the guy who was kneeling on the other side of the island. It wasn’t Brady.