by Kim Karr
“Ouch,” she exclaims loudly.
I glance around, looking for a light switch, and flick it on. “Turn around, let me see you.”
“I’m fine,” she says, kicking her heels off.
I circle over to her and take a look. “You have blisters on your lips.”
She slaps her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God, did you give me herpes?”
I should be insulted, but instead I’m laughing so hard a few tears drip from my eyes.
“It’s not funny,” she says, running down the hall. “Oh God, they’re huge.”
I walk down the hallway and see her looking in the bathroom mirror. “Let me see.”
She turns toward me.
“You don’t just have a little sunburn, you might have sun poisoning.”
“Do you think so?”
“Do I think I didn’t give you herpes? Yes.”
“I know you didn’t,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’m talking about sun poisoning.”
I mimic her and roll my eyes. “Yes, I’m pretty sure. I’ve taken care of sun poisoning a few times before. You need to take some aspirin, put some cold compresses over those blisters, and drink a lot of water. So let’s start with where I’ll find the aspirin.”
“I have Midol. Will that work?”
I laugh. “No, but I’ll run out to the store and pick some up along with some aloe because I’m going to guess you don’t have that either.”
She shakes her head no and turns back toward the mirror.
“Don’t keep touching them,” I yell as I walk into the kitchen and open the refrigerator, looking for a bottle of spring water. It’s completely empty except for a large bag of lemons. I close it and open a few cupboards until I find a glass. I fill it with water and when I turn she’s standing behind me. “Drink this. Get changed and put some cold washcloths over the blisters. I’ll be right back. Okay?”
She runs her hand down my chest. “Thank you.”
Our eyes lock and I grab her hand and kiss it. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I’m so sorry. I was really looking forward to tonight.”
I kiss the top of her head, the only place I know won’t hurt her. “There will be other nights.”
She drinks the water, sets the glass down, and opens the refrigerator, removing a few lemons from the bag. She sniffs them and I pause to watch her. She sets them on the counter, cuts one in half, and squeezes the juice up her arm. I watch her curiously as she repeats this process on the other arm and winces.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She turns toward me. “Cleansing my skin. I usually rub them up my arm, but I think that might sting more than it already does.”
I bunch my eyebrows.
“What?” she asks. “It’s common knowledge lemon juice is good for your skin, so it should help with sunburn too.”
“Yeah, but don’t most people squeeze them into their water?”
She shrugs. “I’m not like most people.”
“No. No, you’re not.” I laugh.
As I walk out the door now knowing why she always smells of lemon, I’m surprisingly not thinking about how our night has been ruined but rather about how I’m glad I’m here to take care of her.
The grocery store is quiet at this time of night as I push my cart through the aisles. I’ve decided to pick up a few things since I’m not sure she’ll be going out this weekend. My phone beeps and I slide it out of my pocket. It’s S’belle.
Did I say thank you?
You did and I told you you didn’t have to say that, but I think I’ve changed my mind.
Did I tell you I was really looking forward to tonight?
You did. Don’t you want to know why I changed my mind?
Did I tell you I really wanted to have sex with you tonight?
I nearly drop my phone. Fuck, she must be trying to kill me. I hurry up and pay for my cartload of shit and throw the bags in the car. By the time I get in my phone has beeped again.
Did you get my last text?
I did. And I think you’re trying to kill me.
No, I’m not. And I really do want to know what changed your mind.
Because whenever you get over this sunburn, I have a few ILLUSTRATED ways in mind that you can say thank you. Do you get my drift?
I capitalized illustrated so she might pick up my hint. When she doesn’t respond right away, I put the car in DRIVE and head back to her place, assuming she didn’t get it.
When I get back to her apartment, I pull the chain lock across the door and yell out, “Red.”
“I’m in my bedroom.”
“Can I come in?”
“Yes!” I can hear her laughing from here.
Setting the bags on the counter, I glance around again. I see a few personal things but not much, not even pictures.
“Are you coming?” she calls.
“I’ll be right there.” I throw the cold things into the fridge and freezer, grab a few water bottles from the pack I bought, the bottle of aspirin, the aloe, and walk down the hall. I know which room is hers immediately because there’s a candle glow from the doorway. Her bedroom is much like the living room—plain with very little in terms of décor. She’s lying on the bed with practically nothing on—as I said, she’s trying to kill me. She’s in a loose-fitting pair of lightweight sleep shorts and a thin-strapped tank top. Both are white. Both see-through.
“Hey, I got some stuff that should make you feel better.”
She glances up at me and I can tell there’s something bothering her. I take her phone from her clutched hand and when I do it chirps—a text from Tate Wyatt. I set it on the night table. “Wyatt? At this time of night?”
She shrugs. “He must have a question.”
“Well, it’s after hours, so you can contact him tomorrow, right?”
She stares at me as if contemplating what I just said but doesn’t move to grab her phone.
“Everything all right?” I ask as I set the things in my hands down on the nightstand.
“Yes.”
When I sit beside her, my stomach jolts. I want to hold her, to kiss her, to fuck her. But when I pull her chin toward me and stare into her eyes, I see tears.
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m being stupid.”
“About?”
“I’m just surprised you ever gave me a second thought.”
I gently kiss her lips and whisper to her, “You’re the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Yes, I gave you a second thought.” Then I add, “Many second thoughts.”
Silence overtakes us as we both seem to get lost in our memories. When my lips graze hers again, she flinches. I pull back and take the aspirin bottle, pop the cap off, and pour out two. Then I twist the top of the water bottle off and hand her both. She swallows the pills. After I kick my sneakers off, I crawl up next to her so we’re face-to-face. I run my fingers through her strands of red hair and notice the blotchiness on the skin of her shoulders.
“Bell,” I say, caressing her cheek. “I remember the first time I saw you in the library. I remember every single detail about the night we spent together. And if you want to talk about it, I will. But there are some things that I think are better left in the past. I have this need to have you in my life. I don’t understand what it is, but I know I haven’t felt more whole or more alive in a very long time than I have with you these last six weeks.”
A few stray tears trickle down her face. “You called me Bell.”
“That’s your name.”
“I know but you’ve never called me that.”
I shrug and carefully wipe her tears away. I pull myself up on the bed and lean against the headboard. Patting my stomach, I say, “Come here.”
She moves over to me.
I understand where her sadness is coming from. Where we started is complicated, confusing even. I was with Dahl then and there’s nothing I could say to make what we did right, no, what I did, right. I try to calm h
er by combing my fingers through her hair. I would hold her, hug her, if I could. When her sobbing eases I lean over and kiss her head. After a few long silent minutes I say, “Sit up. Let’s put this aloe on you.”
She slides across the sheets before settling with her back to me and I lean over to whisper softly in her ear, “Lift your hair.”
I take a moment to collect myself, trying to control the impact she’s having on me. She’s barely dressed and it’s hard to control my desire. I open the bottle and rub the cool liquid in my hands. “This is going to tingle at first, but you’ll feel much better, I promise.” I carefully pat it on her shoulders and just feeling her smooth skin makes me want to do so much more.
She screams, “Ouch,” and I can hear a sob and with that any sexual thoughts I had disappear. Fuck, I hate this. I don’t want her to cry. “I’m sorry, baby. Almost done.” I pat her shoulders, her back, her chest. She’s beyond sunburned everywhere. When I’m done I stand up. “I’ll be right back.”
She nods, taking another sip of water.
I leave the bathroom with a washcloth soaked in cold water. I place it on her forehead and she grabs it. Her fingers touch mine and an electrical current exchanges between us. Emptying my pockets, I lie down next to her and she moves to my chest. She fits perfectly there. She rubs her fingers over the buttons of my shirt and I resist the urge to touch her. I settle for running my fingers through her silky-smooth strands of hair and breathing in her lemon scent.
Exhaustion hits quickly and just as I start to drift off she softly says, “Ben.”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
“You can call me S’belle.”
I kiss her head one last time and grin before closing my eyes.
CHAPTER 18
Dirty Laundry
Bell
A tingle radiates all the way from my head to my toes as a vision of his lean and sinewy muscled body standing behind me on his surfboard with his very erect penis pressing into my back awakens me from my dreamlike sleep and I float back to earth.
“Hmm . . .” The noise escapes me involuntarily.
I knew I was a goner yesterday the minute he strode out of the water. There he was—a vision of utter perfection with his tight stomach muscles on display. He has stunned me into silence many times over the past weeks with his charm, the funny things he says, and his utter good looks, but when I saw him on the beach—his lean form, the faint line of hair that disappears into the waistband of his shorts, the dips and ridges of his half-naked body, then when his laugh dipped from his throat, everything just seemed so right. And lying here knowing he shared my bed last night for the first time, I can’t contain my glee.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I can’t help feeling amazed that the man I dream about is the one I’m waking up next to this morning. But then a sudden fit of anxiety bounces through me. I’m still a little scared. That hasn’t changed. It’s not a frightened kind of scared, though. It’s the same feeling I got when he first looked at me across the room almost a month ago. It was the same way he looked at me the night we were together so long ago and it thrills me, excites me, and scares me at the same time.
We are different people now than we were when our bodies first collided into a passion that consumed us. Sure, we’ve fooled around twice since, but it wasn’t like that night. I know he wants me in that way again, I can tell, and I want the same thing. But so much has happened—and there are still things that need to happen, truths to be told, for this to mean something. I am afraid it might be too much for him, or maybe too much for me. Yet the past few weeks have shown me that the pull between us is too strong to deny . . . I have to give us a try.
Deciding to wake up, I let my fingers creep across the sheets, inching their way around so I can feel him. But he’s not anywhere in the bed. Last night we hadn’t had sex, but it was still somehow unforgettable. The way he took care of me, how sweet he was, his concern for how I was feeling. The way my head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck and how I fell asleep in his arms. It all felt so real, so right . . . there was nothing wrong about any of it.
With the light streaming through the blinds, my eyes slowly blink open. I look around my room for him. My lips curl into a smile when I spot his sneakers on the carpet. As the smile spreads across my lips, my hand flies to my mouth, and although a few small bumps remain, they don’t hurt. Thoughts of my feelings for him bubble back to the surface. I locked them away for a long time, but no matter how hard I tried to forget him I couldn’t let him go.
I ached for him when I saw him in my brother’s house last year. Having no idea who he was, I felt hope cascading through me. I thought it was finally our time. Memories of how he’d brought me to climax over and over were all I could think of. I’d blocked out everything else. But when I found out he was Dahlia’s Ben, her long-lost fiancé thought dead, I was sickened, horrified even that she had been the one whose boyfriend I had taken without regard and I knew the flame he had lit inside me needed to be doused. Thank God Dahlia didn’t hold on to angry feelings. Thank God she couldn’t see inside my head. But she was in love with my brother and nothing else mattered. She was willing to move forward. She accepted what I had done, what Ben and I had done, and I was so very thankful
Then when I saw him again I wasn’t worried about Dahlia, or River, or even my mother; I was worried about myself. No matter how hard I tried to shut him out I, couldn’t. When I looked in his eyes the past became a blur; the only thing I could see were the memories of how he made me feel. So I let him in. I couldn’t help myself. More than anything I wanted to feel that way again. But this time I knew I needed to proceed with caution. And that’s what I’ve done—until now.
I sigh deeply at all the memories. The issues are still there, but this time I feel strong enough to face them, to throw caution to the wind and accept the consequences. I twist my back and stretch my neck, happy to be feeling only a fraction of the pain I felt yesterday, and a huge grin crosses my lips. It’s Saturday and I have no plans. Hopefully Ben and I can spend the day together—alone. I’m particularly thankful right now that I told Tate I couldn’t work today. I knew after Ivy’s event I’d be wiped. He was upset, but the event he had planned for today wasn’t mine; it was his. He just wanted me there.
It was time for me to start pulling back on assisting him with events so I could spend more time on my own planning. Part of me wishes I could just leave, but I’m not ready to quit, although I’m not sure how much longer I can take it. He’s becoming more and more demanding of my time, and his advances toward me since our breakup last winter aren’t letting up.
Sliding my feet to the floor, I spot Ben’s keys and wallet on my nightstand. And then I start second-guessing myself, wondering if moving forward with him right now is what I should be doing. My goal for this year was to focus on myself. Get my life on track. It didn’t include a relationship—that wasn’t in my plans. But everything about him seems so right this time. And even the repercussions don’t seem overwhelming. Sure, my family’s issues will be abundant. But Dahlia has accepted Ben in her life and I’m sure she can help me with River. Xander will be an ass, but I can handle him. The biggest issue of all will be my mother. But once I explain to her what Ben said last night, that he wanted to leave the past in the past, I know she’ll understand.
Looking down at the clover I’ve worn for the past six years, I can’t help thinking . . . why tell him? What’s done is done; there’s no undoing it.
My nose starts to twitch, tearing me from all my thoughts as I catch the faint smell of sizzling bacon in the air. I sniff again, thinking about my empty refrigerator. Ambling out of bed, I make a quick stop in the bathroom before I patter down the hall in search of him and the delicious smell. My heart leaps at the sight in the kitchen—Ben, messy blond hair, muscled, skin tanned, barefoot, standing at my stove in front of a frying pan. With a fluttering stomach, I lick my lips wanting to just taste him. He looks nothing short of edible in his white shirt and faded jean
s that hug him just right. His pants are hung low, frayed at the hem just like his shirt. He is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He has always been.
I watch as he flips the slices before him and remember the last time we spent the night together—and how it ended. I blink that sad thought away. And again needing to make sure this is real—I step closer.
“S’belle, you’re awake.” He grins while dropping a piece of bacon onto a plate.
My pulse races. Those two syllables that I’ve longed to hear from his lips for so long and suddenly any doubts I had are gone—I know I’m ready to take this leap with him. I lean against the kitchen doorway and I smile. “Good morning. You went shopping?”
He laughs. “I picked a few things up while I was at the store last night. I noticed you were a little on the empty side.” He points to the fridge.
“Yeah, I haven’t gotten the living on my own thing down yet,” I respond, but really I have; I just hate it.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” I answer. My voice is low and seductive.
He turns. “Good. It’s almost done. How’s the sunburn?” he asks, sweeping the length of me with his eyes as he cracks an egg into a bowl.
I raise my arms in a catlike stretch, making sure to pull my hair up off my shoulders so it tumbles down when I let it go. Then I run my hands down my body.
His eyes flicker over me.
“It’s much, much better,” I purr.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
I nod and smile, slow and sweet.
The most devilish grin forms on his lips and he quickly tosses the eggshell into the sink. Then he turns the stove off and transfers the pan to the burner beside it.
“Come here,” he demands, then adds, “Now.”
Not only do his words and his smile send tingles to every nerve in my body, but the sound of his voice and the anticipation of what’s to come make me quiver with need. I saunter into the kitchen in my best attempt to be as seductive as he is. And it works, because in a heartbeat he grabs me and pushes me up against the counter. His hands cup the back of my neck and he pulls me to him. Heat and his hardness assault me immediately. Just the feel of his lips on mine sweeps me away—lust and need the only things I can think about, the only things left in the room. I fall into his kiss, whimpering at the way his tongue presses against mine, the way it searches my mouth, demanding all of me. The kiss is warm, deep, and desire floods me in a mad rush.