Take Me To The Beach

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  I didn’t know if he’d used his question as a distraction from where ever he had been caught up in his mind or if he really wanted to know about them.

  Looking at him now, my gut told me they might be related.

  I swallowed, trying to prepare myself to stop into his hidden world, and found my voice. “They’re wonderful. It’s just me, my mom, and my two sisters. My mom . . . she’s strong. She taught us to be strong, to work hard for whatever we want in life.”

  Christian had drifted closer, the side of his thigh pressed against mine. Tonight, his eyes didn’t stray from my face, but remained steady, locked on mine, searching.

  I fought getting lost in the murky sea that was Christian Davison, in the places he didn’t allow people to invade, but seemed willing to show me now.

  When he didn’t look away, I continued, “My dad left when we were young. It was rough on my mom, but she never let it ruin her. She worked so hard to take care of us. Even though she worked long hours, she always made the time to make each of us feel special. Of course, my sisters and I had to take care of the house and each other while she was at work, but it just made us all closer.”

  I stuttered through a self-conscious laugh when I felt tears welling up. “We’re all really close, have always been.”

  I quickly wiped the moisture away. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to get all emotional on you. This is the longest I’ve gone without seeing any of them.”

  I forced a smile, wondering how this moment had gone from light to heavy in ten seconds flat.

  Christian seemed to have that way about him.

  “Don’t apologize. I wanted to know,” he said with a gentle curve of his mouth, and I realized he’d inched away, an almost indiscernible separation, but one I knew had been purposed.

  I shook myself off and turned back to look at him in the dimness of the room. “So what’s your family like?”

  He lifted one shoulder, dropped it just as quick. “You know the story . . . workaholic dad, self-absorbed mom, not much to tell.”

  “I’m sorry.” I resisted the urge to reach out and smooth the pained lines creasing his forehead.

  “Don’t be.” Christian sighed and ran his palms down the length of his thighs, breaking the tension in the air. “I should get going. This was really cool, Elizabeth. Thank you.”

  I didn’t know if I should admit it, if he would take it wrong or if he would misunderstand, but I decided to tell him anyway. “I’m really glad you were here.”

  Even if he did take it wrong, think I wanted something I couldn’t give him, I wanted him to know it was the truth.

  “I love being in New York, but tonight was the first night since I got here that I didn’t feel so alone.” My smile was soft.

  Christian had filled that place in me that needed someone.

  A friend.

  Someone to listen.

  Christian

  From her doorway, Elizabeth watched me walking down her hallway. I kept glancing behind me, making sure she was still there. The way she had her head cocked, her blonde hair fell in sheets of gentle waves over one shoulder, and that same smile that had torn me up the entire night whispered at the edges of her mouth.

  All I wanted to do was turn around and bury my hands in those waves.

  Tilt her head up and press my lips to hers.

  She’d taste sweet.

  I’d put money on it.

  She’d have to rise to her toes to meet me, and I could almost feel the way the length of her body would mold against mine as she struggled to get closer.

  The need was strong, so close to being overpowering.

  Shit.

  I had to get away from her and put some distance between us.

  Right before I rounded the corner, I paused.

  Something inside me clenched with the thought of leaving her there. I just stared at her, having no idea how I felt or what I wanted to say.

  Knowing I was acting like a freak, I forced myself to say something. “Lock up behind me, okay, Elizabeth?”

  Maybe it was lame.

  But I just . . . wanted her to be safe.

  Needed to know she was safe.

  Confusion fluttered across her face. Then she smiled and gave a little wave of her hand. “Of course. Good night, Christian.”

  I nodded once in her direction and turned the corner.

  Elizabeth disappeared behind me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was walking away from something that I shouldn’t.

  Hating the strange feeling, I flew down the stairwell and out into the heavy night air.

  Outside, it was still hot, the skin at the nape of my neck beading with sweat that I wasn’t positive had anything to do with the humidity hanging in the air.

  I just didn’t understand this.

  I couldn’t put a finger on what I was feeling.

  I didn’t know if I should embrace it or run from it.

  On Monday at the café, I couldn’t help but think Elizabeth was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.

  I’d flirted.

  Messed with her.

  Coaxed the shyness from her because it was just so freaking cute.

  I knew I wanted something more than I normally did from a girl. That I wanted to know her and see that smile light her face.

  But tonight—tonight was entirely different. Tonight, she had made me feel different.

  I mean, yeah, I wanted her.

  Badly.

  I’d had a really hard time keeping the images at bay, ones of wrapping my hands around her thighs and tugging her away from the wall. I could almost hear her book hitting the floor when I shoved it aside and pressed her body into the bed with mine.

  It’s what came naturally, what I would normally do, the instinct I had to reach out and take what I wanted.

  The thing was, she’d made it abundantly clear we weren’t crossing that line.

  That didn’t mean I missed the way she reacted to me. The way she’d flush and shift beneath the attraction that made her uncomfortable.

  Part of her wanted me, too.

  But there was something that hung in that room that held me back. Something in the softness of her eyes and the in sweetness of her voice.

  Elizabeth had to be the most transparent good girl I’d ever met.

  I couldn’t—wouldn’t—take advantage of that. It made me sick to think of tainting her.

  Knowing me, I’d take what I wanted, get bored, and push her aside. I wouldn’t mean to, but I’d hurt her, and I couldn’t stand the thought of doing something so vile.

  She asked me to be her friend, and I wasn’t going to fuck that up by giving into the overwhelming urge I had to touch her.

  I could deal with it.

  Elizabeth could see through all my bullshit, anyway.

  A sarcastic huff escaped my mouth.

  I think I was sorely underestimating Elizabeth.

  The girl could probably see straight into my soul.

  Chances were, she wouldn’t let me touch her if I tried.

  With a mumbled groan, I rubbed the tension from my face and dug my cell from my front pocket. Tom was on speed dial, and he answered on the second ring after I’d dialed.

  “Hey, man, what’s up?” Tom yelled over the deafening background noise. Music thrummed above the roar of indistinct voices. It sounded like the perfect escape.

  “Just wondering what’s happening tonight.”

  “We’re all at Sam’s. You headin’ over?”

  “Count me in. I’ll be there in twenty.”

  At my building, I took the stairs two at a time and let myself into my apartment.

  Dropping my backpack to the floor, I shed my button-up for a fitted black tee and headed into the bathroom where I wet my hands under warm water, splashed some on my face, and ran two hands through my hair to tame the mess it’d become.

  I straightened and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. A grin clung to my face, something I doubted I could dispel i
f I tried. I realized I felt good.

  Really good.

  Tonight had been . . . fun.

  Refreshing.

  Grabbing my keys, I headed out the door and jogged the two blocks to Sam’s place. I could hear the music pulsing as soon as I landed on his floor.

  With a single knock against the door, I let myself in.

  Bodies were cramped nearly wall to wall.

  It definitely wasn’t the smallest apartment I’d been in since I’d gotten to New York, especially considering I’d just left Elizabeth’s.

  I still couldn’t make sense of the way she’d looked at the place as if it were a palace.

  But here, it felt suffocating. People were packed into the tight space.

  Some were huddled in groups where they conversed along the walls. Others pressed and throbbed against each other as they moved in rhythm to the music on the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the room. More were piled on the two couches or sat on the floor.

  “You made it!” Tom yelled. He had a red cup lifted over his head as he shouldered through the crowd and cut a path to meet me. He pushed out a fist for me to bump.

  I returned it.

  “Hey, Tom, how’s it going?”

  “Great, man, great. Look at this place.”

  I met him when I first got into town. He was from here, had some connections and knew the area. He was cool, a decent guy, my passport to Friday night.

  He was the one who always knew where it was happening and where I wanted to be.

  Sam’s was often it.

  “I see what you mean,” I told him, letting my gaze move along a ton of girls wearing next to nothing.

  “I knew you would,” he said, setting a hand on my shoulder and beginning to lead me back through the crowd.

  “Christian, good to see you finally showed up.” Jon gestured with his chin, clapped me on the back as I passed. “Where have you been all night?”

  I lifted both hands with a shrug, could feel the smirk splitting my face. “Studying.”

  “Ah . . . sure you were.” He laughed and went back to his beer and the girl hanging on his arm.

  There were quite a few people I recognized.

  These kind of Friday nights had become my regular.

  The same faces.

  The same welcome.

  I shook hands with a couple guys and hugged a few girls.

  Tom continued to shout in my ear about who was where and what had been happening, the girls who’d asked for me.

  Asshole made a good wingman, that was for sure.

  “Christian, my man.” Sam smiled as I approached. He slung his arm around my shoulders and maneuvered us around a group of people I’d never seen before.

  At the kitchen entrance, he stopped and waved inside. “There’s a keg and lots of ladies. Make yourself at home.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I always did.

  I grabbed a red cup, filled it until foam overflowed at the sides, and downed it in one breath.

  The beer was a little too warm as it glided down my throat, but it wasn’t enough to keep me from refilling my cup.

  I chatted with a couple people in the kitchen, drank a couple more beers, and refilled my cup again before I wove back out into the main room.

  Music pumped through the room.

  It amplified the slight buzz I felt coming on.

  I sat down onto the floor with my back propped up on the couch, my knees drawn up with my feet flat on the ground and breathed out a sigh of relief.

  One night a week, I allowed myself to forget it all.

  All the pressures my parents piled on me.

  The push to be the best.

  The drive to always work harder.

  For these few hours, I didn’t allow the words my father had drilled into my brain my entire life affect me.

  I just . . . forgot.

  Joked around with a few of the guys I’d kind of gotten to know. And if I hooked up with some girl?

  Yeah, I wasn’t going to complain about that, either.

  I snorted at myself.

  Really, that was the goal. Hang out with the guys and then go home with someone.

  One single intention.

  Just feeling good for a few hours.

  Sam and Tom stood on the other side of the coffee table, provoking each other, little jabs and shoves, the two so blitzed out neither could stand up straight.

  I knew what was coming.

  The two couldn’t seem to keep from making fools of themselves. I was always glad I remained on this side of the show, there to make fun of them for the stupid things they did.

  I wondered how many brain cells I lost every weekend just being in their presence.

  The sad thing was, I actually enjoyed it. Especially when I’d gotten a few beers in my system, and I was feeling as loose as I was right then.

  A slight numbness weighted my arms and legs, and a dull thrum hummed in my ears.

  “I think shots are in order,” Sam announced. He disappeared into the kitchen and emerged a minute later with a bottle of tequila and plastic shot glasses.

  “Who’s up for a friendly wager? Last one standing gets the pot,” Sam said, offering up a challenge.

  Every weekend, it was the same.

  Tom and a couple other guys each tossed down twenties. As always, I passed, though I partook in the pouring and slammed three shots myself.

  The room spun a little, and I scrubbed both palms over my face and tried to focus. There was movement at my side, and I looked to the spot where the toe of a heeled boot tapped my thigh.

  My gaze traveled up the long body.

  Lisa stood there, her full lips pulled into a flirty smile, her tanned legs exposed below the mini skirt she wore. “Mind if I join you?”

  I grinned.

  This. This was what I needed. Something to undo the knot Elizabeth had tied so tight inside me. The alcohol barely disguised it, distorted an ache I didn’t entirely understand.

  All I knew was I had to satisfy it.

  I inched over to make Lisa room. “Not at all.”

  I’d hung out with her before, had actually had real conversations with her a time or two. She was nice enough, maybe a little out of place here, like she was testing herself, learning who she wanted to be.

  She’d been the one who’d come after me the first time, not that I minded. She seemed pretty laid back, easy in every sense of the word. We got along just fine.

  My blurred gaze fixated on her thighs as she awkwardly climbed down to settle beside me. She twisted her torso, just enough that when I looked her direction, we were face to face, nose to nose. I realized how hot I was right then, how my skin tingled and need coiled in the pit of my stomach.

  Fingers traveled up my shirt, fluttered across my chin, her mouth a breath from mine. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

  “You were, huh?” Cocking my head, I looked into the brown eyes staring back at me. They were completely the wrong kind of brown, dark chocolate and rimmed in black.

  Not light and tinged with honey. Not knowing and kind.

  I blinked the thought away.

  “I was hoping you would be here, too,” I mumbled at the side of her face, my nose brushing the length of her jaw.

  Of course, she hadn’t really crossed my mind since the last time I left her apartment more than four weeks ago.

  She ran her fingers through my hair, kissed across my face, and murmured at my ear, “I missed—”

  I didn’t give her time to finish. I just covered her mouth with mine to cut off whatever words she was going to say that would ruin the understanding we had. I kissed her for what felt like forever, my senses filled with the sting of heavy perfume and a thickness that had my pulse beating erratically.

  I fought whatever I was feeling.

  It was this ridiculous sensation that urged me to push her away.

  Ignoring it, I kissed her deeper, swept my tongue against hers, and dipped my hands into her brow
n hair.

  With a short gasp, she broke the kiss. “Wanna go back to my place?” she asked with her body pressed up against mine. Loud music pulsed against our skin, driving the need higher inside of me, something foreign and unpleasant.

  “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

  That’s all I wanted, to get out of there, to remove myself from what was gnawing under the surface of my skin.

  I climbed to my feet and stretched my hand out to help her stand. With her hand in mine, I dragged her through the mass.

  Tom stood near the door, talking too loud and too close to some poor girl’s face. He glanced up as I approached, a knowing smirk overtaking his mouth. “See you next weekend, man.”

  I didn’t reply, just raised my hand over my head to announce my goodbye and got Lisa out of there as fast as humanly possible.

  The second we were in the hall, her mouth was on my chin and moving over my jaw. Her hand smoothed its way over my chest, up my neck, and into my hair.

  My hands dove back into her hair, and I was kissing her and stumbling back as we made our way down the hall.

  Seconds later, she had me in the elevator. The low bleep of the button indicated we’d made it to the seventh floor. I backed down her hall, my hands on her hips as I edged us toward her apartment. My back hit her door with a thud.

  “Christian,” she mumbled.

  I was pinned against the wood.

  It burned into my skin, hard and cold.

  I realized right then that I was sensing too much, the numbness I craved every weekend absent, my hands and mind frantic as I tore at Lisa to get her closer.

  But it was Elizabeth’s face in my head. Her soft skin under my hands. My fingers digging into her hips.

  I jerked my face back from Lisa, raised it to the ceiling, and sucked in a breath as I forced the image aside.

  Lisa’s mouth went to my exposed neck as she blindly fumbled through her purse. Metal clinked as she withdrew her keys. She reached around me to wiggle one into the lock and let us into her dark apartment.

  I already knew the way to her room. I had been there several times.

  I palmed Lisa’s slender hips and flattened my body against hers. And Elizabeth was still there, her hips curvier, her round ass fitting perfectly in my hands.

  I groaned, and Lisa giggled.

  Fuck.

 

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