Pull Me Under (Love In Kona Book 1)

by Piper Lennox

  Kai

  Her skin is still damp from the rain when I undress her, goose bumps rising as I kiss my way down her neck to her breasts.

  I’ve known her less than a week. I know this will end.

  But when I try to picture her getting on that plane, I can’t.

  “Kai,” she whimpers, while I kiss my way down her stomach. She smells like the rain and some kind of vanilla perfume.

  I tease her for a second, letting my breath wash across her sex. My tongue plunges into her. She gasps, thighs clamping around my head, then slowly relaxes under my touch.

  My fingers slip inside easily. Mollie squirms and bucks her hips, and I know, without any words, what she wants.

  I pull my erection from my pants and press it against her. The second my fingers slip out, I guide myself inside, never leaving her completely empty. Never once letting her pleasure stop.

  It’s fun pretending I’m in control, but we both know I’m as much under her influence as she is under mine. And if I doubted it before, as soon she wraps her legs around my torso to pull herself up against me—to pull me in even deeper—there’s no way I can deny it now.

  Mollie

  Kai fills me and closes his eyes. “Oh, my God,” he breathes. “I really did miss you today.” He slows his driving rhythm and adds, with a shy kind of smile, “I, uh…I thought about you. This morning.”

  “‘Thought’ about me?” He bites his lip, eyebrows raising, and I catch on. “Really? What were you thinking about?” My skin tingles at the image: Kai pumping himself to thoughts of me, in this very same spot. The muscles in his arm straining, his chest heaving....

  “Everything,” he admits. “Running my tongue over your entire body…” He lowers his head and licks my collarbone, resting his mouth there. “…keeping you coming all night long.”

  His voice deepens, with a roll of thunder punctuating his words. It sends a surge through my core; my legs tighten around his midsection. “The whole night?”

  “Oh, yeah.” His smirk melts me into the pillows. “I haven’t stopped thinking about the way you held my hand when you came, out in the cabana. There was something so sexy and…and sweet about it. Like you were just totally lost in the feeling and had to hold onto me to make it through.” His face reddens, or at least seems to in the darkness of the storm, but his words dip to a low, rich growl. “So I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to get you coming over and over…just back-to-back orgasms…until you’re clinging to me for dear life.”

  “And where were we?” I whisper, barely able to speak with his fantasy floating through my head. “Here, in your room?”

  “Actually…we were on my surfboard. Out in the water.”

  I laugh; I can’t help it. “How would that work?”

  “Easy,” he smiles. “I’d lie down…like this.” Kai sinks all the way into me, snaking his arms through the sheets and around my back. Effortlessly, he rolls us over together. “And you’d be on top. Like this.”

  “Okay….”

  “And then—because the ocean would make it really hard to stay balanced—you’d actually be facing the other way, and lying on top of me.”

  I give him a skeptical look as he grips my hips and lifts me until I get the hint and do as he says. “You were thinking about actual physics in your fantasy?”

  “I’m a realist,” he quips, as I lie back against him. He re-enters me from behind. “For example: I would probably have to hold onto you, so you could keep your balance.”

  My heartbeat thunders as Kai wraps his left arm across me, just under my breasts, and holds on tightly. As though we’re actually teetering here over an ocean, instead of safely in his bed. The sight of his forearm flexing against my ribcage makes me wish we were.

  “You can’t go very deep, at this angle,” I point out. “And as soon as you move, we’d fall in the water.”

  “That’s not what this angle is for. It’s so I can touch you, like this.” His free hand reaches between my legs. I feel his mouth turn to a smile against my skin, the seldom-touched spot behind my ear, when my muscles clamp hard around his erection. “The ocean would handle all the moving.” His hips rock gently underneath me, so that his penetration takes on an easy rhythm. He can’t go all the way inside—but, when he’s touching me like this, breathing against my neck, whispering his fantasy into my ear…he doesn’t need to.

  I reach overhead and wind my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the rainwater still there. “Kai,” I gasp, “I’m gonna come….”

  My nails scratch at his scalp, but soon all I can do is cup his head and bring him closer, pressing his mouth against my ear as the quiver of my sex turns to an earthquake, a full storm all the way through me.

  “That’s it, Mollie.” His arm tightens around my body. “I’ve got you.”

  His hand pauses between my legs as I finish. He trails it lightly over my skin, no rhythm or pressure, as I catch my breath. I feel his erection flinch inside me.

  Then, he begins again.

  Kai

  Mollie writhes against me when my fingers make contact with her clitoris again. First, her legs spasm: things are still too sensitive. But I keep my pace steady, the pressure consistent, and soon she tells me she’s close to another one.

  Her face looks like she might cry, like she’s in pain—but the way she’s shuddering on top of me confirms this definitely isn’t the case.

  I ramp up my pace, moving my hips just a little harder. We’re past the point of “realistic physics,” here: if we were actually on a surfboard, I couldn’t plant my feet to get the leverage I am. But in my bed and the privacy of the room, real life over fantasy, I can do so much more.

  “Kai,” she warns, as her head tips back over my shoulder, exposing her neck to me. I plant my mouth on it as she orgasms again.

  I pull her back down when she finishes, realigning our bodies and going as deep as I can. “I’ve never given a girl multiple orgasms, before.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” she pants, and we laugh. Hers is drowned out in the sounds of the storm.

  My hand resumes contact. I know this will be the last orgasm of Mollie’s I can make it through without releasing. Every push of my hips against her, each shudder of her warmth around me, puts me on the edge and leaves me there, struggling to get my balance. To stay in control.

  “Close,” she manages, moaning towards my ceiling as I rub her harder and thrust in time to our breaths.

  “Me, too.” I press my mouth back against her ear and whisper, “Come for me, baby.”

  She whispers my name this time, like the air is stolen from her lungs as it hits, that single spark that kicks up a fire.

  I know, because it sweeps me right along with it.

  Mollie

  “Oh, God,” I cry out, when it’s finally over. I can’t seem to let go of his head, as though my body’s been paralyzed with pleasure. Maybe it has.

  “You okay?” He tries to lift me off, but I’m completely deadweight. “You’re shaking.”

  “Damn right, I’m shaking!” I blurt, breathless, and both of us laugh.

  “Glad my fantasy got you going.” There’s a look of smugness on his face. “I can’t lie, I was hoping to last a little longer than that.”

  “Longer? How many orgasms were you planning to give me?”

  He considers this. “Five? Six?”

  “I’d probably pass out,” I say, laughing again through my gasps.

  Kai shrugs. “Well, we’ll find out, someday.”

  It’s about twenty more seconds before we realize what he said. Someday.

  “The only thing crazier than feeling like this for someone after three days,” he says, closing his eyes and pushing his face into my hair, “is doing it when you know they’ll be gone in four.”

  The sudden change between us is palpable, like the weight of the air before the storm. My muscles loosen; I let my legs slide onto the bed and push off as he pulls out. I think of him cal
ling me “baby” just a few minutes ago, how something so simple electrified every inch of me. Now, I wonder if it was just automatic for him—something to say during sex, just a word in his vocabulary of dirty talk.

  We lie side-by-side, our panting the only thing louder than the storm, until our lungs stop burning. The rain hammers on the roof.

  “So,” I say, if only to distract myself from the scary thumps on the walls, bracing my muscles every time the lightning strikes, “Luka’s taking over the resort now?”

  “How’d you know about that?”

  “He told me.” I pull my fingers through my hair, smelling the rain. “I was kind of surprised you turned it down, though.”

  “I was, too.” He gets up and puts on a fresh shirt and boxers. I catch a trace of his cologne or deodorant and have to keep myself focused. Getting wrapped up in the moment—in him—is what got us into this mess to begin with.

  “How did your dad take the news?”

  “He doesn’t know yet.” He passes me a dry shirt and some sweatpants, watching as I dress. “I’m going to tell him, just...not right now. He’s still pretty weak. I don’t want to give him another stroke.”

  “Kai.” I reach out and place my fingers over his on the bed. “You didn’t cause his stroke.”

  “Yes, I did. Right before I quit, I was yelling at him, bringing up Noe....” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have stressed him out like that.”

  “If you did stress him out enough to cause it, then it was only a matter of time before it would have happened, anyway,” I reason. “If it hadn’t been you, it would’ve been...I don’t know, like, a shipment coming in late, or some big budget crisis, or—”

  “Or a resort guest nearly dying on his property?”

  I throw one of his pillows at his face, both of us laughing again.

  He bites his lip, his smile dimming. “Maybe you’re right. I still feel bad about it, though.”

  Something comes back to me: “So that’s it. Dad has a stroke, it’s my fault. The business sucks, it’s my fault. Noe dies? Yeah. My fault.”

  “Kai?”

  He’s lying down again, legs hanging off the edge of the bed with the pillow across his face. “Hmm?”

  I lie down beside him. My hand hesitates before touching him, spreading my fingers across his chest. “Yesterday, when you and Luka got in that fight? I was kind of...eavesdropping.”

  He pulls the pillow off. “That’s why you thought I hooked up with a bunch of tourists all the time? Because of what Luka said?”

  “Yeah,” I admit, “but that’s not what I was going to say.” The air feels too hot, suddenly, despite the fan spinning above us and the fact my hair is still wet. I take a breath. “You said...you said that your brother dying was your fault. What did you mean?”

  His heart kicks up under my hand. “Actually,” he says, after a moment, “those two things are sort of connected.” I can’t see his face anymore, the room too dark, but I can hear the strain in his voice. I’ve asked him something he never wanted to say out loud, I’m sure.

  “You don’t have to tell me.” I rest my head on his arm as it encircles me, forgetting about the somedays we’ll never get, the questions about him I’ll never get answered. Right now, being here beside him is enough.

  It has to be.

  “I can tell you. I’m just...not sure you’ll think of me the same way, after you hear it.”

  I push myself into his side and assure him I won’t.

  “Okay.” He clears his throat, takes a breath, and speaks more to the darkness than me. “It started with this girl, a tourist. Andrea.”

  “Was she your girlfriend?”

  He hesitates. “She was Noe’s.”

  It might only be a second that I don’t respond, but seems so much longer. “Oh,” I manage, finally.

  “Told you. I’m not the nice guy in this story.” He draws in a breath. “Sure you want to hear the rest?”

  I feel his pulse quicken again, like a knot of thunder tucked into my palm. “Only if you want to tell me the rest.”

  Twenty

  Kai

  That afternoon, while I baked in the sun and sweated my birthday out through my pores, Noe surfed endlessly. He swept all over the place and caught whatever came in. Steep waves, closeouts, snappers he’d usually ignore because he always said they weren’t worth his time: he didn’t stop.

  Hours passed. Still, I sat there on the sand and watched, waiting. At first I drafted explanations, excuses. None of them could fix this. So after the second or third hour, I just rehearsed my apology.

  I’d beg for his forgiveness and swear it meant nothing. I’d take as many of his morning shifts as he wanted me to, as atonement. Somehow, I was going to make this right.

  That is, if he ever came back in.

  Luka found me around Hour Four. “Mom wants you guys home,” he said to me, squinting out at the water. “She’s calling for a family meeting. Sounds serious.”

  I wondered if he knew. “Okay. As soon as Noe comes back in.”

  “Swim out and tell him.”

  “I already tried swimming out to him. He ignored me.” I nodded at the tide, then at Luka. “You swim out.”

  “These shorts are new.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who wants him to come in.”

  “Well...you’re the one who fucked his girlfriend.”

  I threw a fistful of sand at his legs, hard, while he laughed and left. Luka never took anything seriously, back then.

  Noe slipped off his board and went under, bobbing back to the surface after the tide rolled in. He rarely fell anymore; another perk of being Mr. Perfect. The wave hadn’t been particularly big or anything. I figured he was getting tired, losing focus.

  Good, I thought. He’ll have to come back in soon.

  He wasn’t the only one getting tired. The heat, combined with the hangover, was draining me fast. I put my head on my knees and tried to will the headache away.

  I almost fell asleep, but jerked my head back up when I remembered my mission. The second Noe came in, I was going to plant myself in his path and refuse to move until he heard me out. He didn’t have to forgive me. He just had to listen.

  The water was empty. I got to my feet and looked around; no sign of him down the beach. Maybe he’d already left.

  I started up towards the dunes, heading for our old cut-through back home. But then I saw something, out where he’d been before.

  It was a hand. Just a flash of skin, there and gone in a second.

  My feet took me to the water’s edge without me having to think about it. I stared at the spot and waited.

  You imagined it. The swell was easy, that day. He could handle it.

  I turned back. Bright sun, clear water, my eyes strained from liquor: it could have been anything.

  But then I saw something else, skimming the water on the shoreline a few yards away.

  His surfboard.

  I ran to it like it was him. The leash was broken.

  My heart was pumping broken glass as I ran into the water and dove. I didn’t notice my headache anymore, or the sea salt running through my cuts and scrapes.

  “Noe!” I called, when I finally reached the spot. I looked around, but the flash I’d seen earlier—his hand, I was sure—didn’t pop up again.

  I inhaled and went under. The water was vibrant and glowing, shafts of sunlight filtering through into the depths. I couldn’t see him.

  Surfacing just long enough for another breath, I dove again. This time, I pushed the air out of my lungs and made myself sink deeper. I reached out and felt for him in the darkness until my chest burned.

  Then I saw him, unmoving, the tide pulling him down.

  I tried to get to him, but knew I’d need more air. I kicked my way back up, sputtering and shouting for help, barely getting the word out before diving again.

  My arms looped around his chest. The tide caught and pitched us forward. Water forced its way into my lungs when I c
ouldn’t resist taking a breath.

  I knew I needed to drop him and surface again, just once, so I could get myself some air. But even the instinct to breathe, to save myself first so I could save him, wasn’t enough to make me let go.

  Finally, we were out of the worst breaks, the shore just close enough for me to brace my feet against the bottom and push.

  I started throwing up as soon as our faces hit air. Even then, I didn’t let go.

  Everything would be okay when we were back on the shore. I’d saved him. He’d be fine, as soon as I got him out of this water.

  The crowd that had gathered parted ways when I dragged Noe onto the shore. “Call an ambulance,” I choked. My arms released him. I fell to my knees and threw up again while one of the onlookers turned Noe over and started CPR.

  A tourist with a camera around his wrist helped me stand when I finished, empty, a mess of liquor, bile, and seawater on the sand where I’d fallen. “My brother,” I managed, and he turned me around, showing me.

  The woman giving him CPR stopped, put her head against his heart, and started the process again.

  As I moved closer, the crowd fell away. The beach, the island, the ocean—they didn’t exist anymore.

  “Open your eyes, man,” I heard myself saying, as I fell to my knees again. The woman glanced at me. She did it at least four more times: hold his nose, breathe in, push on his chest, listen. Repeat.

  Each time, I watched his eyes and waited.

  In the ambulance, they tried more. I kept watching.

  Please, I begged silently. Whether I was praying to God or sending my thoughts to Noe, I wasn’t sure.

  In the ER, a doctor put his hand on my shoulder and told me statistics I ignored, odds of brain damage, timelines. “Keep trying,” I screamed at him, throwing his hand off me and starting for the alcove where they’d taken his stretcher. If they were going to give up, I’d do it.

  The doctor pushed on my chest and stopped me. “They’ll try a little longer,” he promised. “In the meantime, let’s see what we can do for you.”