I clench so hard that he only can go in and not out. It’s a long-lasting euphoria. My head lolls and my eyes flutter as the high hits me. My spine arches, toes curling. A shiver runs through the length of my legs and all the blissfulness in the world rains down on me.
I feel like I’ve just experienced sex and all its glory for the first time.
A sheen of sweat coats his shoulders, chest and forehead, our breath ragged. He is grinning, his eyes full of knowing.
Yes, Loren Hale.
You are enough for me.
{ 15 }
LILY CALLOWAY
Daisy passes me the sunscreen in the living room area of the yacht. Our parents, Jonathan Hale, and his plus one seclude themselves on sofas in the bow. I’ve noticed some uncomfortable tension during breakfast between them and us. My dad silently grabbed a bagel and went to the bow without a word. My mom followed quick after.
“What happened last night?” I ask everyone. Daisy rubs sunscreen on her long legs while Rose flips through a magazine at the glass table, Poppy sipping a mojito next to her. Rose shoots her looks for drinking a fruity alcoholic drink in her midst. I’m not so sad about the lack of alcohol with my pregnancy. I never drank much before it, but Rose does like her bloody marys, mimosas and red wine.
“Didn’t you hear the yelling?” Poppy asks me, adjusting her floppy straw hat.
“There was yelling?” My eyes cartoonishly pop out of my head. My orgasm was so supreme that it blocked out all other surrounding noises. Wow.
Pregnancy has its perks, but my horniness is both amazing and terrifying. Case in point, just remembering last night throbs my clit, blood rushing down there.
“Everyone should just forget it ever happened,” Rose says uninterestedly.
“That’s easy since I have no idea what it is,” I mutter, squirting sunscreen on my palm. It makes a farting noise, and I whip my head around in embarrassment, hoping no one heard.
Daisy is smiling, though it’s a kind of smile that makes me feel better. “Dad just got mad at me,” she says. “It’s my fault, anyway.”
Rose snorts. “That’s inaccurate.”
“Rose is right,” Poppy chimes in. “He’s let you model in New York for years. He can’t be upset now just because he sees how grown up you are.”
“It’s rude,” Rose adds icily.
“It’s not fair to you,” Poppy rephrases in a warmer, softer tone.
Okay, the older sister support system is in check—minus me. I raise my hands, one of my arms still white with sunscreen. “What happened? Really?” I wonder if this is bad. Sex left me out of the loop again, but maybe this is different. That kind of sex was the best kind I’ve ever had. It can’t be wrong.
Rose fans herself with her magazine, but Poppy beats her to the answer. “Dad learned that Ryke and Daisy were sharing a cabin. He said they weren’t married or engaged, and he wanted them separated.”
I frown. “Wait…” I shake my head. “That doesn’t make sense. They’ve let Lo and me share a cabin since we were teenagers.”
Rose tilts her head at me like I need to tap into my brain.
Oh. “It’s Lo,” I realize. He’s always the exception. Well, and Connor was too. Poppy’s husband, Samuel Stokes, never got away with anything at first. He had to earn his way into my dad’s good graces, and apparently Ryke does too.
“Ryke was angry,” Poppy provides more details.
“He was pissed,” Rose clarifies. I imagine his blood vessels ready to pop, his veins protruding in his biceps and forearms.
“Doesn’t Dad know that you two live together?” I ask Daisy.
She tightens the straps of her neon green bikini and shakes her head. “No. He assumed we were staying in different rooms, like during Princesses of Philly.”
Oh my God. My eyes are like saucers. This is really bad then. I picture my docile father growing horns towards Ryke. He probably thinks Ryke “deflowered” his youngest daughter. Not…exactly the case. “Did Ryke back down?”
“He tried as much as he could,” Daisy says. “But Dad was basically attacking him.”
The boat sways a bit, and Rose loses focus on the conversation, her skin paling. She shuts her eyes for a long, unsteady moment. It’s hard to tell when Rose is sick, but she’s been making frequent trips to the restroom. Her morning sickness is combating her seasickness in a not-so-nice way.
“This boat…” Rose says, drawing out her proclamation. “…is killing me. I am going to slaughter it by the end of this vacation. And if anyone has anything negative…or rational to say against me, I will push you overboard.”
I’m not even going to tempt it.
Poppy reverts to the subject at hand. “I thought Ryke did a great job sticking up for himself and Daisy. He told Dad what everyone else wanted to say.” I’m guessing that bit about Daisy being grown up. “With probably too many curse words,” Poppy adds. “But Dad started yelling first.”
My mouth drops. “What…?”
“He was really mad,” Daisy reminds me.
“Yeah but…” That’s crazy. I try to recall a single time where my dad raised his voice.
Off my confusion and shock, Poppy says, “He used to get so worked up over Sam that he’d start yelling. He’s just worried about guys taking advantage of us.”
Oh. My relationship with my dad is so dissimilar from my sisters’. He treated me more like his son than his daughter, letting me do what I pleased since he trusted Lo so much. I don’t think he ever felt like he had to protect me like he does them.
My dad and I communicate in head nods, shoulder shrugs, and brief smiles.
Since my sex addiction, it took him a while to acknowledge me again. By not telling him my problems, I somehow broke our silent bond, something I didn’t even really see until my therapist pointed it out. But we’re okay now.
The smiles are back. The shoulder shrugs and shoulder pats happen more often. We haven’t had any sort of emotional heart-to-heart, but I’m not looking for one.
“We’re trying not to be disrespectful,” Daisy explains her situation with Ryke. “It’s really fine if we stay in separate rooms.”
It’s her birthday. She deserves the orgasm that I had last night. That and more. I wish I could trade with her, but it’s not looking possible.
Color returning to her cheeks, Rose eyes our oldest sister as she sips the mojito. “I hate you,” Rose tells her, her glower drilling holes all over Poppy.
Poppy wipes her mouth with a napkin. “I remember you drinking margaritas while I was pregnant with Maria. So now you know how it feels.”
Rose purses her lips, glaring now at the minty drink. “I bet it tastes horrible.”
“It could be better,” Poppy says nicely.
“I like you a little more.”
While they talk, I spot a magazine on a rack by the wall, a shirtless Zac Efron on the cover. I throb again, an ache that grows at the sight of two-dimensional abs. When did the star of High School Musical look like that? Jeez.
I swallow hard, cursing my body. I had to even stop watching Teen Wolf this season for this very reason.
It makes me nervous. Lo tried to explain to me that the world isn’t a porn-filled playground. I don’t need to be frightened of my surroundings, even if everything turns me on. I just need to take deep breaths…I blow one out…and train my mind on different things, avoiding carnal fixations.
My mantra this trip: I refuse to act on my arousal. Unless it’s from Loren fucking Hale.
I nod resolutely.
Now I must disappear and hide this red flush. “I’m heading out,” I tell my sisters. All lathered in sunscreen, I exit through sliding glass doors and step onto the deck that overlooks the yacht’s pool.
I stretch my arms, the afternoon rays beating down on my pale shoulders. Looking at the deck below, I skim the row of lounge chairs absentmindedly and then land on a supreme eight-pack, with long masculine legs.
I freeze and do a literal double-take
at the toned body, with muscles that point towards his navy blue swim trunks, the guy’s face blocked from view thanks to the bar.
My hormones do not care about my sanity.
I squeeze my thighs together, hot from more than just the sun. Oh my God. I know every ridge of Loren Hale’s body, and this is not him. I burn with guilt. I would never cheat on him, I remind myself. I need a cold dip in the pool. Stat.
“His body is infuriating,” Rose suddenly says beside me. I jump in fright.
“When did you…” I trail off as Daisy joins us, shutting the sliding door. Her yellow cast, with the words Fuck Off scrawled in Ryke’s handwriting, is wrapped in plastic so she can get it wet.
Rose is focused on the guy below, resting her forearms on the railings, maybe in part to battle her seasickness. She shouts, “I hope you get a third degree burn and drown!”
What? My brows crinkle, and that’s when the body stirs. Oh no. Oh no. He sits up, bare feet dropping on either side of the lounge chair, and then he leans forward, in plain sight.
Connor Cobalt.
I just got aroused from my sister’s husband.
Someone I’ve never been attracted to like that. I’d like to say that pregnancy is awesome and beautiful, but this part is doing a number on me. I roast in embarrassment, unmoving, a statute on deck.
Connor wears classy sunglasses, a paperback in hand. And his grin widens at Rose. “You’re wasting your hopes on the impossible, darling.”
Rose straightens up and white-knuckles the railing. “I waste nothing more than you do.”
“That’s entirely false…” His gaze falls to her breasts, much larger, even in her black two-piece and sheer cover-up dress. “…but I’ll let it go, this time.”
“Watch out, Rose,” Lo says, walking onto the pool deck below us, a towel slung over his shoulder. I scan his sculpted torso from hours in the gym, the view more pleasing and less humiliating. I wish I could send my body an SOS: Loren Hale only! signal. “I heard Connor likes spanking, hard.”
“Just heard?” Connor banters, his grin blinding.
Lo snaps his fingers in mock realization. “That’s right, love, I forgot about last night.”
“Impossible,” Connor says. “I’m unforgettable.” He winks at Lo, and I exhale loudly at the whole flirty male banter. An exhale that belongs to ravenous bedroom Lily 1.0. Not Lily 3.0.
Rose has completely zeroed in on her husband, but her face is clammy with sweat, her skin almost ashen. “Your hand is getting nowhere near my ass.” Her threat sounds weak as she queasily rocks back.
Connor’s grin vanishes in a second. “Rose?”
She puts a hand to her mouth and quickly spins to the sliding door.
Connor jolts to his feet, no longer humored. He sprints out of the pool deck, towards the staircase. Rose darts inside the cabin, where she came from. To go puke, most likely.
I can barely process my seesawing emotions, not when Connor runs across the second-floor deck. More concerned about his wife than anything else. He passes me and Daisy without a glance. And he disappears after my older sister.
The worst part: I still feel hot.
I take a quick look left and catch Daisy scrutinizing my beet-red expression. I try to play it cool, relax my arms, and offer her a small smile. She returns it and lightly hip-bumps me. “I know everyone didn’t really have a choice, but I’m happy you’re here,” she says. “Thanks for coming.”
Coming. I am on fire, paranoia heightening with the idea that everyone is reading my perverted thoughts. “Happy nineteenth,” I tell her, which I should’ve this morning.
“Thanks.” She smiles brighter. “I’m going to go get a drink from the bar. Do you want a water or anything?”
I shake my head. “I’ll follow you down there though.” We stroll along the skinny outside walkway. I just now recognize the muscle shirt she’s wearing. I bought this one for her birthday: a print of a unicorn prancing in a field of daises with a rainbow. It reminded me of her, and I was too excited to wait until this weekend to reveal it. The white fabric covers her bikini.
“What’d Ryke get you?” I ask.
She shrugs and fixes her hair into a high bun. “He’s not the gift-giver kind of guy.”
Noooo. He did not forget. Rose texted him twenty different threats if he failed to remember Daisy’s birthday present. I only know this because Ryke showed me a picture of a chopped, burnt hot dog that Rose sent him.
Thank goodness produce and meat products haven’t turned me on. I’ve headed to a new horrible low if that happens.
“Ryke would make an exception for you,” I tell her.
“It’s okay,” she shrugs again. I really can’t tell if it bothers her or not.
And that’s when Ryke climbs the stairs to our walkway, the stairs that we must descend. I’ve been successfully avoiding him since we baked cookies. I don’t want to feel like a gross monster around Ryke, and until I figure out how to alter those feelings, I’ve decided to put myself in situations where I can’t have them at all.
Which makes this run-in right now very, very awkward.
I go silent with Daisy, and we come to a sort of standstill. It’s ten times worse because Ryke is very tanned and very shirtless. Another set of abs. More muscles that point to swim trunks, this time black ones with blue trim.
I find a solution, planting my gaze on his feet. Safe. There is nothing I can do about my embarrassed flush at this point. I just have to ignore it.
Ryke breaks the uneasy silence. “I left my sunglasses in the cabin.”
Daisy lets out a mock gasp. “You mean these sunglasses?” She waves his black wayfarers in the air and then puts them on.
I take a peek, a mistake because he gives my little sister the longest once-over in history of once-overs. My breath feels shallow, and the shame starts rising like molten lava.
“Cute, Calloway.”
I have to get out of here. I’ll submerge my whole body in an ice cold pool. Maybe it’ll rewire my brain. Plan concocted, I step forward to dart away, my concentration back on the deck.
And then my chest instantly collides with Ryke. I flinch back. “Sorry!” I shout nervously, hands raised. I catch a glimpse of him, confusion knotting his eyebrows.
“Why are you fucking red?”
Oh my God.
“It’s hot out,” Daisy covers for me. She knows very well that this is a different sort of hot. And yet, she’s on my side, sticking up for me—it’s kindness that I love and cherish with all my heart. But guilt sinks low because I’m flushed partly from her boyfriend.
It’s all screwed up.
I shield my face with a sweaty palm. “Yeah, it’s really hot. Imheadingtothepool,” I slur quickly, spinning on my heels to go to the stairs.
“We’re right behind you,” Ryke tells me.
And I suppress a shudder that borders fear (of myself) and something worse.
“Not like that, Lil.” I hear the concern in his voice.
“IknowIknow,” I mutter. I skip a couple steps on my way down to the main deck, and I round the corner towards the pool, tugging on the fabric of my one-piece that molds a very tiny baby bump. When the cool blue water comes into view, I ignore Lo on a lounge chairs. Prepared to just spring in.
I channel my inner-dolphin.
Here I go.
I hop and splash into the pool, expecting the cold to breach my lungs and steal my breath and fix everything.
Instead, the water warms my bones.
What. In the world.
I ungracefully surface, spitting chlorine water out of my mouth, the temperature of a bath. This did not go as planned. I comb my wet hair out of my face and eyes, and I try to heave my body out of the pool. I don’t struggle for too long. Lo squats in front of me and lifts underneath my arms, so effortlessly.
I graze his features, lusting after his sheer masculinity. Snap out of it, Lily. I blink quickly, hoping he’ll morph into a monster.
Not so. Loren Hale
is striking and gorgeous through and through. If he possesses any monstrous qualities, they’re layered with beauty.
“Why are you so pretty?” I say.
His amber eyes penetrate me. “Just think about how awful I look in the morning.”
I let out a small laugh. “You’re still beautiful.”
He lifts my chin so I stop staring at his lips. “Lily Calloway,” he breathes, “you’re doing really well. I’m proud of you.” My heart swells.
He knows I’m aroused. He knows how hard it is to snuff out these feelings that pop up from almost anything and everything.
Dripping in water, I kiss his nose quickly, showing that I’m able to control this. Somewhat. And I choose the lounge chair next to his, lying down. “If I Jedi mind-trick myself, all will be well,” I tell him with a nod. I shut my eyes to attempt this.
I hear the legs of his lounge chair scrape along the deck. The frame touches mine, and he lies on his towel, close to me but not too close. A perfect non-tempting distance.
“You should know, Lil,” he says in a low voice, “that every guy on this yacht has the hairiest goddamn feet. It’s nothing but hobbits.”
I smile, my eyes still closed. Although Frodo is cute, I’m pro-elves. “Are they all short too?”
“Oh yeah, they barely reach your waist.”
“Except you,” I say, licking my lips.
“I’m not an elf,” he reminds me.
I pop one eye open and turn my head. He’s lying on his back like me. “You’re a wizard—”
“No, Lil,” he whispers. “I’m human.”
I shift on my side, my legs crossed together. I reach out to hold his hand, and he lets me, not scared of enabling. “Do you think our baby will have powers though? Even if we’re human, he could be magical?”
Lo nods determinedly. “Definitely. He’ll be the strongest guy ever.”
“Like Professor Xavier,” I smile at the image. But it fades quickly. “Do you think…do you think he’ll forget about us, if we’re just human and he’s something more?” Beads of water roll down my temple.
Lo’s hand rises to my arm, and he rubs my skin soothingly. The embrace comforts me more than it arouses. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I guess we’ll see.”
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