9781631056314TattooedHeartsJolieNC

by Mika Jolie

  The ringtone on her phone snapped Claire out of her daze. Without checking, she knew it was Forrest. Her heart lurched and a host of butterflies swarmed in the pit of her stomach. “I didn’t expect a phone call,” she greeted her favorite doctor.

  “This is not a booty call,” he said on the other end of the phone. His tone, although dour, still made her belly go mushy.

  Claire couldn’t help but smile. “What is it then?”

  He exhaled and she could envision him lounging in worn jeans, flipping through a book, with the TV on in the background.

  “I spent the evening baking pies.”

  “Oh.” Yikes, did he have a date? She could almost see Forrest in the kitchen, relaxed with a half day’s stubble tilted in a wry grin while baking pies and raising some lucky girl’s temperature at the same time. Ugh! Claire curled her fingers around the fabric of her cotton tank. “Um…”

  “With my mother.”

  Her heart did a little happy dance. Relief. “How did that go?” From what she knew, this was the first time in a month Forrest had made any attempt to see his mother. As for Charles and Jason—well, that was another battle he probably wasn’t ready to face.

  “Awkward.”

  She nodded to herself on the other end, understanding how hard it must have been for him. “Sounds like you need a friend.”

  “I could use one,” he admitted after a short silence.

  “There’s no way to get off Chappy right now,” she said mostly to herself because if there were, she’d be on the ferry right away. Besides being late, the water was partially frozen due to the dip in the temperature. Not even the Montgomery boat could cross Norton Point Beach and the nine hundred feet that separated them.

  “Good thing.” There was a strange note in his voice that made her warm all over.

  “Why?”

  “We’d probably end up in bed,” he said on a groan. “Not probably, definitely.”

  The admission caught her off guard. Every nerve ending in her body jumped to attention. “That would make us friends with benefits.”

  “Not a good idea.”

  “Would that be such a bad thing?” Oh, she was playing with fire. But the heady desire she’d kept buried for so long flared and if she couldn’t be next to him then why not improvise and go for a little phone sex.

  “Yes,” he answered without a beat.

  “We already had sex.” For the first time in ten years, and she wanted more. “Would it be so bad if we were to do it again?”

  “Claire…”

  His tone was full of warning, but it caressed her goose-bumped skin. What she wouldn't give to see his face right now. His expression controlled and brooding. “Send me a picture.” She pushed.

  “Of?”

  “You.” She giggled when he released a breath. “You thought I meant…”

  “Drop it.”

  But she couldn’t. If anything, she wanted to whoop it up. “I meant a selfie. But...” She purposely let her voice trail off. “If you prefer to send a pic of—”

  “No,” he cut her off.

  She blew out a breath. He could be such a tough nut to crack at times. “Can I ask you a question?” She bit her lower lip and waited for Forrest to shut her down.

  “Ask,” he replied, giving her the green light instead.

  “Do you ever touch yourself and think of me?” she whispered into the phone.

  “Friends,” he reminded her while managing to avoid answering the question.

  Pretty clever, Doc. Not that it mattered. She took his evasive response as a yes. Heat rushed between her thighs over the thought. “You want me.”

  He groaned.

  “I want you too, but you already know that.”

  “Where is this going?” His voice was hoarse and tortured on the other end of the line.

  She shrugged, not that Forrest could see her, and went for the jugular. “Every time I touch myself, it’s always you I think about. Goodnight, Doc.” Claire pressed the END button, disconnecting their call. That was one of the most brazen things she’d ever done, planting an image of herself touching, and stroking, her most intimate spots into Forrest’s mind.

  Heart racing, she lay in the dark, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Apparently torture wasn’t discriminatory. Her body felt restless and was way too hot. Swearing, she rolled onto her side.

  She wanted Forrest.

  She loved Forrest.

  She wanted Forrest and his love. Even though ten years had passed, she’d never been able to let him go.

  He told her to let go. Let’s try to be friends, he’d said.

  Phooey!

  He wanted her.

  He still loved her.

  And damn the weather for making a trip to the other side of the island impossible. Mother Nature was definitely a morbid force. If only there was a way to get off Chappy. Whether or not he wanted to love her, they’d be going at it like two hormone-driven, angst-ridden teenagers, kissing, touching, and…Claire shifted. The ultra-delicate spot between her thighs ached.

  A vision of Forrest standing behind her, burying deep inside, made her quiver. She wanted more of him. Flopping onto her back, she shoved off the comforter. Even though the house was well heated, cool air washed over her bare arms and across her chest. Underneath the cotton tank top, her nipples swelled, sending a stinging sensation to her flesh, to the point she captured one breast in her hand and squeezed. A little whimper escaped her lips as the pressure vibrated from between her breasts to her thighs. She clenched the comforter as thoughts of Forrest continued to tease her. Their first kiss to the first time they made love a month ago in his house. She could still taste him, could still feel his muscles flexing against her, in her.

  Her breath caught at the phantom of Forrest’s touch. After ten years, he’d awakened what she’d tried to keep dormant, and now she wanted more.

  If only the ocean wasn’t covered with ice.

  If only it wasn’t dawn.

  If only she hadn’t waited a decade.

  Along her throat, her pulse picked up speed, her heart stuttered. Between her thighs, the ache became more forceful. In the darkness, her hand fluttered to her stomach, and slid down under the loose band of her sleeping shorts. She closed her eyes. The muscles in her belly tightened, her breath quickened.

  The edges of her fingers slowly drifted over her thighs and slid between them. Shots of electricity seared through her veins. Catching her lower lip between her teeth to stop the cry building in her throat, her fingers slid through the wetness.

  Images of Forrest continued its pillaging, gray eyes on fire with heat and his mouth against hers, coaxing her open. She moaned and stroked the swollen area. That felt so good. Her finger moved in quick jerky movements back and forth before Claire drew in a deep breath, and pushed in. A gasp escaped her throat as tension coiled.

  She pushed a little deeper. The pressure sent another jolt and the burning in her core spread. Her hips jerked, rocked, as tension built deeper and deeper. In the darkness of her room, she grew hotter, wanting more. Visions of Forrest became even clearer–his mouth on hers, his eyes full of the love he withheld, his lips speaking the words he denied her, his hand, his fingers. The thoughts amplified the longing, and that was it. A moan erupted from deep inside her body as she unraveled.

  Brain scattering of all thoughts, she collapsed against the pillows, arms and legs shaking. Claire wasn’t sure how long it took for the tremors to subside, but eventually she rolled onto her side, the warm and fuzzy feeling reserved just for Forrest wrapped around her. She smiled and let the languid feeling invade her body, carrying her into sleep.

  * * * *

  At the harbor, Claire’s shoes clacked over the various hues of the wooden boards. Some newer planks with their bright unworn look, covered with patches of snow, sparkled under the sunlight, others dull and beaten by the countless freeze-thaw cycles and the salty air, perfectly balanced the upgrades and reflected the shabby chic look of the island.<
br />
  Martha’s Vineyard was a village of the past.

  An escape to the present.

  A sea explorer’s dream.

  Hands tucked in her pockets, she walked down by the Shanty, still feeling blissful from last night’s conversation with Forrest and after. Ghosts of yesteryear strutted by her side and kept her company.

  While the air was chilly, it was a beautiful day on the Vineyard, bringing out a slew of activities in downtown Edgartown. People flowed around her. They waved, stopped to make small talk, but no one was looking for her to sing, perform, sign papers, or design clothes. Nothing. She was simply one of them.

  Such an exposed place, with nothing to hide behind, and yet, on the island she wasn’t Claire Yasō Peters the singer, designer, and now actress. She was one of them. A local in the scenic vistas.

  “Hey!”

  Smiling, she turned to Keely. As always, her friend looked breathtaking. Under her winter hat and bone-straight brown hair, peeked eyes of hazel and honey. Unlike yesterday, when they were dim, today they sparkled with mirth.

  “Ready for our shopping spree?” she asked, sliding a hand through the crook of Keely’s arm.

  Another good thing from being on the island for the last month, she met with her friends almost every day. First thing this morning she had sent a text to Keely suggesting a shopping trip to Boston and had been delighted when her friend had quickly agreed.

  Keely laughed. “Are we really going to spend the whole time shopping for Lily and Adam’s baby? No offense, but...”

  Claire laughed. “Since there’s no baby shower, we have to spoil the little bundle. Any accidental slip on the baby’s gender?”

  “Nope. They claim they don’t know.” She ran her hands over her coat. “This winter has been brutal.”

  “True.”

  Keely laughed. “Between Adam’s parents and Lily’s the baby is already spoiled rotten.”

  Claire laughed as they made their way in the ferry. Funny, the weather hadn’t bothered her as much as she convinced herself in the past. “Better for us, we have carte blanche to buy whatever we want.”

  “Minka did speak to Lily and Adam’s parents,” Keely said, “In the spring, after the baby is born, we are throwing them a big party. Everyone is coming.”

  “Including her brothers?”

  “I think so. I know Max confirmed. We have to check with Minka.”

  “That only means another battle of testosterone between the Serrano brothers and the wolf pack.”

  Keely snickered. “It was good visual.”

  They walked up the ferry’s deck. Turning her back to the water, Claire breathed in the cool crisp air and let the wind blow her ebony hair away from her face. “Oh, yes, the football game.” They both sighed, looked at each other and burst into laughter.

  “Any progress with Forrest?”

  Claire thought of the late night conversation. Although Forrest hadn’t taken the bait, it had been friendly enough. “He wants to put us in the friend zone.”

  Keely wrinkled her nose at the thought. “Men.”

  Claire couldn’t help but chuckle. “But then he texted me late last night.”

  Keely arched a brow, clearly intrigued. “Like a booty call. Did you go?”

  “Not a booty call, much to my disappointment. He needed a friend to talk to.”

  “Poor guy. He’s going through a lot.”

  “He saw his mother for the first time yesterday.”

  “That’s progress.”

  Claire nodded in agreement. “During our little sexting or texting.” She shrugged. “He also told me if I had been there with him, we’d have had sex.”

  “Not very friend-like.”

  “Tell me about it. So of course I pushed and flirted a little. He shut down immediately. And then he called and we almost had phone sex.”

  “No fucking way!” Ripples of laughter passed between them again.

  “He didn’t take the bait,” Claire added, still a tad disappointed over Forrest’s lack of response. “But I could tell he was considering it.”

  “He still loves you.”

  “Maybe.” Leaning on the rail, she focused on the slow waves of the ocean. “But he doesn’t want to go there with me anymore.”

  “You told him everything. So give it some time.”

  She had no other choice.

  Three hours later, Keely and Claire’s arms were filled with shopping bags and they were starving. Arms linked, they walked along a narrow cobblestone with houses built in the late 1820s to a trendy Vietnamese restaurant.

  After a slight hesitation from recognizing Claire, the maître d’ led them to a table. As they sat down, Claire’s phone dinged, announcing an incoming message. Knowing she hadn’t responded to any of James’ emails from this morning, she yanked the phone out of her purse and was surprised to see Forrest’s name.

  “Everything okay?” Keely asked across the table.

  “It’s Forrest.” She studied the text.

  A selfie as you requested. Thanks for the company last night and hope you slept well.

  The picture seemed to have been taken earlier in the day. He was outside standing by one of the Herring Creek Farm delivery trucks. A few days old stubble, glasses, Baltic Sea color shirt under a heavy full-zipped sweater. His short, dark waves casually blown from the cool morning breeze into a sexy mess. Something about the candid shot set her heart racing almost too fast. Claire blamed her reaction on the ruggedness. Major hotness.

  “I asked him for a picture last night. He ignored me but he just sent one,” she said to Keely.

  “Oh.” Keely smiled. “I hope there’s a sexy text along with it.”

  “Not really.” She read the text to her friend. “Very controlled. Very Forrest.”

  “Well, I’m going to make a phone call. Why don’t you do a little sexting while I’m gone.”

  “Should I order you a drink?”

  “Water is enough for now. Be right back.”

  After ordering a glass of wine for herself and water for Keely, she picked up the phone, started to compose a text then decided to call Forrest instead. He answered on the second ring. At the sound of his voice, butterflies fluttered crazy low in her belly.

  “Thanks for the pic. You’re a hottie. By the way, I slept great. You?”

  He chuckled, clearly amused by her comment. So sexy.

  “No to the word hottie and I’m glad you slept well. I won’t ask,” he said smoothly. The baritone of his voice reverberating through her bones.

  Too bad. She wanted to play again. “Not even a bit curious?”

  He made a low noise in his throat, then said, “I’m a man, so naturally I’m curious.”

  Heat coursed through her body and settled in that spot between her thighs.

  “Where are you, Claire?”

  She blinked, shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. “In Boston, having lunch with Keely. We spent the day shopping. You?”

  “In my office staring at my computer screen and talking to you.”

  Her immediate reaction was to ask him if he’d been thinking of her as much as she’d been of him, but decided against the direct approach and tried another tactic. “Are you going to the farm later?”

  “No.”

  “Dinner?” she asked and held her breath.

  “How’s six o’clock?”

  A wide grin settled on Claire’s lips. Her heartbeat raged out of control, wanting out of her chest. She held back the urge to jump up and do the happy dance–only because she was in public. Thank goodness for that. “Your place?”

  “No.”

  Oh well, she tried. “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  “Remind me.”

  “Friends,” he said in a tight voice. “We’re working on that.”

  “Friends visit each other.”

  “True, but we’re not there yet.”

  A ball of ice formed on her chest over the thought of ever being just friends
with Forrest.

  “Do you mind getting off the island again?” he continued. “I know a spot.”

  For Forrest, anything. “I’ll meet you by Shanty at six and we can ferry over.”

  “See you then.”

  “It’s a date,” she said with a heavy heart.

  She was still looking at her phone when Keely returned. The waiter quickly approached their table and took their order of Pho and Cha Ca. Claire dropped the phone in her purse and focused her attention on her friend. “You look sad again.”

  Keely shrugged, right before her shoulders slumped. “That was my obstetrician.”

  Claire held her breath. Well aware her friend had been trying to get pregnant for some time now.

  “She wants to run some tests,” Keely continued. “I’m tired of this pregnancy business. I need a break.”

  “It will happen.”

  “As of today, I’m not thinking about it anymore. I need wine.” Keely laughed, no evidence of tension in her voice. “So what did our favorite doctor have to say?”

  “We’re going out to dinner tonight.”

  Across the table, Keely examined her. “So why don’t you look happy?”

  “He was all logic with that infernal, typical Forrest cool detachment.” She wrinkled her nose. “He’s really trying to put us in the friend zone. Forrest and I have never been friends. I’ve always been in love with him.”

  Keely sat back and took a gulp of her water. “You’re a sexy superstar. Men jerk off to the idea of you.”

  Claire groaned. That image wasn’t actually an ego-booster. “Not your greatest compliment.”

  “Sorry. But you have a date with Forrest that he initiated.”

  “Technically, I initiated.”

  “Whatever.” Keely dismissed her rebuttal with a dainty wave. “The way I see it, he can’t stay away. He’s fighting the love, but losing the battle with the lust part. I say let’s go buy you something sexy for tonight.”

  Her friend had a point. Love and lust were identical twins, similar on the outside and often mistaken for one another. But having experienced both, Claire knew on the inside, there was a world of difference between the two. She let out a breath. “I could use a nice, sexy outfit.”