Good In Bed

by Bromberg, K

  “You wouldn’t have a spare feather lying around, would you?” His voice is raspy, sleep drugged, and so damn sexy.

  I laugh and snuggle closer to him. And I’m not sure that’s even possible, considering I’m already halfway on top of him on the chaise longue we made our way to in that awkward-post-sex moment we should have had, but didn’t.

  And why was that? Why are we so comfortable with each other, when in reality we don’t really know each other anymore? We’ve had different life experiences. Reached different milestones. He lives in glamour and glitz, and I live in cupcakes and frosting.

  Because it’s only ever been him.

  I shove the thought away. Clear my head of the crap I was overthinking before he walked in here and sexed me up so good I sat down on the chaise with him and fell asleep like a guy would. Because how wrong were my thoughts? How off-base was I?

  I absorb the moment. The feel of his hard body next to me. How his hand absently plays with my hair. That carnal grin and look in his eyes that tells me he wants to do me all over again. And I definitely wouldn’t say no because holy shit, the man has perfected some serious skills during the years we were apart.

  “No. No feathers. No mustard,” I say with a nod of my head.

  “Just flour and sugar,” he deadpans. He laughs and it rumbles through his chest and into mine. How could I forget the plume of flour and the granules of sugar beneath my back?

  “Is it that bad?”

  “Let’s just say you’ve given a whole new meaning to the term sweet cheeks.”

  His hand slaps my ass in a playful manner but doesn’t leave. Rather he digs his fingers into my flesh there and uses the leverage to pull my body up at the same time he leans down. Our mouths meet somewhere in between.

  The kiss is soft and tender with an underlying edge of hunger. Or is it desperation? I’m not sure, but I let him take the lead. Allow him to choose the direction of what happens next because I honestly wasn’t sure how the what happens next was going to play out between us.

  But this? This I can handle. The soft caress of his hand. The slow lick of his tongue. The warm heat of his breath. The feeling of sinking into him rather than running away. The comfort instead of the panic.

  Or maybe he’s just distracting us from voicing the questions we should probably be asking.

  “Mmm,” he murmurs as he ends the kiss. “Definitely sweet.”

  I roll my eyes and laugh but can’t deny the little charge to the ache within me that he seems to constantly keep stoked.

  He continues with that lazy draw of his finger up and down my biceps. I’m so content, so fulfilled, that it takes more than a few minutes for it to hit me. The darkened sky. The time of day.

  “Oh my God. We missed the rehearsal dinner.” Hayes’s arms hold me still as I try to sit up.

  “Mm-hmm,” he murmurs, the heat of his breath hitting the crown of my head. “I rethought our strategy.”

  “You what?” I lift my head to meet his, shift so I place my hands on his bare chest and rest my chin on top of them. The action is natural, and something about it also feels so incredibly intimate.

  “I rethought our strategy,” he repeats with a resounding nod of his head. “They saw us today. Laughing. Kissing. Not caring who was watching. So I kind of think that by not showing up, we’ll let them assume whatever they want to assume we’re doing.”

  “Like swimming with turtles.” I love the surprised look on his face at my benign suggestion.

  “I was thinking something a bit more satisfying.” His fingertips trace up my spine. Goosebumps follow their path, but my body warms beneath his touch.

  “More satisfying, huh?” I decide to play along. “Like karaoke?”

  His laugh rumbles again. The bite of his teeth into his bottom lip holds my attention. “What was that lyric again?”

  “Addicted to love, I think.”

  “Nice try. Funny how you change your tune now.” He shakes his head.

  “Whatever, Captain.” I fight my smirk but lose the battle when he shifts me so I’m lying more on top of him than not. The unmistakable feel of his hardening dick presses against me and wakens my sex-drugged senses.

  “Watch it, Ships. You’re trying to distract me from explaining my new game plan.”

  And oh, how I want to distract him.

  “Right. Sorry. Where were we, again?”

  “Thinking of something more satisfying to do than attend a stuffy wedding rehearsal dinner because neither of us are in the wedding and therefore have nothing to rehearse.”

  “Correct,” I say, following the logic I’ve always thought but never voiced out loud when Mrs. Layton insisted that all guests attend the rehearsal dinner. They’ll have traveled a long way to see you, Saylor, the least we can do is feed them twice. Ugh. Her voice has no place in my head right now. Not with Hayes beneath me, and his lips so damn close to mine.

  “And so you were telling me what might be way more pleasurable than sitting in a formal dining room trying to decide which damn fork to eat your salad with when all you really wanted was a pepperoni pizza with jalapenos on half of it.”

  I laugh. And then melt at the fact that he still remembers my favorite pizza toppings. “Right. Yes.” I straighten my shoulders and narrow my eyes to pretend like I’m thinking of an answer. “Something pleasurable. Hmm. Oh, I know. We could make cupcakes. I always find that extremely satisfying.” I purr the last words out. Taunt him. Test him. Wonder how he’s going to finish this game we’re playing.

  He hums in his throat and the sound winds through my body. “While I know your batter is addictively sweet . . .” he darts his tongue out and licks his lip, his inference loud and clear, “. . . like I can’t wait to dip my fingers in it and taste it again sweet. But no, I think there is something more pleasurable we should do to make missing the dinner worthwhile.”

  My breath is ragged and my lips fall lax as the memory of look in his eyes as I licked my arousal off his fingers replays in my mind.

  “Like what?” My question is a hushed whisper. Lust thick in my voice.

  He runs a hand ever so slowly along my spine and down my hip then back up to the curve of my knee. He hitches it up higher so my knee angles up next to his torso.

  Our eyes hold in the short distance between us. I swear I can feel his heartbeat speed up. Or maybe it’s mine. I’m not sure because they are beating against each other, but the sensation is overshadowed by the feel and sound of his hand sliding back down my thigh to cup the roundness of my ass.

  “Hmm, I can think of a few pressing matters.” The deep timbre of his voice is oral foreplay alongside the stretch of the fingers cupping my butt so that the tips of them brush ever so softly over the seam of my sex. A hint of touch. A whisper of want.

  And now he’s the one trying to distract me.

  “And they are . . .?”

  He lifts his head forward and brushes his lips tenderly against mine. “First I’m going to fuck you, Saylor. Right here. On this chair.” Another kiss. The heat of his breath on my lips. The deliberate slide of his fingers over my sensitized flesh just soft enough to make the muscles clench and beg for more. “I’m going to pull you astride me. Make your pussy stretch around my cock and then watch you as I make you come.”

  My lips shock open and cheeks flush with heat. Hello, dirty talk. Hello, to an all grown up Hayes Whitley. My libido burns bright at his explicit promise.

  “Oh, don’t you act all shy on me now, Saylor. Not when you sat in that kitchen and played a goddamn siren. Teased me with your lips. Tested my restraint.” He leans forward and kisses me again, but this time with a little bit of tongue and a lot more demand. He fists a hand in my hair and pulls my head back so I’m forced to look in his eyes when I suddenly want to avert them in shyness.

  “This is me, Say. You might remember the teenage boy I used to be who didn’t have a clue what he was doing besides the basics. But I assure you, the man I grew into knows exactly how to pleasure
a woman. I know how to pleasure you.”

  I swallow over the desire suddenly tight in my throat. “I thought you just did.” Once again, my voice is barely a whisper. The hunger in his eyes burns darker.

  “That was nothing, Ships. Not in the least. There’s toys and tongue and touch and ties, and I’m sure I can find a few more T’s to tease you with.”

  “Oh.” It’s the only coherent sound I can form as his dick hardens and pulses against me.

  “Save your ohs because you’ll be moaning them a whole lot more in a minute.”

  And before I can respond, his mouth claims mine once again. I welcome it. Revel in the change of pace. In the unknown. In the dirty-talking dominance I didn’t expect from Hayes but now can’t wait to explore more of.

  A thrill streaks through me as his hands guide me astride him as promised. And sighs turn to moans.

  “If we’re going to miss that dinner,” Hayes murmurs against my lips, “I promise you, I’m going to make the reason more than worth it.”

  Saylor

  “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?” I try to act annoyed, pretend I’d rather be at the salon getting a manicure, but the wedding party is probably in there getting their hair done or something, and so no, thank you. And honestly, why do I need my nails done? The only person I’d be trying to impress is Hayes, and considering he’s the one leading me by the hand down a stretch of sand that’s as pristine as it is beautiful, I don’t think I need to.

  He stops and turns to face me. I can’t deny the thud of my heart when he flashes me a huge grin. I love the warmth in his expression, and as much as I’m curious over where we’re headed, I also can’t deny the desire to pull him into me and kiss him senseless.

  And the thought seems so odd to me. Mitch abhorred public displays of affection other than the polite peck on the lips or an arm around the shoulder. I’d grown used to it. Was compliant. But standing here with Hayes, I suddenly realize how much I missed it. How very important affection is between two people. How important it is to me.

  So while we aren’t in a relationship and regardless of how hard I’ve shoved any and all ideas of what happens to us tomorrow when this weekend ends out of my head, I decide to act on the spontaneous thought. Without preamble, I walk up to him, slide my arms around his neck, and meet his lips.

  The kiss is packed with the emotion I feel but am not sure how to process. It’s sweet and soft but so damn seductive. I think he’s surprised at first but within seconds his hands are sliding up the bare skin of my back, pulling me in tighter against him, and giving in to the demand of my lips.

  When I end the kiss, I love seeing the shy smile sliding across his lips. “What was that for?”

  “Just figured I need to make sure we keep doing things that are satisfying in order to not feel guilty for missing dinner last night.”

  His laugh is quick and loud. “After last night . . . and this morning, Ships, I think there’s no need to feel guilty, considering I’m a whole helluva lot of satisfied.”

  He pulls me against him and presses a chaste kiss onto the crown of my head before releasing me, grabbing my hand, and starting on our trek through the sand again. And I follow willingly, my mind still lost to the turn of events. The mind-blowing sex on the counter. Followed by the slow and sweet sex on the chaise where he let me have the control and used that dirty mouth of his to wind me up so tight that by the time we climaxed every part of me—mind and body—was worked into a frenzy. To the playful double-dog dare he knew I wouldn’t refuse to skinny dip in the ocean. How when he joined me it was so nice to lounge in the warmth of the water beneath the light of the moon and just be with him. No pressures. No words needed. And then of course, waking up this morning to his adept fingers kneading my shoulders, then my lower back, and on down until his fingers found their way between my thighs. How we made love lazily with no hurry. No rush. Just him and me and ten years’ worth of moments like that to make up for.

  I shake the thought from my head. Tell myself to focus on the heated sand beneath my bare feet, the breeze on my face, and the sun on my skin. To forget ideas of making up time or the notion that we’re catching up so we can move forward.

  Because neither of us have addressed that. We haven’t had time to because we’ve been too busy enjoying each other instead. And that makes me smile thinking of his comment before: Ships, I’m a whole helluva lot of satisfied. Is it wrong to feel just a little smug at that?

  “Are you going to tell me . . .?” My voice fades as I see a local man on the beach about twenty feet in front of us wave to Hayes. There’s a blanket beside him where snorkeling gear is all laid out. A catamaran moored out in the water beyond.

  Hayes turns to look at me, grin huge. “You said you wanted to swim with turtles, and so . . .” he shrugs, “we’re swimming with turtles.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Excitement pulses through my veins. Surprise and appreciation do too, but those are directed squarely to Hayes.

  “Nope.”

  “How did you . . . how is it even possible?” I ask, trying to think if there was any time whatsoever this morning where we were apart and he could set this up.

  “What can I say?” He mock bows. “I am The Captain.”

  “Lord help us.” I laugh but love it all the same. My arms wrap around his neck and when my lips meet his again, I murmur, “Thank you, Captain.”

  * * *

  The lull of the boat rocking is more than enough to put me to sleep. Add to it the sun on my skin, the two hours of snorkeling in the beautiful waters of Smith’s reef, and two glasses of wine, and I should be snoring. But I’m not. There’s no way I could close my eyes.

  I don’t want to waste a moment of the time we have left here together.

  And so I prop my head up on my elbow and watch Hayes from behind the mirrored lenses of my sunglasses. He’s lying on the net, or trampoline as he referred to it, beside me. His eyes are closed, face shaded by the mainsail above us, and his hands are behind his head. I take the opportunity to look at him and memorize the line of his profile even though I already know it by heart.

  “Are you staring at me again?” he asks, voice sleepy, smile spreading on his lips.

  “Always.”

  “You used to do that all the time. We’d sit in that tree house with the fireflies around us and the stars above us and you’d always look at me instead of the sky.”

  I warm at the memory and how annoyed he used to get by it. “I was just preparing you for your future career.”

  “Funny,” he mutters and turns his head to face me.

  “I have my moments.” He reaches out and swats at my leg and I scramble away.

  “Be careful, Ships, or else I’ll dangle you over the edge of the boat so your toes are in the water.”

  “No!” I giggle, my face a mask of mock horror. “I still can’t believe that!” I shiver remembering that first nibble on my brightly painted toes from the tiny fish while snorkeling. We can only assume they must have thought they were food. It didn’t hurt, but it sure as hell scared the shit out of me. And of course I surfaced with a yelp while Hayes treaded water laughing so hard he sunk below the waterline.

  “See? I saved you from getting your fingers nibbled on too. Good thing I kidnapped you today and prevented you from endless hours of torture at the salon.”

  “My hero,” I swoon with a roll of my eyes he can’t see but know he knows I’m doing.

  “Bet your ass I am. Haven’t you seen me in tights?”

  “Oh God. Please. The ego.” I fall back on my elbows laughing and loving the sound of his laughter melding with mine. It’s comforting. It’s us.

  The smile on his lips fades. “I didn’t know, you know.” His voice is suddenly serious.

  “Didn’t know what?” He’s lost me.

  “When I left, I didn’t know I wasn’t coming back.”

  I’m not sure how he expects me to react from his unexpected confession, but I can’t deny
that my breath catches. “It’s in the past,” I murmur, wanting to stick with the promise I made myself when I came here about forgiving him, and not wanting to waste the time we have left on things that can’t be changed.

  “I know it’s in the past, Say, but it’s important for you to understand. I left for a weekend trip to Hollywood, a cocky kid with stars in his eyes who sure as shit wasn’t going to land a once-in-a-lifetime-dream role on his first audition.”

  “But you did,” I whisper, remembering where I was the first time I noticed the hushed whispers of my friends who were averting their eyes every time I looked their way. How I finally confronted Ryder and found out Hayes had landed a huge role and wasn’t coming home anytime soon. I screamed and yelled and begged to know why Ryder hadn’t told me the truth. He admitted that I’d lost so much weight and was finally starting to smile again that he couldn’t bear to tell me. He was too afraid it would renew the heartache and start the cycle all over again.

  “I did.” He nods subtly and even though his eyes are behind tinted lenses, I swear I can feel him searching mine to make sure I’m okay with the memories this conversation is evoking. “I walked in to the casting audition nervous as hell, wanting to say I tried my hardest and the dream wasn’t for me, but walked out shell-shocked when I’d been cast in the part.”

  Silence falls between us as I fight the agonizing destitution I’d felt from clawing its way back. The grief. The loneliness. The heartbreak.

  The silence.

  “You left me a message.”

  “I left you a lot of messages.” I can’t help the rejected bite to my tone.

  “You did. And I listened to every single one of them, Saylor. So many damn times. I was so homesick. And homesick meant missing you and Ryder and the normal everyday routine we had . . . but it mostly meant you. But there was one . . . fuck, there was one of your messages that broke me, nearly made me pack my bags and come home. I’ll never forget the sound of your voice. How you were trying to seem so strong but there was this slight waver in your voice that fucking killed me.”