Changing Tides (Kill Devil Hills Book 2)

by Sarah Darlington

  “What the hell?” I whispered, baffled at my body’s response and his ability to give it to me.

  His eyes opened and an easy, arrogant smile came to his lips. He knew exactly the effect he had on women. And now, apparently, on me too. “Yeah. I know,” he said, pleased and way too sure of himself.

  Whatever. This was a one time, one moment kind of thing. I wasn’t going to waste it feeling embarrassed or being annoyed with his male-pride-machoism. I was going to take advantage of the small—or big—gift that the airplane gods had bestowed upon me. And his name was Nate Freaking West.

  “I want more,” I gasped, returning my lips to his. Losing myself to this moment, I kept kissing him. Nothing else seemed to matter except the press of his tongue against my own and the sweet taste of his mouth. And he didn’t seem to mind either. In fact, his kisses grew greedier and a little less restrained. My heart raced harder and harder as I grabbed his sweatshirt and pulled him in closer to me.

  I wanted more. I needed more. And it became increasingly apparent, judging by the very hard length of him now pressing crudely between my legs, similar thoughts were exploding through his head too. And this damn throbbing that had built between my thighs needed some serious relief. Now. Kissing suddenly wasn’t good enough. I wanted to cash in the offer he’d made. I wanted to have a quickie in this airplane bathroom. I wanted to know why I was feeling something for him when I’d never felt anything like this for any man before.

  Taking hold of the bottom of his sweatshirt, I yanked the gray material up his chest. His muscles were too bulky and I really had to wiggle to get him and his big head free. But I managed. Then I tossed the tattered, old thing aside. The dude surely had money to burn—you’d think he’d own nicer clothes. But whatever. I kind of liked that he wasn’t decked out in Armani or Chanel or whatever it was rich people dressed in.

  After the sweatshirt was gone, he made quick work of removing the t-shirt he wore underneath. Hot damn, he had a fantastic chest. Tan and chiseled and not for the faint of heart. Seriously, I bet when he worked out at the gym he induced self-esteem issues in all the other guys around him.

  Breathing as evenly as I could, I traced my fingers adoringly up and down the hard lines. Tits were beautiful and all—but so was he. I bent over and kissed one of his perfect, brown man nipples. Shit, he was gorgeous. I pulled back to look at him. “Take off your pants,” I ordered. “I want to see the rest of you.”

  His fingers lingered on the button of his jeans. “What’s happening?” he questioned. “Are we doing this?”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “You really want to lose your virginity to a stranger in a bathroom?” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip then his teeth sank into that lip. His eyes were dilated and set on me. His breath came out in choppy exhales and inhales. In this moment, he exuded the same dominate intensity Lucian had in spades on his show. This wasn’t acting though; at least, it didn’t feel that way to me, and the level of lust rolling off him made my knees feel weak. But despite my body’s physical reaction, I wasn’t a weak woman. I was assertive and strong and when I wanted something I went after it. And I wanted him. More than I’d ever wanted anyone or anything before. And I always got what I wanted.

  “Once again, I’m not really a virgin,” I told him confidently. “I’ve probably been with just as many girls as you have. Maybe more. I’m kind of picky and relationships never last long with me. So—” Placing my hands on either side of his face, I drew his head down closer to mine. “Don’t say the wordvirgin again or I might break something off. But yeah, this is exactly the way I want it to happen. I’d take this over candles, rose petals, and champagne any day. And twice on Sundays.”

  That elicited a smile from his full lips. “You might be the most unique woman I’ve ever met. And I’ve been with plenty of woman too…as I’m also extremely picky.”

  “Nobody wants to hear about that shit,” I joked, giving him a shove. “Rule Number One. Don’t brag to a woman about all the other women you’ve been with right before you fuck her. Trust me on this one. I can take it, because I’m cool like that, but for future conquests…just don’t.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Okay. Noted. Even though you sort of did the same thing to me.”

  Um? He kind of had a point, but I wasn’t about to admit that. Instead, I forced the smile from my lips and then shook my head at him. “Just shut the hell up and take off your pants already, Nathanial.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Okay. Maybe I wasn’t as confident as I liked to think I was because the moment his fingers unhooked the button on his jean, slid down the zipper, and let his pants fall to the floor—everything inside me changed. He pressed the gray cotton of his boxer briefs down and his erection sprang free. Like something out of a dream, or possibly every lesbian’s worst nightmare, it looked just as powerful and strong as he was. And equally as intimidating. Reminding myself to breathe, I stared down at it jetting into my space. Because, hell, I’d never actually seen one in real life. And that one appendage left me feeling gooey and vulnerable inside. Especially vulnerable—because I wanted to touch it and feel it sliding in and out of me. And I wanted it to happen while he kissed me and whispered sweet Lucian things in my ear.Did that make me a total girl?

  Oh, God.

  Swallowing, I shifted my gaze to his. I think he could tell now that I was full of shit and had been blowing hot air at him all along. But instead of calling me out or making a joke about it, like I half expected, something about him changed too. His cocky demeanor went soft, matching the softness I now felt in my chest.

  “Can I take off your clothes now, firecracker?” he asked gently, sliding the back of his hand down my cheek. His eyes searched my eyes.

  I could have told him “no” if I’d wanted. But I didn’t.

  I nodded, practically ready to beg.

  His hands didn’t move right away to do as he’d asked, instead he inched closer and pressed little lingering kisses along the side of my neck. It was sweet and kind and totally not Lucian behavior. It was boyfriend behavior. And that scared the shit out of me. But what scared me infinitely more was how much I liked and wanted it.

  Suddenly there was a loud knock against the door. “Excuse me. Hello. Is everything okay in there? Are you ill?”

  It was the flight attendant—interrupting.

  Thank the airplane gods. Because I don’t think I was as ready as I thought to screw a man’s brains out in a bathroom. “That bitch,” I whispered, trying to act like my normal foul-mouthed self. But the truth was…I was relieved.

  Nathanial pulled back. He was fully naked, aside from his pants around his ankles, and I was fully clothed. How awkward was this scenario? I avoided eye contact with him and turned my head to shout at the flight attendant.

  “Yeah, my contact is folded and stuck in my eye. It hurts like a mother. Do you have any contact solution?”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday,” her sharp voice replied. “Why don’t you come on out and I’ll get my flashlight? Maybe I can help get it out for you.”

  As I spoke with the woman, Nathanial bent over to pull up his pants. He was still hard and had to do some maneuvering to fit back into his jeans. Sneaking one final peak at him, a wave of regret rolled through me. I didn’t even get a chance to touch him properly. And that bothered me for some random reason. Actually, what bothered me more was how I knew I was moments away from telling him goodbye forever.

  He pulled on his shirt and his sweatshirt. Then we stepped out of the bathroom together.

  “Is your eye better?” the woman asked, arms crossed and staring at me impatiently. She had a second flight attendant standing behind her and they both were looking at us like we were a pair of unholy fornicators.

  “Yes. Nate here fixed me up,” I told them, letting out a long exhale as I fanned myself. I pretended like I was hot and bothered from some post-orgasmic bliss. “Don’t you wish your contact was stuck in your eye now to
o?”

  Sherrie groaned, looking at me in disgust. “Return to your seat.”

  “Thanks for the good time, Mr. West,” I threw over my shoulder, smiling as vibrantly as I could. I even winked at him. Then I walked down the aisle, toward the back of the plane. The moment I made it safely past the curtain, with the reassurance of my friends in view—the smile on my face fell away and the worst sinking feeling imaginable filled my chest. It took everything in me just to walk the last few steps to my seat.

  CHAPTER 4:

  NATHANIAL

  What just happened? It felt a lot like whiplash.

  Ellie had left me high and dry, in two seconds flat, like she needed to be rid of me as fast as possible. That hadn’t been pleasant. And neither was the churning now lingering in my gut. Maybe on any other day, with any other person, I could have sat back down in my seat and continued on like nothing had happened. Fuck. I would move on. She would move on. And in twenty-four hours’ time we’d both forget one another existed. But as I sat back down, staring at the blur of clouds out my window, I decided that simply forgetting her wasn’t what I wanted at all.

  The real issue was…I genuinely liked this girl. And I didn’t want to part ways with a big “what if” hanging over my head.

  Sometimes in life—very rarely, I might add—you meet someone and you know instantly they’re going to mean something special to you.

  Her words knocked around in my head. I’d wanted to use her as a memory eraser for another girl and now she was stuck up there too. The whole lesbian thing was a mystery I wanted to unravel. Because I swear to God—judging by the way her mouth had felt against mine and by the way her eyes had devoured me alive—I seriously doubted she was as into women as she thought she was. And fuck if I didn’t want to be the one to prove that to her.

  Digging in my bag, I searched for a pen.

  The moment I’d slipped down my jeans, I knew she hadn’t been bullshitting me about the never being with a man thing. Because she’d stared at my dick like she’d never seen a naked man before. And I liked that about her. I also liked her overly-confident way and her foul little mouth. I’d meant it when I’d told her she was unique. She was.

  So I jotted my phone number on the back of my plane ticket with every intention of giving it to her when we landed. Maybe she lived in LA too. Maybe we’d have a chance to finish what we’d started. Maybe it could even happen more than once.

  Lots of maybes…but I wanted to take a chance on her. Or at the very least, finish what we’d started.

  Clutching my ticket in my hand, I rested my head against the side of the plane. Four more hours until we would land. Ellie was trapped with me on this plane. She’d have to pass by my seat when she exited. So I closed my eyes, desperate for a few hours of rest, and drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

  * * *

  “Excuse me. Sir? Mr. West?”

  My internal clock was a mess. I’d been on set in the middle of butt-fuck-Egypt. Not kidding. Actually, Morocco. But it was so far from home that I couldn’t tell the difference. Our director for Dragon Wars loved to pick the most obscure, remote locations he could find. Last year we’d been in Croatia. And if he told me we’d be filming in Antarctica next year then it wouldn’t even surprise me.

  I peeled open my eyes to find no clouds out my window and instead cement. Sherrie the flight attendant stood hovering over me. And my heart dropped because of it.

  “We’ve landed, sir,” she informed me. “You’re the last one on the plane.”

  Yeah, no shit.

  Unbuckling my seatbelt, I stood to my feet. I’d shipped most of my belongings home last week, so I had relatively few things to collect—just my backpack, headphones, and hat off the floor.

  I was pissed at myself for oversleeping. But I was also pissed at Ellie. She was long gone and the least she could have given me was a simple goodbye. I guess our twenty minutes in the bathroom hadn’t meant as much to her as it had meant to me.

  Hurrying off the plane, I rushed for baggage claim because that was the only place I figured I had a chance at finding her. My feelings were mixed. If I caught up with this girl would I simply hand over my phone number, asking her to call, or would I tell her off for being somewhat of a bitch to me? Damn this day! I should have just kept my headphones on and ignored her when she came trespassing into first class.

  I’d almost made it all the way to baggage claim when a fan nearly tackled me. “You’re that guy, right? You’re Lucian Kale. You’re him. You’re Nate West.” The man questioning me looked like he was in his forties but actually was probably around twenty-five. He was overweight, sweating, and staring at me like he’d just won the lottery. This was my typical fan. Sure, plenty of women wrote me on daily basis asking to have my children. But I also had many men as fans too. They were the obsessive-compulsive types who read every book in the Dragon Wars series, watched every episode of the show, and even played all the video games. So I had to slow down and stop. Because people like this man were the real reason I had such a high-paying job.

  “Yes, I’m him.”

  He shook my hand, took a photo, and then proceeded to ask me a million and one questions. Questions he probably could answer much better than I could. I smiled and told him as much as I could. But every moment I spent with him was another moment I grew further away from catching Ellie.

  And then, as soon as Super Fan left me, another person recognized me. Then another. And another. By the time I had a break, thirty minutes had passed and so had my window.

  Goodbye, Ellie.

  A driver meet me out front. He took me on the PCH, the Pacific Coast Highway, toward Malibu. They say everywhere in LA takes twenty minutes, but that is a bold-faced lie. Nowhere takes less than an hour and that’s without traffic. But today, miraculously enough, it only took twenty minutes from LAX to my house in Malibu. The shred had to be flat today. Nothing else could explain this wonderful traffic.

  Traffic or no traffic, being back in LA was like a warmth washing over me. The familiar sights and sounds put my scattered mind at ease. I loved this city and I’d been gone far too long. But when I stepped into my empty house that feeling vanished. It had been four long months since I’d been home and everything felt wrong. I guess I’d grown accustomed to my two bedroom in Morocco. Or maybe the problem was that Kelly’s assistants had come to collect her furniture and clothes a few weeks ago, leaving it bare and cold inside my home. Like a shattered relic of an old memory. Dammit, she even took the bed out of my bedroom. I guess the first thing on my agenda this week would be buying some shit to fill the empty spaces.

  Now if only I could buy some shit to fill the empty spaces inside me.

  Telling myself to stop thinking so much, I glanced out the floor to ceiling windows that displayed the ocean. My view was superb and it was a beautiful day, but I still felt like hell. And I’m pretty sure it was all Ellie’s fault. Our brief encounter and her quick departure from my life bothered me for some random reason. Mostly, I hated that she was on my mind at all. After Kelly, I’d vowed to never let a woman have any control over me again, and I was doing just that with a complete stranger.

  I had friends I could call, but it had been months and I didn’t feel up for the usual parties. Besides, I’d sworn off alcohol for a while. So, I dropped my backpack on the floor and decided to go rescue Holly from Mrs. Stone. The old woman had my cat and I wanted it back.

  The walk to her house wasn’t far—only two houses down the beach from mine. Her late husband had been a director for several movies back in the seventies. He’d even won an Oscar for one of his films. Then he’d overdosed on heroine in the early nineties, which left Mrs. Stone a very rich widow. She kept to herself mostly, but was always asking me to come help when she needed a light bulb changed or something simple replaced. And in return, she’d watch my cat while I was on location.

  I walked up the spiral staircase that led to her deck. Unlike my house that was set more inland, the back end of
her house was on stilts and much closer to the water. She loved plants, especially anything tropical, and her back deck was covered in green.

  It surprised me when I reached the top of the stairs and found Mrs. Stone sitting outside, soaking up some sun, in some sort of granny bathing suit. She had a young man sitting in a lounge chair opposite her.

  “Hi, Mrs. Stone,” I said, announcing my presence.

  She gasped and placed her hand on her chest. “Good heavens, Nathanial. You scared me. Well, don’t just stand there—please, come in.”

  “Sorry,” I said, unlocking the back gate and entering. “I just got home from Africa and figured I’d come pick up Holly.” I had a key. She’d given it to me about six months ago. I always came in through the back, but this was the first time I’d ever found her outside on the deck. Someone had to tend to all her plants I suppose, I’d just never seen her outside.

  The young man with her was her nephew. Or at least I think he was her nephew. He rose to his feet, his dark shaggy hair falling in his blue eyes, and reached over to shake my hand. We’d meet once before. I guess he was still living here. Or maybe he was a permanent fixture. Maybe the family had sent him out to California, from wherever they were from, to take care of grandma.

  I didn’t ask personal questions. I preferred to keep the personal stuff to a minimum. “How’s Holly?” I asked instead.

  “She’s fine,” the nephew said. “Carrie walks her daily now.” He reached for a pitcher of water sitting on a side table. Then he refilled Mrs. Stone’s drink like he was her waiter.

  “Walks?” I questioned. “How does onewalk a cat?” And Carrie? He’d called her Carrie. That was just weird.

  “Oh, Nathanial,” Mrs. Stone gushed. “You have to see how adorable it is!”