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Take Me To The Beach

Page 182

by K. L. Grayson, Karina Halle, A. L. Jackson, Marni Mann, Monica Murphy, Devney Perry, Kristen Proby, Rachel Van Dyken


  I was too busy staring at her sexy legs to register the other change, the one that had me jumping to my feet and kicking up sand in an effort to make it over to her. When I reached Fallon, I cupped her face and grinned. “No retirement home glasses?”

  “No.” She grinned. “Thanks in part to Mags purposely crunching my glasses under her giant foot.”

  “I sense a story here.”

  “You won’t get it,” she fired back with a smirk.

  “Hmm, that’s new, I typically get whatever I want… but when it comes to you, lots of doors slam in my face, windows.” Her smile faltered. “Do sliding doors slam?”

  “I’m sorry.” She looked down then up again, and her giant blue eyes locked on mine again. “I feel like that’s me in this friendship. Always apologizing.”

  “At this point, we’re even.” I offered my hand, mainly to see if she would shake it or get disappointed that I wasn’t kissing her instead.

  Slowly she reached out and grasped my hand. The minute we touched, I pulled her into my arms and kissed her hard across the mouth. “I’m sorry too.”

  “I like your sorry better.” She whispered against my lips.

  “Funny, I was just thinking I’ve really got this apology thing nailed down, yeah?”

  “You’re super good at it.” She wrapped her arms around my neck, standing up on her tiptoes to angle her head differently. “Amazing.”

  “I know.”

  “Humble.”

  “Very.”

  “Zane?”

  We broke apart. “Yeah?”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “For not getting it.” I pulled back more and kissed her hands. “But first, we mallow.”

  She burst out laughing. “We mallow, huh?”

  “It’s the only way to stay friends, Fallon. And you do want to be my friend. Don’t you?” I grinned wickedly. “Because I’m a really good friend.”

  “Stop saying friend.”

  “Friend, friend, friend.” I chanted and tossed her a marshmallow. “Hey, I have a thought…” She caught the marshmallow in midair and stuffed the whole thing in her mouth. I groaned. “Just kidding, no thoughts, no thoughts at all, can you do that again?”

  She frowned, then picked up the marshmallow and slowly licked the outside.

  My mouth dropped open.

  She bit into it and then licked again.

  I quickly looked around, like she was doing something illegal instead of molesting the marshmallow and making it painfully hard to keep my hands off of her. I suddenly cursed the fact that I was wearing tight jeans because I was ready to explode.

  From her licking a marshmallow.

  Great, I’d be an awesome sexual partner.

  Are you there yet? Because it’s been five seconds and I can’t keep myself from combusting.

  Just fantastic.

  “This feels dirty.” She chomped the rest of the marshmallow and slowly licked each finger.

  “Eh, I would just go with it,” I encouraged in a hoarse voice. “Can you lick your fingers slower? I want to memorize this moment.”

  “No!” She giggled. “You’re being weird, and I’m not taking advantage of a third marshmallow, poor thing.”

  “Poor me,” I grumbled. “I had to watch.”

  She tossed one at my head.

  I popped it in my mouth then held the bag over the fire.

  “What are you doing!” She jumped to her feet.

  “Volunteering as tribute, of course.”

  “Zane!” She reached for the bag, but I pulled it back out of her reach. “You’re being crazy, you need them.”

  “What if I need you more?”

  “Don’t harm any mallows.”

  “Ahh, say it again.”

  “Don’t harm any—”

  “The other part.”

  “Mallows.” She grumbled, crossing her arms.

  “If I burn them, you have to lick me, that’s how this game works right? I mean, if you have no object to lick, you’ll resort to the closest tasting thing.” I snapped my fingers and then grabbed a marshmallow and rubbed it down my chest. “See? I’m like a mallow, just bigger. Friendlier. Manlier.” I captured her in my gaze. “Harder.”

  Her eyes heated.

  “Much harder.”

  She pressed her hand against her forehead and laughed softly. “You’re impossible to say no to on even your worse days.”

  “And yet you do. How do you think that makes me feel?” I grinned wolfishly then slowly made my way around the fire. “Now, lick.”

  Her breath hitched. “Licking leads to more licking.”

  “Thank God.” My smile grew.

  “And…”

  “What? Are you nervous? Isn’t that my line?”

  “Zane…”

  “Rules are rules, Fallon.” I pulled off her beanie and tossed it in the sand. “And since I’m the new volunteer and the marshmallows are out of reach…” I shrugged. “You better get to work.”

  “It’s not work.”

  “It better not be.”

  Eyes wide, she shocked the hell out of me by reaching for the front of my jeans and tugging me toward her with a jerk. “It’s pleasure.”

  Muscles tense, I stopped breathing the minute her fingers grazed my flexed stomach, her cold knuckles barely connecting with my skin before she pulled back and slowly sunk down to her knees.

  “Um, Fallon.” Voice uncertain I wasn’t sure if I should be terrified that her hands were swiftly moving to the front of my jeans or relieved. I’d been aching for her for weeks.

  But we were in public.

  And it was just starting to get dark.

  “Hmm?” She blinked up at me with wide innocent, eyes. “I’m just taking orders.”

  “Oh?” Was that my voice? The insecure thing escaping between my lips as her fingers fumbled across the metal button of my jeans, and then with a grin, she winked.

  I froze.

  “Gotcha.” She burst out laughing. “You should have seen your face!”

  “THE HELL!” I roared lunging for her and pinning her to the sand. “That wasn’t very nice.”

  “I never told you I was nice.”

  “What did I do to deserve such teasing?”

  “Ants.” She shrugged, shoving my hair away from my forehead as I crawled up her body and trapped her arms on the ground.

  “Struggling just makes me want to keep you here longer. Resistance is futile.” I brushed a kiss against her neck then licked. “Mmm, you taste good.”

  “Zane!” She squirmed beneath me. I ignored her little yelps of protest as I continued kissing down her neck. “You…” Her breath came out in a little gasp. “Have a gift.”

  “Oh?” Another hot kiss just below her ear, why did she taste like cotton candy all the damn time?

  “Kissing.” She blurted. “It’s not fair. Suck at something.”

  “Would that make you feel better?” I pulled back. “Me sucking?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  With a wicked grin, I danced my fingertips across her chest then pulled some of the fabric of her dress aside, lowering my lips to her breast.

  “So. Not. Appropriate.” She gasped each word.

  “I was just following orders,” I said innocently, covering her and trying like hell to ignore the desire screaming through me. Like waves of heat, my blood boiled, surged, demanded I do something about that look on her face, the way that her lips curved into a sensual smile, I wanted it all.

  All of her.

  Us together.

  “Zane?”

  “What?” Our eyes locked.

  “Take me home.”

  It was like having ice water thrown on my body, I didn’t know what to say, was that it? She wanted to go home? After everything? The apologies, the understanding? How much hell could she put me through?

  “Your home.” She clarified, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Please?”
/>   “Kinda homeless at the moment.” I joked.

  “Then take me where you feel at home.”

  Our foreheads touched. “I’m looking at it.”

  Fallon

  My eyes filled with tears.

  Four weeks.

  It took four weeks for Zane Andrews to own me.

  Then again, he’d had me with the first marshmallow, with the first arrogant smirk as he walked around the house completely naked, except for a weird scarf that wrapped around his neck.

  God help me, I might not even make it to week five without asking if I could carry his firstborn.

  At nineteen.

  Was it obsession? Or something more.

  Something deeper.

  He stood and held out his hand.

  I took it.

  I realized then, I would always take it, wouldn’t I?

  He kicked sand onto the fire, grabbed the rest of the marshmallows, and kissed me on the forehead as we walked in silence down the boardwalk.

  My heart thumped against my chest in hammer-like fashion, only to pick up the minute Zane held open the door to The Seaside Resort.

  Where I worked.

  He didn’t go to the front desk.

  Then again, you had to be an actual member to stay at the Resort, so I was more than a little confused as we made our way to the top floor.

  My breathing went into overdrive.

  It was night.

  We were at a hotel.

  Together.

  Hands suddenly clammy, I tried to at least wipe the one that wasn’t touching him on my dress, but it did nothing to alleviate the nervousness as we finally rounded the corner and stopped in front of the penthouse suite.

  It was over sixteen hundred square feet with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the ocean.

  And it was breath taking.

  “So either, you paid someone off, or stole a key card?”

  Zane laughed. “Would you believe me if I told you this is where I’ve been staying the past few days? We’ve been recording so late into the night that I finally just grabbed a room for me and my agent.”

  “Your agent?” This was the first I was hearing about the agent being here. Then again, I’d been ignoring him for a week, or he’d been ignoring me.

  My stomach clenched.

  Did that mean he was almost done recording?

  Going home.

  I tried to keep my body language from revealing my feelings, but I was wound up too tight to do anything except offer him a curious smile, one he didn’t even acknowledge since he was looking out at the ocean, hands in pockets.

  It was too much.

  I needed a moment.

  The intensity of the situation I was in wasn’t lost on me.

  I was alone with Zane Andrews in his hotel room, and I’d all but propositioned him on the beach.

  At least that’s how it felt.

  Like there was this unspoken understanding between us, the minute I grabbed his hand, I was agreeing to never look back.

  But would he?

  Would he look back on this moment and regret it? Would he wish he wouldn’t have taken a chance on a girl like me?

  The muscular profile of his body used to intimidate me. Slowly, he pulled his shirt over his head. My breath hitched.

  It didn’t mean anything.

  He just liked being naked.

  He’d said as much to be before.

  “This is the first time in years I’ve been able to stay alone and not be freaked out. Then again, Will’s next door.” He tossed the shirt onto the couch, still not turning around.

  “Will?” I asked mouth dry.

  “My agent.” He answered while unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them off his body.

  Okay. I really needed a time out.

  Or a chair.

  To sit in.

  Pass out across.

  I tried to suck in more air as his designer jeans made a loud thrash against the slate floor.

  There was nothing hesitant about him, Zane wasn’t the type to get nervous or insecure. At least when it came to the one thing he was secure about.

  Himself.

  His own body.

  What he owned.

  What he kept close.

  Kept close.

  I rolled the sentence around in my head, then shakily slid out of my sweater and placed it across the couch, rubbing my arms to create some friction as I slowly made my way toward his towering body.

  “Are you leaving soon?”

  He didn’t answer right away, instead, his gorgeous head of dark hair hung forward in defeat. “I’m not sure…. yet.”

  He was waiting.

  I knew it.

  He knew I knew it too, his stance changed from confident to determined as every muscle grew rigid across the planes of his stomach, wrapping around his back.

  Nobody had the right to be that beautiful, man or woman.

  Or that comfortable in their own skin.

  Even naked in the shower I had the horrible habit of pointing out every single flaw, feeling my skin to see I was gaining weight, making a face at parts of my body that didn’t flow right.

  Not Zane.

  Never Zane.

  “Zane…” His name was a whisper across my lips.

  His head turned, eyes locked on mine, he waited.

  Why was this so hard?

  Why was he making it so difficult?

  When you let me keep you in my arms for longer than a few minutes — when I’m yours to keep right back.

  “Yeah?” His eyes drank me in. “What is it, Fallon?”

  “I want longer than a few minutes,” I admitted with a large gulp of air. “I want to keep you back.”

  In two strides he was in front of me, reaching for my face, kissing my mouth, sliding his lips down my neck, his hands fluidly lifting my dress over my head only to have his mouth return.

  “No take backs,” he murmured across my neck before his eyes once again focused intently on mine.

  “No take backs,” I agreed, deepening the kiss as my hands danced along his muscular shoulders, my fingers greedy as they dug into his hot skin, nearly combusting as he flexed beneath those same fingertips.

  He was super human — confident in every caress, every kiss, like he’d done this hundreds of times before, but when he pulled back, anxiety flashed.

  “Do I need to get the marshmallows?” I joked between kisses.

  “No.” He burst out laughing. “No.” Zane sobered. “I’m pretty sure I need to draw the line somewhere, and marshmallows and sex are probably your hard limit, yeah?”

  “My hard limit was ants,” I said deadpan.

  “You think you’re funny don’t you?” His eyes twinkled.

  “Please still keep me.” I begged in a teasing tone.

  “I’ll think about it.” His kiss was fierce as his gruff voice rolled over me like a slow-building fire. Every kiss fanned the flames, feeding them with his special brand of oxygen, leaving me powerless to do anything but kiss him back, prove to him that I wasn’t going anywhere and that he could trust me.

  “You’re too good at this,” I whimpered when I looked down and noticed I was naked. I’d literally felt nothing, I’d been thoroughly seduced, as if he’d snapped his fingers and my clothes had just disappeared.

  With a laugh, he shrugged. “I’m just good at distraction.”

  “Why would you need me distracted?”

  Our bodies pressed close together, he held me in his arms and kissed my forehead. “You may have second thoughts about sleeping with a virgin.”

  “Or I may think it’s the best thought I’ve ever had.”

  “Ever, hmm?”

  “Ever, ever.” I nodded, needing to taste him again, almost losing my nerve when I felt his length press against me.

  It had been a while.

  And none of them had been like Zane.

  There would never be anyone like Zane.

  “I want this, with you…” Zane sound
ed hesitant. “But, Fallon, you can’t say anything, alright? In my own time I’ll tell people if I even need to, but right now, the focus needs to be on the movie and the album, not my sex life. Can you do that for me?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Why are you thanking me?”

  “Because I know I can trust you with my secrets, and if I can trust you with those… I can trust you with this.”

  Zane

  Please, God, don’t let me be wrong about her, about what I felt, what I saw when I looked into her trusting eyes.

  I wanted her physically.

  I craved her emotionally.

  To be able to stay in a hotel room by myself — had been like defeating a giant. She had no way of knowing that, but what do you say to the person who, inch by inch, holds your hand while you tell them about the invisible monsters, the type that, to anyone else, make no sense at all, but to you, are crippling?

  I knew there was no going back.

  From this scene, her gorgeous naked little body. She was at least a foot shorter than me, curvy in all the places that made a guy want to stop and take notice, her ass round.

  Her color was bright as she visibly swallowed and then licked her lips. “Zane, you can trust me.”

  “Okay.” My voice shook, and like peeling off layers and layers of clothing as winter turns into summer, I felt myself internally shed every single wall I’d ever put up when it came to sex — to sharing that part of my soul with someone else. I left them on the floor.

  The death of my grandmother.

  The abandonment I felt at my sisters refusing to contact me until I got famous.

  The shame at being accused of raping someone, when I was the near victim.

  The anxiety of crowds and their demanding screams, and how it always reminded me of my own screams in my bedroom after my grandmother died.

  When I was locked in my closet.

  For two days without food.

  Because the lady at the orphanage couldn’t get me to stop crying, and I was bothering the other students.

  I had one bag of marshmallows with me.

  And a coloring book.

  The head lice that followed.

  The sickness of wearing clothes that weren’t mine.

  The itchy feeling of being watched.

  I let out a little gasp as it all fell, crashing metaphorically to the floor over and over and over again like pieces of ice hitting the ground.

 

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