“I was seventeen. Harry Stilman in the back of his mother’s Chevy Chevette.”
“Harry?” I chuckle, picking up my beer and downing the remainder of it. “You had your first sexual experience with a guy named Harry, in a car?”
“Hey,” she replies, her cheeks warming to a soft pink glow, “don’t let the name fool you, he knew what he was doing. As far as the car, it was my idea. We couldn’t find anywhere to be alone, and I couldn’t wait.”
“It must have been a bit hard in the car…no pun intended.” I raise a brow and shrug at my own joke.
Fran shakes her head, her lips cracking a smile. “Oh, it was a lot hard.”
Shit. Now I’m hard.
Another song comes on and I squint my eyes and strain to hear what it is when Fran’s mood shifts dramatically, her eyes growing soft, a sweet smile curving her lips.
“I love this song.” I can barely hear her words over the music, but I see her lips move and I’m pretty sure that’s what she said.
I slide my chair back and walk over to her side of the table as Tyrone Wells’ voice croons the words to “This Love.” “Do you want to dance, sunshine?”
“Is this a dare?” she asks with a playful grin.
All joking leaves me the second I stare into those bright green eyes. “No.” I extend my hand to her and she slips her palm in mine as we make our way to the center of the room.
We stand there staring at each other for a long minute as if we don’t remember the mechanics of dancing. I finally take a few steps until I’m standing in front of her and weave my arms around her waist. She follows my lead by draping her arms around my neck, laying her head on my shoulder. The music moves our bodies and we sway back and forth, the smell of jasmine filling my nose, dizzying my mind. I close my eyes and my head is spinning. My whole life has been one big blur since Mom died. I’ve let too many moments pass me by, moments consumed by loss, towering over me until I became paralyzed, finally opening my eyes to a moment that was lost forever. With Fran though, something is different. I’m not willing to accept loss, only possibility, because that’s what I feel when I’m with her.
My breathing staggers as these thoughts push me over the edge, yet urge me on to finally open myself up to what’s in front of me—the slender arms embracing me and the gentle fingers brushing against the hairs at the back of my neck, the ones that stand from end to tip whenever she’s near.
“Fran,” I say into her hair and she pulls back to look at me, her face inches from mine.
“Hmmm.”
I reach out and brush her cheek with the backs of my fingers and she very subtly angles her head, letting me know she likes the feel of my hands on her skin. “We need to go.”
“What? Why?” She pouts, her plump bottom lip sticking out, making me want to drag it into my mouth.
My gaze drops to her lips before returning to her eyes. “Because I need to kiss you, Fran, and I can’t kiss you the way I want to if we’re surrounded by a crowd of people.” I lean in close, my breath a whisper above her ear. “I don’t want them seeing what I intend on doing to your mouth.”
She stills beneath my hand and when her tongue darts out to lick her lips, I decide it’s time to go. I pull her behind me through the bar and out the bronze French doors leading to a terrace overlooking the city.
A blast of muggy air hits us in the face and I scan the area, grateful for the fact that we’re completely alone. I tug Fran against me, placing my hands on either side of her face, my thumb brushing over the outline of her lips.
Her tongue sneaks out to dampen them and grazes my finger. That hint of wetness makes me crazy with desire, tasting her the only thing on my mind.
“Do you want me to kiss you, Fran?” I whisper, and she inhales a sharp breath. “Because I need to see what those lips feel like against mine, something I haven’t stopped thinking about since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
“Yes,” she breathes out, and takes me by surprise, pressing her mouth to mine, urgent and wanting. My tongue edges her moist lips and when she parts them, I slide inside, eliciting a moan so sweet that my cock stirs, a groan climbing from my chest. We melt against one another, tasting, licking, exploring. I flick my tongue back and forth over hers, the faint taste of rum and God, just Fran, wraps around me until we finally pull apart, our breathing heavy, our heartbeats frantic. Resting my forehead against hers, I thread my fingers behind her neck, massaging her skin, and goose bumps shimmer down her back.
I swallow, trying to catch hold of my breathing, but it doesn’t work because I’m too far gone and I sense she is, too. “Fran,” I rasp, “can we do that again?”
“God, I hope so.”
I grin before I crash my lips to hers, holding her mouth against mine, and she lets out a tiny whimper, spurring me to slip my tongue inside and capture it. She twines her arms around me, her fingers inching up my back to pull me closer and a shiver crawls down my spine.
Our lips and bodies remain locked for I don’t know how long, because I’m completely lost in the warmth of her mouth, the scent of her skin, the press of her tongue against mine. She is all-consuming and I am most definitely consumed.
We reluctantly back away from the kiss, both of us panting, our chests rising at a rapid pace. Her nipples are puckered through her dress, her lips swollen from our kiss, her eyes filled with desire. She’s fucking gorgeous and I’ve lost my words. I take her hand in mine and walk us over to the terrace wall, pulling her back against me. My arm snakes around her stomach, and for a split second she stiffens but then relaxes again. I know she must feel my erection, realize how much I want her.
She arches her head back and I place a gentle kiss to her temple as we stare out at the twinkling lights, the city bathed in bursts of color. “It’s really magical up here,” she says with a gentle sigh.
“Yeah, it is. I don’t know that I ever appreciated it as much as I do right now, here with you.”
She turns her head slightly to look at me and I steal her lips for a sweet kiss before we go back to being mesmerized by the mystery of the night sky.
“My dad bought me a really cool telescope,” I say, interrupting our quiet. “I think I was about eleven or twelve. Sometimes we’d wait until my mom was asleep and we’d sneak out into the darkness to check out all the stars. I remember he always told me to wish on the biggest ones because those are the wishes that would come true.” I let out a sigh filled with sadness. “I remember when I found out my mom had breast cancer, I wished so hard on one of those big stars, but.…” My voice trails off, not really wanting to go there.
Fran places her hands on mine, squeezing lightly. “Do you think you’ll ever see him again?”
I take a deep breath and rest my chin on the top of her head, the topic of my dad always a constant drain. “Caleb and I were just talking about this. I honestly don’t know how to reach him and I don’t even know if he’d want to see me.”
“But what about you? Do you want to see him?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, because I really don’t. He wouldn’t know the first thing about who I am now, and I certainly know nothing about the man he’s become.
I hesitate for a second before I ask my next question. Fran doesn’t talk much about her mom and dad and something tells me I might be skating on thin ice. “What about your dad, Fran?”
Her limbs tense underneath me and she lifts her head away, her posture rigid. “My dad…he’s…dead.”
“Jesus, Fran. I’m sorry. I had no idea.” And now I feel like an ass for bringing it up. No wonder she doesn’t want to talk about it. I turn her around to face me and cup her shoulders, meeting nothing but emptiness in her eyes. “Honestly, I’m so sorry.”
Her arms go around my waist and she latches onto me. I hug her tightly, giving her whatever she needs right now. She sniffles, and I continue to hold her, combing my fingers through her hair in a rhythmic motion.
“If you ever want to talk about it, I’m
here,” I say in a soft voice and she nods her head against my chest but doesn’t let go.
I can feel her heartbeat, a slow boom against my own, the warmth of our bodies seeping into one another. She shifts and I kiss her hair before she backs away, staring into the recesses of my eyes, or maybe it’s my soul. I’m so lost in her at this point, I have no idea.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, fingering a strand of her hair and twirling it.
“I don’t know what I did, but you’re welcome,” I answer, taking a thread of her hair between my own fingers and rolling it around. “What do you say we go back in and find Caleb and Peyton?”
“Sure,” she responds, but still I feel so much sadness emanating from her and want to make her smile again.
“Hey,” Peyton says, when we make it back to the table, “I was wondering where you two disappeared to.” A subtle lift of her brow and a wink in Fran’s direction isn’t lost on me.
“We were out on the terrace, admiring the view.” Fran glances at me, a smile finally returning to her lips. Lips that I most definitely want to kiss again.
“So I have an idea,” I interject, “let’s go for a swim. There’s an amazing pool on the twenty-sixth floor with a view of the entire city.”
“I love that idea.” Peyton bounces with enthusiasm while the smile falls off of Fran’s face.
“Why don’t we do something else instead?” Fran asks. Her voice rattles, lacking its usual confidence. “Like…have a few more drinks or…maybe go out to a club.”
“Come on, Fran,” Caleb chimes in, “what’s better than a swim under the stars?”
Fran tries to catch Peyton’s eye as if to silently communicate something, which I’m now extremely curious about, but she’s too lost in Caleb to notice. This Fran is someone I don’t recognize, very different from the girl I’ve grown to know in just four short days. I’m trying to figure out the shift and it seems to have happened when I mentioned the pool. Maybe she can’t swim?
We cram our way through the packed bodies at the bar and out to the bank of elevators and it’s pretty obvious to me that Fran is lagging behind.
“I think I’m just going to go to my room and make it an early night.” She bites at her fingernail without looking up at us.
“No, you’re not,” Peyton says adamantly. She waves a hand at us and concentrates on Fran. “We’ll meet you up at the pool in thirty minutes.”
Caleb and I wait for the elevator and when it arrives I let him walk on first before taking one more look at Fran…and seeing nothing but fear.
Peyton drags me back to my room without saying a word, but once inside she lays into me. “What the fuck is going on? I want to know right now!” She sits at the edge of the bed with her arms crossed over her chest, her leg anchored over her knee. “Well, I’m waiting,” she bites out.
“I’m not going swimming, Peyton. You go ahead and have fun. I just want to go to bed,” I say, resigned, hurling my shoes across the room.
“Okay, what am I missing here? Did something happen with you and Matt?”
I slink over to the dresser and pull off my earrings and bracelets. “Just go on, Peyton, I’m fine.”
She hops off the bed, her eyes brimming with determination. “I’m not leaving here until you tell me what’s wrong.”
I throw my hands up in the air and groan. “Fine. Why don’t I want to go swimming?” Grabbing the hem of my dress, I pull it up over the burn marks on my thighs and past my belly. “This is why! I don’t want Matt to see my scars! Okay! Happy now?”
The anger on Peyton’s face dissipates, her eyes softening, her shoulders slumping. “Oh, Fran. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’m such a bitch.”
“No,” I reply on a deep sigh. “You’re not. I just….” I cast my eyes to the carpet. “I don’t want him to know how damaged I am, to see all the ugliness. He kissed me tonight, Peyton.” I lift my eyes back up to hers. “I’ve never been kissed like that before. It’s like he took possession of me yet I felt so safe with him, and I’ve never had that, and…I feel guilty saying this, but it wasn’t even like that with Kyle. I was lost, completely and totally lost in his arms.”
Peyton takes my hand and sits me down next to her on the carpet, exhaling heavily. “Fran, ugly isn’t even a word that could be used to describe you, and…do you really think that’s the type of person Matt is? That he would honestly be bothered by that? I mean, I know you haven’t known him that long, but even I can see he’s not shallow. He’s a good guy, Fran.”
“I know!” I laugh bitterly, lying down on the carpet. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Oh, honey.” She falls back and leans her head against mine. “Aren’t you the one who told me not to overthink, to just have fun?”
“Yeah.”
“So let’s go have some fun.” She nudges me with her shoulder playfully. “Swimming under the stars with two seriously hot guys, what could be more fun than that?”
“Fine,” I concede, pouting, “but I’m wearing my one-piece and a sarong, and I may not swim.”
“One step at a time. You’re coming, and that’s good enough.” She hangs her shoes over her shoulder, smiling. “I’ll be back in ten to pick you up.”
After Peyton walks out, I lie face down on the bed and bang my head on the cushioned mattress before flipping over on my back. What the hell is wrong with me? I rub my thumb over the contour of my lips, remembering the kiss that’s washed away the memory of every other kiss I’ve ever had. I should feel more bogged down by guilt, but I don’t. Maybe that means I’m on the road to healing. God, the way Matt’s tongue caressed mine, I could’ve kissed him forever. But I don’t have forever. I have ten days.
I stuff a pillow over my face and let out a sharp whine before dragging my ass over to the drawer and digging for my Norma Kamali red, ruched swimsuit and matching sarong. As soon as it’s on and I have everything covered, it occurs to me what I need to do. I need to talk to Gabby.
The phone rings four times before she finally answers and I relax the moment I hear her voice.
“Fran!” She screams, “Brad, it’s Fran!”
“Hey.”
“I miss you! How’s California?” she asks, and I don’t even have a chance to respond before she starts giggling.
“Can you get the caped crusader to keep his paws off of you for a second so we can have a conversation?” I laugh, thinking about Brad’s superhero obsession. Gabby used to joke about wanting to see Brad in nothing but his cape. I’m trying to stay away from that visual.
“Brad, stop,” she whispers, and I sit here shaking my head as if she can see me. “So how’s the trip going? Is the conference interesting?”
“Yeah…It’s good.”
“Okay, what is it? What’s wrong? You sound weird,” she prompts, and then I realize there’s no way to keep anything from Gabby. She knows me too well.
“Well, I kind of ran into someone here, and you’ll never believe who,” I say, a slow smile creeping across my cheeks.
“Really, tell me!” she demands, excitement and interest lacing her voice.
“Matt,” I reply, and there go my lips running away from me again. I can’t even say his name without a ridiculous grin.
“Matt?” Her voice raises a couple of octaves. “As in Brad’s brother?”
“Yes, and well, we’ve been spending some time together, and well…tonight, we kinda…kissed.”
“AHHHHH!” she screams, and I hear muffled and hushed voices before she comes back on the line.
“Gabrielle Willis! Don’t tell Brad!” I shout with a frustrated groan.
“Fran, I tell Brad everything. Oh my God, I want to know all about it. I’m so excited!”
I can practically see her jumping up and down, popping Swedish Fish as we speak.
“There’s not a whole lot to tell. We’ve just been hanging out.” Somehow when I say the words it doesn’t feel like the truth.
She sighs heavily. “I’m glad. He’s a
great guy, but then again, he is Brad’s brother so it’s not surprising.”
“Yeah,” I reply, and as my mind drifts to our kiss, my cheeks instantly heat. I know with absolute certainty that I want to kiss him again. “We’re just having fun. I’ll be home in another week or so, anyway,” I add, a knot already forming in the pit of my stomach.
“Hmph, yeah. Why don’t you sound more excited about coming home, Fran?” she asks in that probing way of hers.
“I am, I’m just kind of tired.”
“You like him,” she says, and it’s not a question, it’s a statement.
A huge burst of air leaves my chest and I fall back against the pillow. “Maybe a little bit.”
“Maybe a lot, is what I think. And I’m not surprised. He’s one of the good ones.” Her tone is filled with sincerity and appreciation.
Peyton knocks at the door interrupting our chat. “Listen, Gabby. I have to go, Peyton’s here and we’re heading out.”
“All right. Just have fun, okay, and say hi to Matt and Peyton.”
“Will do. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I click end and scoot off the bed, lobbing the phone back in my purse before grabbing a towel, which I won’t need, and opening the door to find Peyton in a seriously skimpy black string bikini. “Jesus, Peyton, you look like a freaking swimsuit model in that thing. That is a hot suit. You may not make it to the pool without being mauled.”
She laughs and twirls around, finally stopping to give me the once over. “Fran, your tits look amazing. Wait until Matt sees you.”
I cup my breasts and push them up with my hands. “Yes, I’m fully aware of that. That’s why I bought this suit. The tag said it encouraged ‘foaming at the mouth.’ Shall we?”
Peyton breaks out into a full belly laugh complete with snorting before we link arms and make our way to the twenty-sixth floor.
There’s a wall of glass leading out to the pool and the view is stunning, but what’s even more unbelievable is what we see when we walk outside. Matt and Caleb are looking out at the city, low-riding swim trunks gracing their muscular forms, complete with strong, tanned legs and, from this distance, perfect asses.
Scarred Beautiful Page 13