by Aidy Award
The small freshwater shower the crew had set up rinsed off most of the grit, but salt and sand scratched me in places I didn’t even know existed. More came out when I peeled off the bikini top. I had half the beach in each cup. But the warm water slowly quieted the goosebumps.
“Danica,” a male voice with the lovely deep rumble of arousal came from behind me. Usually that was more than welcome. But with Grant?
Everyone and their mothers ran around naked or half-clothed on sets, but for some reason my hands still popped up to cover my breasts, which surprised the heck out of me. More men than I could count on my fingers and toes had seen naked, and I certainly wasn’t a modest mouse.
The time I spent at the club, which was most nights, I used voyeurism and exhibitionism to amp up the fun playing with my subs. Through the inviting purple door of Devils and Angels were rules, expectations, and limits which were a big part of why I liked BDSM. Same went for a photoshoot.
Photographers and models had their own special power exchange relationship. Both situations had particular levels of trust built in and that made me comfortable enough to take my clothes off. There was none of that with Grant.
He leaned against the tent pole and threw a camera bag over his shoulder. “The photographer showed me a couple of the shots and the red of your hair matches the sunrise perfectly. We couldn’t do better if it was photoshopped.”
I forgot to listen to what he said. This was the first I’d seen of him and I was too busy being hypnotized by the scruff on his dimpled chin. Wouldn’t that feel nice rubbing across my skin. He was one of those guys that got better looking with each year.
A man in a suit with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened had that ready for sex look was something I could never resist.
No, no. Just friends. Always. It was probably the reason we’d been pals as long as we had. We’d missed the more-than-friends window a long time ago. Not that I wanted to be more than that with him. No. This was comfortable. But, just because we were friends didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate his appeal.
“Thanks,” I waved him off. “Give me a few minutes to change. I’m all wet.”
“Yes, you are.” He said it so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. He ran a finger down the side of his nose and gave me a quick up and down.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was hot for me.
Couldn’t be. “Umm, hello? Showering here. Go away.”
“I just popped by to say good work and see if you wanted to hang out a few more minutes while I wrap up here and then grab some lunch with me.”
“Yes and yes. I mean, seriously. The least you could do is feed a girl and buy her a drink.” I joked, but to stave off the uncomfortable need buzzing through my body.
“I plan to do more than that. I should be done in thirty.” He gave me one last look and walked out of the tent.
I stood under the spray of water for another minute to make sure I was alone again before slipping off my bottoms and scraping sand out of places it shouldn’t be.
Seriously. What was up with all the sexual innuendos and down-right heated looks I was getting from him? Boy must need to get laid. I wasn’t his type but maybe we could go clubbing tonight and find him a nice skinny tourist for a one-night stand. I was a wicked wing-man.
My bag had some lightweight cargo capris and a halter-top waiting. The soft flowy piece of fabric I bought from a local market next to hotel bungalows last night would have been great for the beach, but now would have to act as a wrap. I hadn’t packed for weather of less than ninety degrees out. My bad for not checking the weather forecast.
I slipped on my pretty turquoise matching bra and panties then my plus-size designer sexy beach clothes courtesy of Vanessa Stein, aka my best friend. I poked my head out of the tent and saw a glimpse of morning sun promising a break in the gray weather. Sweet.
A messy bun, some tinted moisturizer with sunscreen and a smear of lip gloss later and I headed to the staging area looking for my ride. Grant was nowhere to be seen. Shoulda known. Thirty minutes in photoshoot-land meant at least twice that. I plopped down at the foot of a tree and pulled out my coveted Eden Stone romance novel.
A few raindrops hit the pages but not enough to keep me from plowing through an arranged marriage, a ball, and one hot sex scene, even if it was vanilla.
“I hear women who read romance have better sex lives.” Grant’s shadow blocked my light and his actual body staved off the drip-drops. He’d changed into
“Oh, we do.” I stuck my bookmark between the pages and dropped the book back in my bag. Grant reached his hand down and hauled me up. I hadn’t expected him to pull me up quite so easily and I over shot the standing-up part of the maneuver. I plowed right into him and he had to wrap both arms around me to keep us from falling back down into the sand.
How was it after a long morning in the sun and wind working hard he still looked crisp and smelled so damn good. Like right before a summer storm mixed with his own brand of sexy man. I certainly did not remember his arms being so muscled or his chest so, so, warm and comfortable.
Grant cleared his throat and I tilted my head back putting our mouths within kissing distance. All those bedroom-eyed looks he’d been giving me must have rubbed off.
That was not what our relationship was. Cool your jets girly hormones who were currently swooning. This ain’t no romance novel.
I stepped back, brushing the sand off my pants. Nothing to see here. “Uh, thanks.”
“No problem.” Grant held his arm toward the direction of the road. We walked to the boat area and the way he was dressed to impress I expected a yacht water-limo or something. The crew, a few other models, and I had come over in a dive boat that had been requisitioned to haul us and all the gear. It was still there waiting, but next to it a big ole speedboat sat tied to the end of the dock. Well, didn’t that say cool young executive? Or a photographer who hadn’t yet given up his freedom for a desk.
“Hop in.”
Grant drove too fast and I loved it. Tortuga Island had been a disappointment so far, but it looked like the sun was finally coming out to play. and the afternoon would be perfect. I couldn’t help but stand up in my seat, grab onto the windscreen and tip my head back, letting the wind whip through my hair, and soak in the sun and fun.
The restaurant turned out to be a hole in the wall on the side of the water, within walking distance of the string of resorts in Montezuma. It couldn’t be called a shack, it was too big, but it wasn’t much more. We stepped inside and where I expected rickety tables and one old guy drinking a beer at the bar were people crammed in every square inch.
Grant walked behind me and when the chairs got really thick, he placed his hand on the small of my back guiding me through the masses.
A tingle hit me low in my belly. That wouldn’t do. Bad libido, bad, bad libido.
Grant was not the submissive type. I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about sex or what positions he liked anyway.
We were seated at the edge of the shore under an umbrella of faux palm leaves. Hopefully the weather would hold out long enough that I could get some of the grilled seafood be making my mouth water.
Before the host could get away I placed an order. “Can I get a Perrier, we’ll both have whatever beer you’ve got in a bottle and a double order of those giant prawns I saw on the grill.”
The host tipped his head and was smart enough not to defer to the man sitting across from me. “Coming right up.”
“What?” I smiled my best trouble-maker grin at him. “You wanted a beer.”
He nodded and sat forward with his arms on the table. “I did.”
Sitting across from Grant proved to be even easier than I remembered. “Okay, then.”
Not that I thought we were building a relationship or anything, but an afternoon with him would be fun. An island fling even more so. But, that wasn’t on the menu.
“So, what’s on the agenda for tonight and tomorrow?” Anything to g
et my mind off how delicious he looked.
“We eat, we play, we eat some more, we play some more, we take a shit-ton of pictures, we fly home.”
Pretty sure his definition of play was not the same as mine. Better if I didn’t sound too interested in his extra-curricular play time.
I accidentally barraged him with questions. “Another shoot tomorrow morning or during the day? That photographer you had me work with today was damn good. Where’d you get her? Have you done a lot with her?”
Have you done her?
Fishing much? Yes. Yes, I was.
Grant didn’t blink twice at all my blather. “I ran into her and her partner on a shoot I did in Canada last year. I figured if she could make the native people of Nunavut look good, she’d do even better with models.”
“Partner?” Uh-huh, that was the part I glommed onto.
Grant leaned closer and lowered his voice to this sexy bedroom growl I’d never heard before. “Don’t play dumb, love. We both know you were asking if I was sleeping with her.” His gaze flicked back and forth between my eyes, like he was searching, not for the truth, but if I’d own up to it. I don’t know if he found what he was looking for in me or not, but he leaned back as if that moment of connection never happened. “I’m not her type.”
I was still glued to some weird jealous streak. “Yeah, but she’s yours.”
“Is she? How would you know?” He half-laughed like he thought I didn’t know him at all.
I did. Better than most any other people in my life. “Because I have eyes.”
“That you use to read the tabloids?” The words spitooned from his mouth.
I liked the tab rags about as much as he did. Which is to say like they were made of manure. Which they were. But, it was too much fun to push his buttons now. “Guilty pleasure.”
“Don’t believe everything you see or hear,” he said shaking his head at me.
Back to the important information I needed. “You can’t tell me that under her baggy cargo pants and the four-cameras hung around her neck you didn’t notice her nine-foot legs and C-cups.”
“I didn’t. I’m more of a D-cup man myself.” His eyes drifted down to the front of my shirt.
I was not his type. He’d always dated traditionally pretty women, like photographer Barbie. But, there was no mistaking the heat in that glance. While the cleavage and my girls had super powers when it came to mesmerizing men, they had never had that effect on Grant.
Until today.
Hee was maybe even drooling. Until his eyes popped back up and he winked at me.
Seriously?
Two could play this game.
Hurricane Schmurricane
I arched my back and watched his expression. “Double D, thank you very much.”
Damn if his eyes didn’t go all dark.
“Ha, you’re not as immune to my curves as you thought, buster.” Or as much as I’d thought.
“Who said I was?” His voice had gone as dark as his eyes.
Who indeed? Our friends in college for one. True I’d had a disgustingly sloppy schoolgirl crush on him. No way I had the confidence back then to make a move.
We’d had classes together and I very specifically made sure to sit near him or get assigned to work groups, so I could get to know him. Too bad for me he’d had a girlfriend. We had become fast friends.
No one had ever understood how we’d spent so much time hanging out and weren’t sleeping together. I’d even lost a boyfriend over it. Not wanting that to happen again I’d made sure to tell any other boys I dated that I wasn’t Grant’s type.
“Every girl you ever dated in college.” The squirrely sophomoronic types he’d gone out with were very outspoken about how obvious it was that our relationship was platonic. Helped me build the thick skin I had today.
“Oh, Christ.” He leaned back and snatched up his beer, laughing. “I could say the same about all the boys you toyed with.”
“I didn’t toy with boys.” Back then.
“Sure you did. You still do.”
Did he know? “Maybe. How would you know?”
“I have eyes too.”
Very nice ones. That were staring at my boobs again. “Hey, dickhead, up here.” I clicked my fingers in front of his face.
He grinned and took another swig of beer. “Who are you seeing these days?”
“I broke it off with the latest guy last week.” A tiny white lie.
“Really?” He dragged the word out in the very-interesting-piece-of-information way. “For the first time in the history of our history, we’re both unattached at the same time.”
“You always have at least two or three girls in the wings, I think you’ll be fine. How long have you been keeping your harem waiting for you to recuperate from your not-so-broken heart?”
“Months.” He wasn’t joking.
His heart was shatter-proof. He never let girls get under his skin or into his heart.
“Aha, so that’s why you’ve been eyeing my chest all afternoon.” I pointed at him. “You’re horny.”
Any other explanation for his flirty behavior and loaded innuendos hit too close to a long dead version of me that wished for something that could never be. I wasn’t ready to resurrect those old feelings into a simpering zombie fed on the idealistic brain of a girl with a puppy love.
“You have no idea.” His voice dropped to that husky tone from the shower this morning.
“I knew it. That explains a lot.” Like why my own knees were feeling a little weak at the moment. Horniness is contagious. Right? Right.
“Does it?”
“Why don’t we hit the clubs tonight? We’ll find some vacation flings.” Did Costa Rica have a kink scene? Oops. Nope. I was on a BDSM break. Which for me meant no sex, regardless if Angelina and Jim thought I should try vanilla again. Maybe I could dance this sexual energy off on the dance floor.
Grant set his beer down and tapped his fingers on the table. “What if I’m not looking for a fling?”
The set of his jaw and the crinkle in his forehead sent a swirl of prickles into my brain.
“Nooo.” I refused to take him seriously no matter how sincere he seemed. Because if Grant was looking for more… no. Nope. No way. We were not meant to go there. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is the perfect place for it. You can’t tell me you’re ready to settle down.”
“Can’t I?” He didn’t actually answer the question. But the way he kept answering my question with questions was a tell tale sign that we were getting into vulnerable territory.
The kind that happened on really late nights after a few drinks and got way to close to admitting real feelings for someone. Not that that had ever happened between Grant and I college, or after college.
Okay – maybe once. Twice.
I needed to take this conversation back to the light side. “Oh, I see. Taking over the family business and you think it’s time to grow up, don’t you? Find a nice girl, raise a family you can take to company picnics.”
That was always the running joke.
“I don’t know about the company picnics part, or the nice girl for that matter. But, yeah.”
Crap. Why, oh why, did he insist on being so serious. I wouldn’t let him. “Where is my devil may care friend? What have you done with him? Because he swore to me he was never getting married as long as there were more women in the world he hadn’t yet bedded.”
He shook his head. “I never said that.”
I waved a hand swatting away the fact that he hadn’t. That was always his attitude. “Sure you did.”
“I’ve never taken you to bed.” Every word was laden with intents and purposes and a shit ton of we-should-remedy-that-right-now.
We held each other’s gaze for a long time. In a way that should have been uncomfortable. Grant broke the staring contest first, signaled to the waiter that he was ready for the bill. Before the check came he set several bills on the table and stood up.
He reached a hand
out to me. A question was there, implied in his gesture. If I took his hand we’d cross a line that had stood between us for years.
Grant wasn’t submissive in any way, shape, or form.
Neither was I. I could never allow myself to be.
We’d have no chance at a long-term real relationship once sex entered the equation.
Could we be friends with benefits? My gut said no. My hormones said, pretty please. What if Angelina was right?
Out of all the men in the universe it was Grant I trusted. If the sex didn’t work out, I could be honest with him about it. If it did, well, I could be honest about that too. Where our relationship would go from here couldn’t be bad. Friends, or friends with benefits. Both worked.
I stood up and moved to take his hand.
Too late.
He slid them both into his pockets.
Relief washed over me in pinpricks as if my whole body had fallen asleep and I needed to stomp around to wake it up. Phew. That had been a close call. What a colossal fuck-up sleeping with Grant would have been.
He smiled in a way I recognized from a lifetime of putting on a happy face. “I heard there’s an easy walk up to a waterfall not far from here. Let’s go try it out.”
A walk? I guess we had to do something to avoid letting this become awkward. It wasn’t what my body wanted. She’d been raring to hop into the sack. My self-preservation armor told it to go to hell.
“Yeah, sounds fun.”
Not as fun as orgasms, but they tended to make me dumb. So, a stroll to see some sights would be the smart thing to do.
Grant was silent for the whole ride back to the island. If he wanted to be Mr. McBroodyPants he could. I applied another layer of sunscreen, popped on my dark sunglasses and caught some extra vitamin D rays. Which turned out to be few and far between.