Sunset Sail

by Shannyn Leah

  His hands clenched the edge of the counter and his head fell between them. Something was wrong.

  Emma strode into the marble and glass room, leaving her reluctance on the other side of the door.

  “Hey. Are you alright?” She touched his heaving back and he didn’t move. “Hey...”

  Emma ducked underneath him and grabbed his face. He was breathing heavy, eyes closed. She stood up, bringing him with her until her body was against the counter and he was facing her.

  “You can talk to me.”

  Grayson kissed her. He lifted her onto the counter, the water from his torso soaking her shirt. Where he was heading, they weren’t going to need clothes. As he deepened the kiss, her concern began to grow. He was using her as an escape.

  Grayson didn’t talk about his feelings. The most he’d opened up to her was at the theater, but even then, he hadn’t confided what had truly bothered him that day in the hallway...and it was likely the root of his sorrow now.

  Emma pulled away. “Do you always use sex to deflect real issues?”

  He smirked at her. “What issues?”

  He used humor to deflect.

  Emma’s thumb rubbed his face and she followed sprinkling soft kisses to loosen his hard edges.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “We’re still dressed.”

  She planted a frustrated kiss on his lips, leaving no room for opening and exploring. She sighed when she finished. “You know what I mean.”

  “Why do you assume something’s wrong?”

  “Isn’t something wrong?”

  He shook his head.

  “What are you doing? Head down, shoulders hunched, breathing heavy?”

  “Push-ups.”

  Push-ups?

  Emma lifted her hand off his shoulders. “This is sweat?”

  His smirk was adorable.

  “Ewww, gross. Grayson!” She slapped him and the water sprayed. “Nasty.”

  “It’s nothing worse than the gym.”

  “Yes, it is. You’re soaked like you stepped out of a shower. I thought you stepped out of the shower. I thought this was water...”

  He dropped his shorts and pulled her shirt over her head. “A shower sounds good,” he said.

  Her shorts were next and she unsnapped her bra in time for him to scoop her up and take her beyond the glass door.

  AN HOUR LATER, THEY’D finished showering and eating, and were now snuggling together in a blanket on the balcony.

  Snuggling.

  She tried not to read into Grayson pulling a blanket around them and tucking her perfectly against him. She tried ignoring Melissa’s warnings ringing in her ears. Emma had imagined flings would be different than this. Yes, they’d had their fair share of sex, but it was nothing in comparison to moments like this−these were the moments she secretly treasured...the moments Melissa cautioned her about.

  Maybe flings, or “friends with benefits,” and one-night stands were different. She did like the extra bonuses of hanging out at the pool and the evening events, but tonight, they were staying in, just the two of them. She supposed that made them friends, as much as friends could be while sleeping together.

  The moments like these scared her. Being curled beside him, listening to his heartbeat, feeling his fingers stroke her arm, her hair, and her neck. She could lie to Melissa all she wanted, but she couldn’t lie to herself, she was growing attached to these moments...growing attached to Grayson. It wasn’t only the sex she enjoyed. It was the most mind-blowing sex she’d ever experienced she gave Grayson credit for knowing how to please a woman.

  He should, he’s done plenty.

  Emma pushed that thought away. It didn’t bother her like she thought it should.

  Why not? Was it because they were having a fling and she wasn’t worried about his other women, or because she was just like them? Was she like them? Fun for a while, then easily disposed of?

  “Hey, what’s got you so quiet?” he asked.

  If only he knew. He would get all huffy and upset, claiming she wasn’t like every other woman and don’t compare herself to them, but did he say that to all the women? It was hard not to. Besides, having a fling was what she wanted, what she’d agreed to, so she accepted whatever the truth was. Everyone did things later they regretted, but she wouldn’t change a thing because it had been so wonderful so far.

  She twisted to look up at him. “Tell me what was bothering you that day in the hallway? The first day you kissed me.”

  He remained quiet.

  “That’s what friends do,” she urged. “Talk to each other. Share the things that scare them, or make them happy.”

  “I can show you what makes me happy.” A gave her a half grin, and then she felt his fingers slipping under her shirt−or his button-up dress shirt she’d slipped on earlier.

  “Stop,” she laughed, grasping his hand and lacing her fingers through them, resting them on his chest.

  “Has anyone ever told you, that you’re a pushy friend?” His kissed her nose.

  “Me? Pushy? Have you met Melissa?”

  His chuckled.

  “Come on, I won’t judge.”

  “I don’t talk about this stuff.”

  Emma sat up. “What if you had motivation?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “There’s another way we could keep warm.” She nodded at the hot tub.

  “You didn’t bring your bathing suit,” he reminded her.

  “Exactly.”

  Grayson grinned and the words poured out of him in a quick rush. “I missed my mom, was feeling guilty for some things that happened a long time ago, ditched my aunt because she was the one who brought it all up, dumped water all over you, and then I was rejected by you, and didn’t get to do what we are about to do.” Grayson stood up. Emma almost toppled off the lounger when he jumped off, tossing the blanket at her, revealing his naked torso.

  Emma swallowed hard, finding it hard to concentrate on his admittance of previous sorrow.

  He turned away from her and she could hear him unbuckling his pants.

  “We are going to talk about that further...later,” she threatened.

  Grayson dropped his pants, and kicked them to the side. “We’ll see.” He proceeded into the hot tub wearing only his briefs. He didn’t turn back to look at her until he was dipping his body into the water.

  Wet Grayson.

  Her mouth watered.

  “Are you coming?” he asked. “Or was this just a ruse to see me almost naked?”

  Emma dropped the blanket and Grayson’s smirk widened.

  “It’s nice and warm in here.” He smoothed his hand across the water, tempting her, as if she might be having second thoughts.

  Emma walked to the hot tub and found herself teasing him. “Can you help out of my shirt?”

  I’m a goner. Forget about talking.

  Grayson’s eyes moved down her front, to the opening of the hem of the shirt, before moving back up her.

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Of course.” He sounded like a shy teenager, but as he stood up, the water beading down his hard body, he looked nothing the part.

  “You have to turn around,” he said, cutting into her man candy time.

  Emma blushed. “Turn around?” There were only a few buttons done up at the front.

  “Turn...around...” he said, slowly with a drawl.

  Emma turned around with blissful anticipation.

  She enjoyed the feel of his wet hands gently gather her hair to one shoulder. Her head slightly dipped against his touch as his fingers teased the nape of her neck. His fingers traced down her back and slipped under the material, lightly caressing her skin and moving around her middle.

  His lips pressed against the back of her neck. Grayson’s hands moved over the shirt, unbuttoned the few buttons and slipped it off her shoulders. It dropped to the ground and pooled around her feet.

  Breathe.

  “Come in with me,” his husky whi
sper muffled against her skin.

  Emma inhaled deeply before turning. Grayson stood back, hand extended, and let his eyes sweep over her body, sending heat everywhere.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said. His thundering, hungry eyes devoured her as she stepped into the heated water bubbling at her thighs.

  Emma took her hand and slid it down his chest. “You aren’t too bad yourself.”

  “Turn around,” he said.

  Emma did as he asked this time, without question. She would do anything he asked. His lips resumed position on the back of her neck, tracing, sucking, and nibbling. He moved slowly over her body. She realized, as the days had passed, his touch had lingered more, his strokes had become more delicate. Now, he took his time compared to the frantic pace at the shower at the spa.

  Grayson’s tongue traveled down her spine and slowly he turned her to face him moving up her belly, between her breasts and finding her mouth.

  She loved when his hands grasped her face, deepening his kisses.

  Emma touched him. His abs, his chest, his back.

  “Be right back,” he said.

  “What?”

  He hopped out of the hot tub, leaving her trembling alone and disappeared inside.

  Where did he go? What just happened?

  Emma watched him scamper through the glass collecting the wine and glasses, returning to hand her one.

  Emma smiled. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. Trying to be thoughtful.” His lower body dipped slowly underneath the water, leaving his torso out to tease her.

  “Nothing more thoughtful than the show you gave me, running around in nothing but your briefs, hugging that tight rump.”

  His eyes widened. “Well, Ms Caliendo, this is a new side to you.”

  Emma gulped the liquid and leaned over him to set down her glass. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” she promised him, her hand disappearing under the water. “You’ve been all hands,” she said, following a trail down his stomach. “Now, it’s my turn.” She slipped under his waistband and he groaned at her touch. “You like that?”

  He grasped the side of her face. “You know I do.” And again, he demonstrated he was the best kisser she’d ever encountered.

  Chapter Twenty

  ANOTHER DAY GONE by and they’d fallen asleep on the lounger on the balcony.

  Grayson woke up and lay still for a long while, wondering what the hour was and whether he should wake her or stay wrapped in a blanket cocoon with her under the stars. Then she shuddered a few times, as the cool breeze seeped through the blanket against her naked skin. Naked...after making love on this very lounger.

  He gave her a little shake, but it only deepened her snuggle against him. Standing, still naked, he wrapped the blanket around her and picked her up. Her arms wrapped around his neck and still her eyes remained closed, her breathing steady.

  Inside the cabin, he paused beside the couch, and considered laying her there for the night. He could crawl into his bed and she’d be downstairs...that was how it should be. Friends with benefits had no right sleeping in each other’s beds.

  In the end, he carried her upstairs. His decision to go against his own rules could have been a result of his sleepy state of mind. Besides, he was sure they’d altered the definition of “friends with benefits” this last week. The scary part, the part that terrified him, nagged him during his lonely nights, was that he’d found a friend in Emma. Where she had a massively close family, and equally wonderful friends like Melissa, he’d never had the good fortune. Truthfully, he’d never wanted a friend.

  Emma was his first.

  First real friend, disregarding the guys at work, or the friends he met at the bar who were friends about nothing deeper than the length of the waitresses skirt. Emma was different. It wasn’t simply her body, which he would never tire of, but it was the way he felt after spending a day, or sometimes only minutes with her. He wasn’t empty inside anymore. His existence had flared to life, opening his eyes and seeing areas he’d let pass him by.

  Now, upstairs in his loft, he pulled the blankets back, his blankets, and laid her in his bed...his bed.

  No one had ever been in his bed. Not even Samantha. Their fling had begun like the others, seeking out the first available spot, limo, or elevator in which to do the deed. Eventually, they’d ended up at her condo for their short lived relationship.

  Looking back now, after the abrupt end, it wasn’t surprising Samantha didn’t question Grayson’s lack of commitment or his late night work excuses to avoid the bedroom...to avoid falling asleep with her. Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Samantha hadn’t been interested in him deeper than his prominent status. Emma, on the other hand, liked him beyond his title, his money, or his overconfident front. Grayson had never let anyone past those parts of him...until Emma.

  It wouldn’t be good for her. He wasn’t good for her. Luckily, she had no idea what she was doing to his reserve, and didn’t seem fazed that more than half their time was gone and soon they would part ways.

  Grayson stepped back, taking time to look at Emma’s naked body on his sheets, and he couldn’t help but stare. She was magnificent, but her beauty didn’t stop at skin level.

  Thinking back, before the cruise, he remembered when his dad told him Emma would be joining them. Whatever was bubbling to a screaming boil inside him now had started brewing in that moment. A spark of life in the bottom of his gut, had started, anticipating her company. Then, seeing her that first evening in her red dress, as he taunted and teased her, was like a feather tickling his insides compared to the explosions going on now.

  He couldn’t get enough of her. For that thought alone, he should walk away, sleep on the couch, and keep his distance. He was traveling down a winding road, blindfolded, and Emma was going to be the one he hit.

  Deciding it best to step away and head to the couch, Grayson pulled the sheets up over her body, and she moaned in her sleep, rolling toward his touch. Her finger gripped his hand, her eyes still closed.

  “Grayson?” Her sleepy whisper tipped the boiling pot of his desire.

  “Yeah, darlin’?”

  “Stay with me.” She tugged his hand, and then laced her fingers in his.

  He couldn’t say no. He wasn’t positive he wanted too.

  Grayson slipped under the sheets and Emma’s body latched onto his side. One hand sleepily touched his chest, slid up his throat, and over his lips like sweet torture, finally settling back against his chest, between them.

  “Night,” she whispered. A kiss followed.

  Sleep eluded him, while he listened to her breathing drift back into a harmonized rhythm. More questions brought great confusion to his mind, but there were no answers.

  He was screwed, and not in the good way. Or was this the good way?

  EMMA AWOKE IN THE WARMTH and welcoming smell of Grayson’s sheets, but no Grayson.

  She blinked herself awake. It was dark outside. She sat up and moved to the edge of the bed to peek over the balcony. There was a dim light coming from the loft underneath. She wrapped a bedsheet around her and walked down the stairs, finding Grayson sitting at the desk.

  He looked up when he heard her. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

  She shook her head and walked to him. “You’re lack of presence woke me. What are you doing?”

  “Work.”

  “Work? At this hour?”

  He nodded, but pushed aside his laptop, pulling her onto his lap. He kissed her gently, nibbling on her bottom lip.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “We sort of half-ate dinner.”

  She smiled at him. “First thought that popped into my head?”

  His thoughtful smirk quickly turned a path to desire, and he nodded.

  “Hungry for you,” she whispered.

  A playful smirk. “That’s the answer I was hoping for.” In a rapid swoop, Grayson lifted Emma’s bottom onto the desk, and slowly began to
slip the silky sheet off her shoulders, sprinkling the bare areas with kisses.

  “Wait,” she said. “Take me somewhere you haven’t made love to another woman.”

  Was such a request too high a demand for a man who’d had sex with so many women? Was there a surface in this cabin he hadn’t set a woman’s derrière on or bent a woman over? Emma wasn’t a needy person. She was content with life and with herself to not need the coddling of a man, but right now, she wanted to be special. She wanted Grayson to remember her not only another desk lay, even when she knew that was what she was to him.

  Grayson kissed her shoulder. “Okay. For you, Emma...only you.” He lifted her into his arms, carried her up to the loft and laid her on the bed.

  Emma propped herself up. She might have woken up in this bed, but they’d made love on the lounger downstairs and he’d carried her up here earlier, just as he did now.

  “Is this a trickery of words?” she asked, half-joking, but half-serious. “You’ve never made love in this bed.”

  “Never had sex in my bed,” he clarified, and she didn’t miss that he’d changed her wording from making love to sex.

  “You’re joking?”

  The sober look that crossed his face told her how serious he was.

  “How is that possible?” She was killing the mood, but her curiosity overwhelmed her.

  He shrugged, sitting on the bed beside her. He was wearing his briefs, and she still had the sheet wrapped around her.

  “Don’t you ever feel like everyone knows everything about you and you just need space?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “This is my space. My condo, my bed, it’s my space.”

  Emma bit her lower lip. Why was he letting her in his bed? His space? Because they were on a cruise and she was rooming with Melissa?

  Don’t read into it. Too late.

  Emma reached up and brushed his hair away from his forehead. “Where do you have sex?”

  He caught her hand and kissed it. “Do you really want to talk about this? When we’re almost naked and there are other things I haven’t done with a woman, and right now I feel the desire to do with you.”

  Emma said nothing, waiting for his answer.