A Very Dirty Wedding (41 page)

"I'm not a tease," I say.

"Then you're just a prude."

"I'm not a prude, either," I say.  "You don't even know me."

"Then strip.  I'll even keep my boxers on."

"How magnanimous of you."

"Come on, Delaney," he says.  "You know you can't use big words like that around me.  I'm a dumb biker."

"Hah."  I laugh because that's bullshit.  Gaige might be a biker, and maybe he's more mechanically than book inclined, but he's not stupid.  "Fuck it.  Fine."

"Did you just say fine, you'd fuck me?"

"Fuck it, I said.  You heard me just fine.  Fuck it.  Fuck it."  I pull my shirt over my head.  "Keep your boxers on and I'll come in."

"Naked?"

"No, not naked, jackass."  I unbutton my jeans and slide them down my legs.  "You better be right about nobody coming out here."

He's already chest deep in the water, then leaning back, drifting toward the grotto.  "Live a fucking little, Delaney," he says.  "Your father and my mother aren't coming out here, and the staff left after the dining room drama, I'm sure.  It's just you and me."

I kick my jeans off, shivering in the coolness of the evening air on my skin.  But the chill isn't the only reason I'm shivering.  I'm shivering because I know Gaige is looking at me.  I tell myself to stop feeling self-conscious.  It's not like Gaige hasn't seen a bra and panties on a million other girls, and besides, it'd be no different than if I'd have grabbed my bikini upstairs before we came down here.  I'm glad I picked these boy shorts to wear under my jeans instead of the thongs I usually wear.  "It's cold."

"Then you should get in," he says.  "The pool is warm.  Stop standing there shivering in your underwear and jump in already."

I slide into the water, sinking up to my neck, as if the water itself affords me some protection from Gaige's gaze.  We float around lazily in silence for a long time, before coming to rest side by side, our arms on the edge of the pool inside the grotto.

"Do you think our parents are going to split up?" I ask.  I don't know why I ask the question.  I looked at my father tonight and saw how unhappy he was.

"Would it matter?" Gaige asks.  I'm suddenly aware of how close we are to each other, side by side like this.  The distance between us feels like nothing.

"No," I say.  "Why would it?"

"We wouldn't be siblings anymore," he says.

"We aren't now, Gaige."

"Then it doesn't matter now."  He's looking at me, in my eyes, and then down at my lips.  I realize I'm holding my breath, waiting for something, I don't know what.

That's a lie.  I know exactly what I'm waiting for.

Him to make a move.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Gaige

I'm standing in the water, facing Delaney, looking at her under the soft lights that illuminate the darkness of the grotto area, the lights that bounce off the water and create this shimmery effect.  Delaney's hair tumbles down her shoulders in waves, the ends floating in the water around her.

I consider kissing her, and the instant the thought crosses my mind, I'm as hard as a fucking rock, my cock standing at attention in the pool.  Delaney opens her mouth like she's going to say something, and then closes it again.

"Don't," I warn.

"Don't what?" She scrunches her forehead, and there's something about that expression, so familiar, that pushes me over the edge.  We're the old Delaney and the old Gaige.  I don't want to think about any other bullshit.

I reach out, my hands on her arms, and lift her easily in the water, turning her and pressing her back up against the edge of the pool.  She looks up at me, her face this mixture of lust and something I can't quite place.  "Don't say anything," I tell her.

"Why?" she asks, and her voice is breathy.  I don't want to listen to anything else.  I silence her with my mouth, bringing my lips down hard against hers, and she whimpers as she melts into me.  The minute my lips touch hers, the minute my hands are on her body, caressing her soft skin, I feel like I'm back there again with her.  Her tongue finds mine, hesitating at first.

Then she moans into my mouth, and I'm fucking done.

I push her hard against the side of the pool, reaching up and threading my fingers through her hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her toward my mouth.

I want to devour this fucking girl.

I kiss her so hard that when I finally draw away from her, she gasps for air.  I'm still holding onto her hair, yanking it so that her face is angled up toward me.

Her mouth falls open, and she flicks her tongue over her lower lip, still plump from the kiss.  Her chest rises and falls, and holy shit I want to put my mouth on her tits.  I think my goddamned heart is going to pound right out of my chest, I want her so bad.

This is how people have heart attacks,
I think.  I don't even have my cock in her and I feel like my fucking heart is about to explode.

"Gaige, this can't - "

I put my finger over her lips.  Shit, those lips.  I imagine her opening those lips and wrapping them around the end of my finger.  My cock might actually explode if I think about anything else she might do with those lips.  "Sssh," I tell her.  "Whatever's going through that brain of yours, turn it off."

"But we -"

I press more firmly with my finger, looking into her eyes as I move it lower, over her chin, down her neck, and then in between her breasts.  Her eyes flutter closed, and I trace my finger over the tops of her mounds, leaning close to her and touching the tip of my tongue to her earlobe.  I nip the edge of her earlobe gently, pulling it into my mouth, and cup her breast with my hand as she arches against my palm.

"Oh God," she whispers.

"I want to hear you say that over and over," I tell her.  I lower my voice to a whisper, my mouth close to her ear, as she runs her hand across my abdomen.  "I want to run my tongue over every goddamned inch of your body.  I want to plunge my cock into that sweet pussy of yours until you're fucking breathless."

Her eyes flutter open, and she looks at me, her expression one of unbridled lust.  "Gaige, I -- we -- I don't know."

"Do I need to kiss you again, so that you do know?"  I ask.  I slide the palm of my hand over her abdomen and then between her legs, and she grabs my wrist, wrapping her hand around it just as my fingers land on her clit.  I watch her facial expression change as I apply pressure to it, slow movements.  I can't fucking believe my hand is between her legs.  "Or do I need to put my mouth on your pussy instead?"

And, just like that, she pulls my wrist away, shakes her head like she's shaking off some kind of bad dream.  "We
can't,
Gaige."

Delaney is trying to step away from me, but I grab her arm.  "What is the deal with you?"  My voice comes out more irritated-sounding than I mean it, but shit, I'm worked up.

"You're asking what's the deal with me?" she asks.  "Just because I don't want to screw you in the pool?  Let go of me."

"You're hot one second and cold the next, so yeah, what's the fucking deal?"

She jerks her arm away.  "The
fucking deal
is that we can't, okay?" she says.  "It's not a good idea."

"Because of the sibling thing?"  Delaney has already turned around and stepping out of the pool, wrapping herself in a towel.  "Don't worry, our parents are a colossal train-wreck anyway."

"No, okay?" she says, rubbing the towel along the length of her body.  "Because of...
reasons
."

"Reasons."  I get out of the water, and yank a towel out of the basket by the pool, irritated at myself for even messing with this girl.  "You've got reasons.  That's something, Delaney."

"I can have whatever reasons I want for not going farther with you," she says, toweling off her hair.  Her nipples are hard underneath the fabric of her bra, and even in the chill of the air my cock strains against the fabric of my boxers.

Fuck it.
  I strip them off, right in front of her.

"What are you doing?" she asks.  But she looks at me, mouth agape, like I knew she would.  I stand there for a second, before I start drying myself off again.

"I'm getting myself dried off so I can put my clothes back on and go up to bed, Delaney," I say.  "What are
you
doing?"

She sets her jaw, brings her gaze upward.  "I'm doing the same."

"I wouldn't want to interfere with your
reasons
for not wanting to mess with me," I say.  "Since you're trying to keep it professional and all.  I mean, obviously, the large quantities of condoms you deposited in my room were extremely professional."

"Damn it," she says.  "That's not what it is at all."

I pull on my jeans, sans boxers, and zip them up, while she stands there shivering, her towel wrapped around her.  I bend down to pick up my t-shirt.  "You can take your wet clothes off, Delaney," I say.  "You don't have to worry your pretty little head about me looking at you.  I have no desire to hook up with someone who doesn't want me."

Delaney turns around, shimmying out of her panties and bra, the towel still wrapped around her body, as if she has to shield herself from my view because I'm the one who was all over her, completely and entirely unwanted, and she was the one who had zero interest in me.  Like she wasn't moaning into me.  If my fingers had made it an inch further, I know that I'd have found that she was soaked.  I don't know why she's denying it.

Delaney groans her frustration.  "That's not what I said, Gaige," she says.  "I didn't say I don't want --"

"Don't worry," I say.  "It's done.  That ship has sailed."  When I finally finish getting the boot back on, I toss the empty bottles in the trash without giving Delaney a second glance.

"Fine," I hear her say.

"Fine."  I walk out, letting the gate door close, as if I'm not giving her another moment's thought.

Except that's exactly the opposite of the truth.  Delaney is all I can think about.  I go up to my room to change, now regretting the fact that I just had the guesthouse fake-fumigated, and head to the gym to pound out a workout.

I just don't get what the deal is with her.  I've never understood her.  One minute she's practically panting in my arms, and then next she's prickly like a damn porcupine.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Delaney

I've fucked things up with Gaige.  We were getting along, and then he had to go and kiss me.  Or, rather, then I had to go and strip down and get into the pool with him.  What else did I think was going to happen?  I knew exactly what I wanted to happen.

But when he was telling me what he wanted to do to me, I froze.  I couldn't help but think about what would happen if I went through with it.  I won't be another notch on Gaige's bedpost.  I can't.  Not with how I felt about him before.

It's been almost two weeks since I've even seen him, which is pretty much unimaginable, given the fact that we're living in the same house.  At least I
think
we are.  The tent is off the guesthouse, so I suppose he could have already moved back in.  He hasn't even shown up at the office, not that I expected him to.

"Hey, Earth to Delaney," Daniel says.  "I said, are you going to go out with him?"

"Who?" I ask.

"
Who
?" he repeats.  "
Who
is that hot guy who was just talking to us, the one I was basically carrying the conversation with, by the way.  What's the point of even going to happy hour to pick up guys if you're not going to make an effort?  He left you his card."

"Sorry," I say.  "I'm just distracted."

"No shit.  Distracted by
who
, is the question?"

"No one," I lie.  "Maybe the card was for you."

"No, that boy – Bennet –" he says, picking up the card and reading the name.  "Is straight as an arrow.  Which is just my luck, too.  But you're in greater need than I am.  You're going to grow cobwebs down there if you don't dust that thing off and get some."

"Shut up," I protest.  "There are no cobwebs growing on my vag, thank you very much."

"When's the last time you got laid?"

"None of your business!"

"Six months ago," Daniel says.  "Derek.  Did you even have any rebound sex after you broke up with him?"  He looks at me accusingly.

I glance at the card from the guy who left it.  I can't even remember what he looked like, and it's only been a few minutes since he left.  Daniel is texting on my phone, and he sets it down, looking at me triumphantly when he's finished.  "What?" I ask.

"Done.  Tomorrow, six p.m.  Drinks here.  With Bennet."

"What?" I squeak.  "You can't do that."

"Done," he says.  "And you're too polite to cancel.  You need to get out."

"I'm leaving for Japan in a few weeks," I say.  "I don't need to date anyone."

"No," he says, sipping his cocktail.  "You need to get
laid
."

"You're one to talk," I say.  "How long has it been for you?"

"Last night."

"What?  No way."

"Honey, I understand the importance of the one night stand," he says.  "Something you apparently don't."

I open my mouth, the incident with Gaige in the pool on the tip of my tongue.  I want to tell him.  Daniel always knows what to do with these kinds of things.

Shit, I know what Daniel would tell me to do.  He'd tell me to ride Gaige like a cowgirl and then make sure to spill all the details later.

***

Bennet, my date, is talking to me over cocktails.  He's cute.  Okay, he's totally hot.  With wavy blonde hair and blue eyes, he looks like he stepped off the pages of a surfer magazine.  Except instead of "dude" coming out of his mouth, it's "y'all."  The thick Texas twang doesn't make him any less attractive, either.  Except when he calls me "darlin'," and it makes me think of Gaige.

And Bennet is nothing like Gaige.  He seems nice.  He hangs on my every word, and laughs, and brushes his hand casually on my arm.

When he touches me, I wait for something to strike – fireworks, electricity, some kind of spark – the way it does when Gaige brushes his fingers along my skin, but it doesn't.  But I tell myself that my ex-boyfriend Derek was the same way – a slow burn, no immediate spark -- but it turned into something over time. 
Sort of.
  We never really had a lot of passion, even after a year together.  And it didn't exactly end well.  Derek wound up cheating on me with my ex-roommate, so that relationship isn't the best example, I guess.

But Bennet is sweet.  He seems kind.  Like a Labrador.

And my mind is drifting the entire time he's talking. 
What's he saying, again?
  He's asking me a question, and it takes me a minute to figure it out.  He's asking about my work. 
Shit, I'm supposed to be talking
.  "I'm sorry, I missed that," I say.

"I was asking about your trip," he says.  "You mentioned Japan."

"Oh, yeah, next week," I say.  "I'll be there for a few weeks.  I'm basically being sent to manage my stepbrother, Gaige.  He's a motorcycle racer – you know those sport bikes?  That's what he does."

"Sounds dangerous," Bennet says.

"Japan?"  I ask.  "No, it's the opposite, actually.  It's really quite safe."

Bennet laughs.  "I meant the bike racing."

"Oh, yeah."  I roll my eyes.  "Especially when you like to pull dumb stunts the way Gaige does."  My phone buzzes, and I take it out of my purse.  "Excuse me for a second."

Where are you?

I recognize Gaige's number immediately but ignore it, setting the phone down on the table.  He's been avoiding me, yet picks
now
as the appropriate time to text? 
Yeah, right.

"Sorry about that," I say.  "So, being an accountant sounds interesting."  I'm lying.  I take another sip of my margarita.

Bennet is saying something about his job, and when my phone buzzes again, I'm honestly grateful for the distraction.  I should be hanging on every word that comes out of Bennet's adorable mouth, except I'm not.

What are you doing right now?

Bennet is still talking, and I nod along, making encouraging sounds while I text back.

None of your business.  You?

I set the phone down.  Two seconds later, it buzzes.

Are you alone?

I text back.

Yes.

It buzzes again. 
Damn it.

Liar.

I'm annoyed with Gaige for interrupting my date, and I know I should turn off the phone, but I don't.  Instead, I excuse myself to use the restroom, leaving Bennet watching a sports game on the row of televisions behind me, and text on my way.

You've left me alone forever now.  Why are you texting me?  Are you bored?

I've only made it through the bathroom door when it buzzes again.

Maybe I've just finally recovered from the worst case of blue balls known to man.

I feel a perverse mix of guilt and satisfaction when I read his text message.  How can I even respond to that? 
Sorry about your balls?  Hope they haven't fallen off?
  I wonder if they make a greeting card for that occasion.

I'm sure you found someone to assist you.

I'm washing my hands and fixing my hair in the mirror when he texts again.

So are you in your room?  Or are you having a happy hour date?

I stare at his text.  Why does Gaige seem to have this sixth sense about me?  It's so annoying.  Well, I'm not going to outright lie.  I turn the phone off and stick it in my purse without responding.

I'm weaving and winding my way back through the crowd in the bar to my table.  "Sorry, I –" I stop short when I realize Bennet is no longer sitting at my table.

Gaige is in his seat, looking at me with raised eyebrows.  "You didn't respond to my text," he says, looking up.  I turn to see the waitress behind me, with a beer in hand that Gaige accepts.

"Where's Bennet?" I demand.

Gaige takes a sip of his beer.  "Bennet decided to cut the date short," he says.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood," he says, with a look of smug satisfaction.

"You were in the –" I start to say, looking around for Bennet, but not seeing him anywhere.  "Did you really just run off my – "

"Your what, Delaney?" he asks.  "Your date?"

"Fine," I say.  "I'm on a date.  I
was
on a date.  With a nice guy.  Before you showed up and ruined it."

"Oh yeah," he says.  "It looked like it was going really well.  You gazing off into the distance, leaving the guy to fend for himself.  Trust me, he was glad to be let off the hook."

"What did you do?"

Gaige shrugs.  "I told him you were already taken."

"You told him I was taken."  My brain refuses to process this information, so instead I just stand there staring at Gaige like he's speaking in a foreign language.

Gaige sips his beer.  "Taken."

"Taken by who, exactly?"  I ask.  Then I pause.  "No, never mind.  I don't even want to know the answer to that question.  Did you fucking follow me here?" I ask, my voice rising in pitch.  Someone looks over at me, and I lower it, aware I'm about to cause a scene.  Or I am causing a scene.  We look like a couple having an argument.  "Have you been listening to my date?  Did you bug me or something?"

Gaige laughs.  "Seriously, you think I bugged you?  Listen to yourself, Delaney."

"That's it," I say.  "I don't even care what you did.  I'm totally out of here."  I dig in my purse for cash, and slap enough down on the table to cover my bill, refusing to even make any eye contact with Gaige before I storm out the door.  He doesn't follow me out of the bar.

Back at home, I'm still furious with him, but I have no one to vent to.  I start to call Daniel, but what the hell kind of explanation can I give him for my stepbrother's ridiculousness? Daniel texts to ask me how the date with Bennet went, but I ignore him.  Instead, I turn on music and take a bath, trying to tune out everything else.  I can't believe Gaige, going in there and acting like some kind of caveman, telling Bennet to leave.

Why are you pissed?  He did what you yourself wanted to do to Bennet – he told him to get lost.
  I know the nagging little voice in my head is absolutely true.  But even so, he had no right to do it.

I'm not even relaxed after a hot bath.  I'm still irritated.  And Gaige isn't next door, or if he is, he's been super stealthy about sneaking into his room.  I slip into a pair of comfy pants and a tank top and grab my novel to head up to the roof, to the sunroom.

My father's estate is a sprawling, Texas-sized mansion on twenty acres.  I told my father it was ridiculous when he bought it.  The house itself is a monstrosity with too many rooms to count – I think thirty or something – and he bought it the year before he and Anja got married.  My mother had custody of me since she split with my father, and we lived in New York after that, with me spending summers with my father, in the less ostentatious house he had before this one.

All that changed my sophomore year of high school when he bought this place.  I hate everything about the house.

Except for the sunroom.  Anja calls it the solarium, because sunroom is apparently not the correct fancy word for it.  It's enclosed in glass on the rooftop, like a greenhouse, filled with tropical leafy plants and lots of chairs for sitting.  Anja says it makes her allergies crazy.  But I love it.

I pop into the kitchen on the way, startling the cook, Deborah, who insists on making me a cup of tea, even though I insist I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself.  She also insists on preparing dinner for me, finally acquiescing to leave something in the refrigerator, since there's no one else in the house. My father and Anja are gone tonight, some business thing with foreign investors my father is entertaining, Saudi contacts, I think.  Deborah tries to protest when I send her and the housekeeper home, but if at this point in my life I can't fend for myself, that'd be pretty messed up.

I set my tea down on this little table beside one of the lounges and stretch out on my stomach, my novel in front of me.  No cell phone and no one around.  Now hopefully, Gaige will stay gone.

My luck in the Gaige department lasts for all of thirty minutes before he's standing right in the doorway in front of me.  "Getting rid of my date wasn't enough screwing around with my life earlier?" I ask.  "You came back for more?"

"I came back for more."  The way he looks at me, like he's hungry, makes that statement drip with innuendo.  Damn it, why does Gaige have to look so irresistible? 

I sit up and cross my arms over my chest.  "So you're no longer just fucking around with me?  You're screwing around with my dating life too?"

"Oh, please," he says.  "You should be thanking me."