by Clare James
“How’s he doing?” I ask when Jimmy distracts the boys with an enormous bowl of whipping cream he made for the pies.
“It’s going great,” she says. “No need to worry. He’s doing just fine. We’re having grilled cheese at Jack and Philly’s after this and then going down to the beach to gather rocks for our art project.”
“Art project? Sounds impressive.”
“You just wait until you see our daily –” Serena stops talking mid-sentence, staring over my shoulder with pure delight.
I turn around and follow the path of her gaze.
“What are you looking at?” I ask.
“Shhh,” she says, watching as Mom comes into the kitchen.
Mom and Jimmy take turns feeding the kids. It’s so endearing, I almost tear up. But then, for the briefest moment, Jimmy slides his hand on the small of Mom’s back. It’s there and gone before I can blink.
Serena grins. “He’s getting bolder. Won’t be long now.”
“Long for what?” I ask. “What have I missed?”
“Jimmy sports a hard one for Mom.” She giggles.
“Eww.” I shake off the disturbing image.
Serena does a little dance, clearly proud of herself.
“What’s that now?” I ask once I regain my composure. “Jimmy wants Mom? Are you sure?”
“You saw it yourself.”
“Does Mom know?”
“The lady’s clueless.” Serena shakes her head.
“Do you think she’d be interested?” I ask.
“Definitely. It’s Jimmy. He’s great, plus I’m pretty sure he’s packing.” She wiggles her brows.
“You’re gross,” I tell her.
“Just honest.” She shrugs.
I shake my head at my crude sister. I had no idea she had turned into such a pig. I’ve missed her so much.
“Should we tell her?” I ask.
“Not yet,” she says knowingly. “Some things you just need to find out on your own.”
I want to pry some more but the pace is picking up and I still have a list of things to get done. Serena gathers the boys, and before I know it, the lunch crowd files in.
“Order up,” Mom says when I get out on the floor. “Table eleven.”
Great, it’s the tennis girls. I went to high school with them, though they were a few years younger than me.
Yay, looks like everyone is back in town for the summer.
And right in the center of the group is Lissa. Alex’s ex. She was the girl he dumped right before he decided to take me to the prom. Her sour-lemon face tells me she hasn’t forgotten.
“Hi, ladies,” I say when I reach the table. “Cobb salads all the way around?”
They nod and continue their conversation. Some things never change. I pass the salads starting from the left, but when I land on Lissa’s place setting, she grabs my wrist.
“No, no, no,” she whines. “I said no avocado.”
This isn’t my table. I’m just running the food today to help out, so I check the ticket.
“Oh, sorry,” I say. “It isn’t noted here, but I’m happy to get you a new one.”
“Do you think I’m lying?” She leans forward, her mouth still puckered.
“No, of course not. Just a simple mistake, I’m sure.”
“Yes, you know all about those, right?”
The other girls shift in their seats, clearly uncomfortable. Everyone knows of Lissa’s temper; it is legendary. Back in the day, I could handle her with ease and was able to deliver a tongue lashing that shut her up for days. But I couldn’t exactly do that here, plus I was no longer in my element.
Still, I wasn’t going to let her get to me.
“I’ll be right back, Lissa,” I tell her.
“Don’t bother. It’ll be too late. Just give me that one.” She reaches for the plate.
“Hang on. It will only take a second.” I try to move away, but her grasp is tight.
“Just give it to me, Aria,” she says, tugging on the plate.
I tighten my grip, so I can set it down in front of her, but when I shift my fingers, Lissa lets go and the whole thing comes flying back at my chest.
Covered in salad, I try to slide most of it off my uniform and onto the plate. But the avocado in question, and the eggs, tomato, and blue cheese are smeared across my boobs. Lissa and her gang snicker.
Ugh, I forgot how much I could hate Gulf Bay.
The worst part?
When I look up and Tristan is right there staring back at me.
Tristan
“Tris,” Lissa calls over when she sees me. Damn, that girl has always been a little bitch. And even though it gives me great pleasure to watch Aria squirm, I’m not at all pleased that Lissa is the one to do it.
When I first moved back, Lissa and I had a teensy thing. It was a moment of weakness, or loneliness, or horniness. But it’s over. At least on my end. Unfortunately, Lissa’s calls haven’t stopped.
Aria continues to clean the mess off herself and the table. Her face is crimson and I know this can’t be easy for her.
“Movie tonight, babe?” Lissa asks me. “There’s a new sci-fi that I think you’d like.”
I feel Aria’s eyes on me, but I won’t let myself look at her.
I don’t want to make a scene, so I simply say, “Sorry, I need to prepare for tomorrow. Some other time, maybe.”
“Sure,” she says, defeated. But then stands up to give me a chaste peck on the lips.
This time I can’t avoid her and Aria meets my eyes with a vicious glare. It’s both chilling and exciting. If she hates me as much as she lets on, I doubt she cares who I’m hooking up with. Yes, if I didn’t know better, I’d say Aria is jealous about Lissa. A thought that makes me feel like a fucking king.
I take a seat in the booth and as Aria retreats back into the kitchen, I can’t help but worry. It’s become apparent that there’s more than just lust still lingering between us and that isn’t a good thing. Lust and sex I can handle, but any other emotions would only muddy the waters.
One of the other servers meets me at my table and I order a coffee and ham and cheese sandwich, secretly hoping Aria will be the one to deliver it.
Not fucking wise, Green.
I crave more of that flickering energy between us. It’s quite possible I’m becoming addicted to it.
Aria comes out several minutes later in a new shirt, a white one this time, and I’m enough of an ass to obsess over the black bra I can now see under it. Not to mention the tips of her hard nipples that strain against the fabric. In my mind, that part is because of me.
I adjust my too-tight pants and eat my lunch, deciding that coming here was a bad idea. I can’t continue to torture myself this way. It’s time to tell her my idea, and then let it go. If it works? Great. If not, I’ll move on.
Eating slower than I usually do, I wait to get her attention but she never comes by my table. I wonder why.
The lunch crowd has dwindled and Aria sneaks out the side door. I quickly pay my check and follow her to the alley where she’s sitting on an overturned plastic bucket, reserved for the staff smoking breaks. Aria doesn’t smoke, instead she leans her head against the brick wall and closes her eyes.
“Sorry about what happened back there,” I say.
Not bothering to open her eyes, she responds, “No worries. Nice choice in girlfriends though, Tris. Bravo.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Sorry, fuck buddy, is it?” She opens her eyes and stands up, as if preparing for a fight.
There goes that flickering again.
“She is not my fuck buddy,” I tell her, carefully setting the stage and trying not to ogle her gorgeous tits in that sexy-as-fuck black bra. “I’m not involved with anyone right now.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m not saying that isn’t what Lissa wants, but I can assure you, I don’t.”
“I just can’t believe you hang out with people like th
at now, Tris. What happened to you?”
“Me?” I ask, feeling my own face burn. “Look at what’s happened to you. Never would you have taken the shit those girls were dishing out. Not the Aria I knew.”
“That Aria is dead,” she says, each word forced out. She looks small as she says them.
It has me staggering back, a shot to the gut.
She seems so defeated, so beaten down as she stands in front of me with her slumped shoulders and dark circles under her eyes. Yet she’s still the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I can’t fucking stand it. For the first time since high school, I can’t push these thoughts out of my head. I can’t compartmentalize Aria.
I try to find the right words for comfort, to take away whatever feeling that’s made her look this way. Before I can, instinct takes over.
The heat burning in my gut bubbles up. My movements are no longer my own as I press her up against the wall with an insatiable need to cover, protect, heal.
I take her arm and press a wet kiss inside of her elbow. Her salty taste stirs something in me and suddenly I’m ravenous, nipping down her arm to her wrist. When I reach her fingers, I draw each one into my mouth, savoring her flavor.
I want more.
“Tris,” she whispers, as her pupils dilate.
My next actions are far from romantic, or polite. I know that. I should pull back, move slower, or more gently. It’s too late. Tugging on her uniform skirt, I bunch it up so I can reach underneath. This is better; I have more room to work my way up the inside of her legs. More room to test her, to feel her. It’s almost too much, this raw chemistry that wipes everything out of my head but her. At the same time, it’s not enough.
Aria trembles, but I don’t go any further. Not yet. Instead, I move to the outside, toward her lush hips. I trace her amazing curves, before wrapping my hands around them. Then I grip down and hold her still in my hands. This action, however, is more for me.
Once my breathing settles, I use my thumb to trace tiny circles on her sharp hip bone. She moans at my touch, so I hold on tighter, almost rough. Without a second thought, I know it’s exactly what she needs.
Christ, her body is on fire under here. A delicious secret she’s been hiding. Her skin is smooth – and fuck… wet. The insides of her thighs slick with her arousal. I bite down on my tongue to keep my hand from shaking. I can’t fuck this up.
Aria’s not embarrassed, and that makes her even more appealing. She holds my gaze as my fingers come in contact with her soaking panties, and any last thoughts of apprehension dissolve.
“Just as I thought,” I say low in her ear, pushing the piece of lace between her legs off to the side. “You’re still alive, Aria. Alive and so fucking tempting.”
Her folds are swollen and heated, but they separate easy, allowing for more access. I take it, tracing her seam with one long finger. Aria’s head falls back against the brick wall with a thud.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Her lips part before she answers, “Please don’t stop.”
No chance of that happening, sweetheart.
I want to nip at that mouth, suck on that juicy bottom lip, invade her with my tongue, but somehow that seems even more intimate than what we’re doing right now and I’m afraid it would break the spell.
So instead, my fingers continue to explore.
Aria
My world spins out of control. It’s like I’m in a dream sequence in a movie and Tristan is the director. Guiding me. Showing me. I’ve given up all my power in this moment to be in his capable hands. All I know is him. His rough, deep voice. His stormy eyes. His woody, masculine scent. All I feel is the sensation of his touch, his fingers slowly stroking up and down my sex, working their way deeper.
It’s paralyzing.
But though my body might be tight and rigid on the outside as I stand propped between Tristan and the brick wall, my insides have liquefied. And the voice in my head is screaming, More! More! More!
On some level, Tristan must know because he continues his glorious assault on my body without waver. He knows what he’s doing, knows how he’s making me feel, and I swear he’s getting off on it.
In a moment of clarity, I test my theory. I let my hands wander. Not wander so much as head straight for the prize. I palm him over his pants, elated that he’s filled out here as well, and I squeeze his thick length.
With both hands now, I do my own exploring. Over his pants. Under his pants. He throbs in my hands. I slide one hand down, and under, to cup him, while I use the other to stroke. Alternating the pressure and speed almost brings him to his knees.
I get lost in his reactions. A hiss. A grind against my hand. A nip to my neck.
I continue. Faster. Harder. Then, I’m rewarded with the most guttural sound I’ve ever heard a man make. It vibrates low in my core. And now it’s Tristan’s head that lobs backward.
It’s the strangest sensation. I’ve despised this guy for so long – for everything he’s said and thought about me. For hurting me. Yet being with him like this, giving and taking pleasure, it’s such a potent drug. The power I feel in the moment is extraordinary, yet difficult to fully understand.
That intense feeling of control doesn’t last though. I’m sure that’s by his design. Because in the very next moment, his thumb finds my clit and pushes down so hard I lose my breath for a second or two.
Tris takes a step closer, shielding me. In my mind, I know that anyone could see us out here. I just can’t get my body to give a damn.
One slide of the finger deep inside has me spreading my legs and pulling up to the balls of my feet.
One turn of the wrist and I gasp.
Another finger. Another turn.
A pull low in my belly.
There is panting and thrusting until… stars flash behind my eyelids.
And I know without a doubt. I am his.
Tristan
I am in complete control of Aria. In this moment. In this place. But who am I kidding? It’s Aria who owns me.
As I make her come apart in my hand, I use my other to continue its exploration of her body – snaking under the shirt that was driving me insane in the diner. Inching up to the lacy bra that holds her amazing tits, I graze a thumb over her nipple. I see them in my mind, a memory from graduation night, an image I could never forget. Full and heavy with deep rosy nipples that were so responsive.
They still are. So I pluck one and then the other, driving a helpless moan from her with each electric contact. I want to get them in my mouth, I want to taste, but I can’t expose her any more than she already is. It will have to wait.
I add another finger down below and move deeper and faster until I garner a stinging bite to my neck.
Damn, what I wouldn’t do for a bed so I could take my time, but we’re running out of that too quickly. Aria’s nerves won’t last much longer. It’s time to push her over the edge.
I push my thumb on her clit and continue to stroke her. Hard and fast.
Her heart beats swift and strong under the breast I knead, probably more fiercely than I should. She doesn’t seem to mind.
My hands move faster.
Faster.
Until she clenches around my fingers, holding them there. Quickly, I move my other hand from her breast to her mouth to stifle the cry I know is coming. She bites into my palm and I can feel her silent scream.
The throbbing stops and I hold her until she floats back down to Earth. Now this is something I really don’t want to do – the holding. We don’t need any more emotions tied up in this, but I have the strange feeling it’s been a long time since she’s had release, so I let it go, cradling her until she calms.
She looks up at me and those dreamy eyes harden. Her face tightens and her chin tips up and out.
The mask is on and the new Aria Prince is back.
“Now that was something.” I try to lighten the mood.
“You are truly depraved,” she tells me, straightening hers
elf.
“Baby, you have no idea.”
She laughs then, a deep belly chuckle that absolutely charms me. She’s still blissed out. Now is my chance.
“God, I can’t believe we did that.” She shakes her head in awe, almost as if she’s proud of her walk on the wild side.
“Here’s the thing.” I run the back of my hand along her jaw. “I want to do it again.”
She slaps my arm. “You’re crazy. No effing way. We are so lucky someone didn’t come out here.”
“I don’t mean here.”
“Where then?” she asks, curious.
I’ve got her wheels turning.
“The beach house.” My eyes don’t stray from hers. “Wednesdays.”
A strange silence and uneasiness consumes the space between us. The heat has fizzled and the raging emotions have slid back under the surface.
“Let me get this straight. You want me to be your fuck toy every Wednesday at the beach shack.”
“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way. I’d call it an arrangement between two consenting adults. And it’s a quaint cottage, by the way.”
She ignores my joke.
“Is that how they do it in L.A.?” she asks. All her spunk has returned, furthering my resolve. I can give her what she needs.
“Think about it, Aria. We know each other. It’s safe. And we both have Wednesdays free. Could you imagine what it’d be like to get your rocks off like that every week?”
“Who says I’m not?” she asks.
“Come on, I think it’s pretty apparent it’s been awhile. And don’t even think about lying to me, I know you enjoyed every damn second of that.”
“Sure, but that’s because it wasn’t planned.”
She doesn’t say another word for what feels like hours, and begins to pace. Pacing is a good sign, she’s definitely thinking it over.