by Karina Halle
Leaning forward, I put my lips to her ear. “Did you like that, sunshine?”
She turns her head, her eyes closed and makes a noise that I think means yes.
I brush the hair off her face and kiss her cheek. Then place tiny, soft kisses on her neck, shoulder, down her spine, until I finally get off of her.
After I dispose of the condom, I toss her leggings and tank top onto the couch and then put my briefs back on.
“I don’t know about you,” I say as I pull on my shirt. “But that was a hell of a lot better cardio than the running was.”
She gives me a sheepish look as she gets to her feet, totally naked, totally beautiful.
“What?” I ask.
She nods at the couch before she starts getting dressed. “The iodine. Your couch.”
I look over. It’s no longer pristine white. The iodine from her scratches has left stains.
I shrug. “Worth it.”
“I bet,” she says with a smirk and I’m almost bereft when she’s fully clothed again. I could have stared at her body for hours. “I have a feeling your house is so white and clean because you like the taboo of dirtying it up.”
“Only with you, my prickly one,” I tell her.
She glares at me, sticking out her tongue.
“Careful,” I warn her. “You go around showing off your tongue like that, I may have to put it to a better use.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t tell me you can go again.”
“I can do a lot of things. I think with you, sunshine, I might just be able to go for days.”
“Well don’t get any wrong ideas,” she says, her mouth turning down. “That wasn’t really supposed to happen.”
“What? The me fucking you senseless on my couch or you getting attacked by a three-legged raccoon?”
“Both.”
I fold my arms across my chest and grin at her. “Hey, I can’t promise neither of those things won’t happen again. You might have just as bad luck with me as you do with animals.”
She watches me for a moment, trying to suss me out. I’m not sure what kind of conclusion she comes to though because she just brushes her hair off her face, her cheeks still pink and flushed, and gives me a small smile. “I guess you should probably take me home. It’s been a day.”
I probably shouldn’t feel all that disappointed, especially after what just happened. I mean, I’m used to loving them and leaving them and if this is what Alyssa is doing, I need to just take it in stride. I’m no better.
And yet I find myself wishing there was something I could do to entice her to stay. Funnily enough, there is. I almost open my mouth and tell her she’s contractually obligated to have dinner with me.
But I can’t do that. No matter what our arrangement is, in the end, I want to do what she wants, what makes her happy. If she wants to go home, I’m taking her home.
It isn’t until after I drop her off that I realize that our fake little relationship is starting to feel more real than it probably should.
Chapter 11
Alyssa
“Pot cookie?” Carla asks me as she appears in my bedroom doorway, holding out a tray. As usual, she’s biting into one. I don’t know how she survives from day-to-day, just eating cookies and being high all the time.
And normally I would be turning her down unless we were spending the whole day together just hanging out in the apartment or day-drinking in the park or something. I tend to get quite paranoid if I’m around people.
But it’s been a stressful week and I haven’t been able to shake it.
First of all, there was the fact that I had crazy mad sex with Emmett at his house last weekend after I was molested by a three-legged raccoon. As mind-blowing as it was, it wasn’t smart, especially considering it started up a case of the feels right after, the feels that I spent the next few days after trying to overcome and ignore.
Second of all, there was the fact that I went out with Emmett three times after that, three whole times where I had to give the feels the middle finger and remind myself that everything we’re doing is a lie. Even if the sex was real, it just complicates everything else.
And I had to remind myself of this while we went out to another fancy restaurant and he wore a slick suit that he looked absolutely delicious in. Then when we played mini golf together and he wore a tight white t-shirt that showed off every beautiful muscle on his body, muscles I knew intimately. Then when we went to the beach to play Frisbee, which he did while wearing just a small pair of shorts.
Totally unfair. I almost didn’t survive. Not just the playing Frisbee part, because I got whacked in the head a million times by the villainous flying disc (some of which made for delightful photographs on the gossip sites), but having to act like his girlfriend and touch him when he’s nearly naked really did a fucking number on me. I mean, the only way to prevent the feels is to keep my distance but I can’t keep my distance because it’s my job to be as close to him as possible.
Third of all, work this week just plain sucked. I don’t know if it’s because I can’t wait to get out of there so everything is extra slow and boring, or that Will’s still gone on the honeymoon so Ted was extra stressed, or that I tried to get it out of Casey that he was the one who took the photos and I actually believe him when he said it wasn’t him.
Needless to say, now that Carla is waving the cookies in front of me, I’m almost considering having one.
She can see I’m hesitant. “They’re very mild,” she says. “And they have walnuts.”
I grab a cookie from her and slide it into my purse. “I’ll save it for an emergency,” I tell her.
“What kind of emergency? You’re going sailing. If you’re drowning, a pot cookie is not an acceptable substitute for a rescue ring.”
She’s right. And I am going sailing. It’s Sunday afternoon and Emmett is supposed to be swinging by at any moment to pick me up and take me on his boat, Sick Buoy. It’s a gorgeous day too, with sunshine and light winds, but to be honest I’m a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. It’s nothing to do with sailing or being on the water. It’s just that all week long, our interactions together have been very public-oriented and we’ve managed to part ways each night without falling back into bed with each other.
But out on his boat…I mean, I know he’s doing it for some sort of photo opportunity as we sail around but otherwise, a sailboat is pretty much a giant floating sex pad, isn’t it?
I need to keep my head engaged and my heart and vagina as distant as possible.
“So how is everything going?” Carla asks. “You seem even more nervous now than you were on your first date. Are you doing things backwards?”
In a way…
“What can I say, the man keeps me on my toes.” I look down at my outfit just as my phone beeps. Emmett is outside. Like clockwork, my thighs clench together, and my heart picks up the pace. I hate that he’s starting to have this effect on me. I give Carla a pitiful look. “Do I look okay?”
Just like I was trying too hard with the running outfit last week, I’m going all out on my sailing one. Sperry Topsiders, white Bermuda shorts, a navy-blue tank top and a baseball cap with a yachty-looking emblem on it.
“If I was a captain who needed crew, I’d hire you in a second,” she says.
Not exactly what I wanted to hear but it will do.
I sigh and head out of the apartment.
The silver Audi is outside waiting and I feel a thrum of electricity run through me.
Just fucking great. Even the sight of his car is starting to get me going.
I exhale again and head towards him.
“Morning, sunshine,” he says to me as I open the door, flashing that gorgeous smile beneath a pair of super reflective aviators. I catch my reflection in them and I really do look like I’m about to go work on boat somewhere.
“Hey,” I say, sliding in and buckling my seat belt.
As soon as it’s clicked in, Emmett is leaning over and pull
ing me into a long, tender kiss.
I respond because I have no choice. My body molds to him, adapts to him, like magnets you can’t keep apart.
And god, does it ever feel good. To kiss this man. To be kissed by him. I could literally do it for hours, the slow, teasing give and take of our bodies.
When he slowly pulls away, he runs his thumb over my lips and looks like he’s about to say something. But he just gives me a closed-lipped smile as his eyes skirt over my mouth, nose, as if he’s in on some inside joke, and then he pulls away.
I should probably let it go and let a kiss be a kiss. But still…
“What was that for?” I ask him as he starts the car.
“The kiss? I always kiss you.”
“Not when we’re outside my apartment and no one is around.”
He shrugs with one shoulder and smiles. “You look beautiful. I wanted to kiss you. And so I did.”
I should let it go. I really should. But getting annoyed is the only way to keep things professional and put some distance between us.
“Well I’d rather you didn’t.”
He glances at me over his glasses. “Bullshit.”
Fuck.
I cross my arms. “I’m serious. This isn’t part of the deal. There was no one around, therefore you had no reason to kiss me.”
“I know. But I did anyway.”
“Because you’re a jerk.”
His laughter fills the car. “A jerk because I kissed you? That’s a new one.”
“You know it…it…”
He frowns as he glances at me again. “What? What does it do? Turn you on?”
I press my lips together and look out the window. He’s got me there.
“And you do look beautiful, by the way,” he says. “You remind me of this movie, Anchors Aweigh? Fred Astaire wore an outfit just like it.”
“Shut up.”
It’s then that I figure there’s only one way out of this.
I reach into my purse and start eating the cookie.
“Didn’t your kindergarten teacher ever teach you how to share?” he asks me as I pop the last piece in my mouth.
I just smile at him through chocolate chip teeth. There. That’ll teach him not to kiss me.
“Sorry, if you’re trying to make yourself look less attractive, it’s not working,” he says matter-of-factly. “Not only do I like things messy, but now I know you taste like chocolate.”
I flip him the bird and go back to staring out the window.
When we finally get to the yacht club, I’m starting to feel more relaxed even though I know the cookie probably hasn’t kicked in yet. I just hope that Carla was telling the truth about the cookie not being strong, because it also didn’t have the walnuts that she promised.
“Have you ever been sailing before?” Emmett asks me as we climb on board the sailboat.
“Now you ask me?”
“Well I figured you had, considering it looks like you used to captain a ship in the Caribbean, but still I thought I’d ask.”
“Yes, a few times. But don’t ask me to do anything complicated.”
He nods as he unlocks the door to the cabin and slides the glass back on the top. “So it’s true then that blondes can’t handle complicated tasks.”
“Fuck off,” I tell him. “And you were practically blonde when you were on Degrassi.”
“Practically but not quite,” he says as he heads down the stairs into the cabin. “And you can attest now that the carpet wouldn’t have matched the drapes anyway.”
I give him an evil grin. “I don’t know, it’s hard to tell when it’s all grey.”
He gives me a sharp look.
Now that got him good. How fucking vain. Of course, Emmett’s body hair is light brown and well-groomed without a speck of grey hair to be seen but it gets under his skin anyway.
“You watch yourself,” he says, shaking his finger at me. “You’re more feisty today than you oughta be.”
It’s true. And as the day goes on it only gets worse.
As do my giggles.
At first I couldn’t figure out why everything Emmett was doing was making me laugh.
Then I remembered the cookie.
“All right Miss Giggle Pants,” he says to me as we cruise around the bay. He’s leaning back on his seat with a beer in his hand and letting autopilot steer the boat, the front sail taut under the breeze which makes the boat heel slightly to the side. “How are you liking sailing so far?”
“It’s not so bad,” I admit with a grin that won’t leave my face. I’m sitting on the opposite side of him, trying to keep upright. “I like how the city looks from here.”
He nods and seems to relax visibly as I say that. “Distant. No one can touch you out here.”
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” I begin, “but I think I might have been a bit unfair to you when we first met.”
“When we first met, or like five minutes ago?”
“I’m being serious.”
“Which is strange, since you were just having a laughing fit.”
“Emmett.”
“Alyssa.”
“Look…” I go on. “I guess I just thought you were a spoiled celebrity. Like I assume they all are. Complaining about the hardships of the life when there’s so much given in return. But…I get where you’re coming from. I’ve seen it firsthand. I have the same feeling out here that you have. Freedom. Freedom to be yourself, to think your own thoughts, to not worry. And while I know that people will tell you not to care what other people think, the truth is you’ve been doing that. And you’ve been punished for it.”
I don’t know if I’m on the right track with all the shit I’m babbling or if it’s hitting home for him because he’s not saying anything, but I continue. “I like my privacy. I like being able to be myself. And on a lesser scale, I’m judged for it too. Let’s ignore the fact that I’ve been your girlfriend for two weeks now and that people are talking about me and there are pictures and all that, because that shit is weird. But I mean like, in the life I was living before I met you, I was still judged. I have sisters you know, and they are all married and they all have kids and they all have that life they’ve always wanted. Even if that life isn’t perfect, it’s the life society expects them to have. Then there’s me, who is in a dead-end job, perpetually single, who likes sex, who isn’t skinny. Those things alone represent me right now and those things are harshly judged all the time.”
Man. I can’t tell if I’m droning on and being philosophical because I’m high or not. I better stop talking. Emmett might get suspicious.
But after a few beats he says, “Go on.”
Did it sound like I was supposed to continue?
High. You’re so high.
“Anyway, I’m sorry that I didn’t get it. I know now why you’ve acted the way you have, you were trying to stay true to yourself in a world that doesn’t want you to. And you’ll pay for it.” I pause. “Do you have any chips?”
He frowns at me and then nods to the cabin. “I think there are some stale salt and vinegar ones in the galley.”
“Yes!” I exclaim, doing a fist pump before I scramble downstairs. When I come back up, Emmett is staring at me quizzically.
“What?” I ask through a mouthful.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. I mean…I guess it’s just weird to have someone understand. And even weirder to have someone apologize for judging me. I’m not sure I deserve that. I’ve done some pretty dickish things.”
“Because you’re a scoundrel,” I tell him with a smile. “And one I happen to like very much.”
Oh shit. Did I just say that?
“I mean…”
Emmett raises his hand, breaking into a grin. “Nope!” he says loudly. “Too late. You admitted that you like me. Let the council have that written down on record. Alyssa Martin admits she likes Emmett Hill. Very much, I might add.”
“I didn’t mean it,” I protest. “I’m high!”<
br />
“Sure you are, sunshine.” He chuckles to himself. “Now you’ll never be able to pretend you hate me again.”
“Unless you totally screw things up,” I point out.
His smile falters slightly but he shrugs. “Maybe I won’t. First time for everything.”
After that, we go around the bay a few more times, both of us seeming to have more appreciation at the sense of freedom out here. No prying eyes, no societal constraints. Just the salt air and the ocean and the sunshine and the gorgeous land around us. Just us. And Emmett opens up to me about his work schedule, how he misses the security and consistency of doing the plays in London, the anonymity of his day-to-day life, how the passion almost eclipsed his need for more recognition. Almost, but not quite.
When we start heading back, I’m pretty sure the pot cookies are starting to wear off so when he asks me if I want to steer, I don’t say no.
That said, I’m still pretty hesitant.
“I’ll show you,” he says, coming behind me as I stand at the wheel, trying to put his arms down either side of mine.
“I’m good,” I tell him, trying to shrug him off. “You’re too enticing to have so close.”
He laughs. “You really are something today. What happened to my prickly Alyssa? I’ll have to throw out the cactus and get a sunflower instead.”
My prickly Alyssa.
Ignore the prickly part.
He called me his.
And the funny thing is, I liked it.
“Just tell me what to do,” I tell him. I don’t dare look over my shoulder at him because I know he’s got that wicked smile on his face.
“Oh really? Anything?”
“Emmett,” I warn.
“All right well let me take it off auto-pilot.” He lifts off me and pushes a few buttons on a console and suddenly I feel the pull of the wheel. “Just try to aim for that building over there, the sail should hold. Don’t make any sudden movements or turn too much in either direction, or we’ll lose it.”
Seems pretty straight forward. I keep the wheel as straight as possible with an iron grip, even as the wind starts to pick up and I have to fight it a bit.