Love Me Knots (8 page)

“Let me give to you, Krista.” Give the only thing he knew how to give her right. He leaned over her, his kiss so desperate that even he knew he was this close to begging. “Hear what I’m trying to tell you.”

“I can’t,” she whispered against his mouth, and he couldn’t tell if the pain in his heart was hers or his own. But she held on to him, kissing him back. Her legs squeezed around him and her arms wound over his neck. He started to pull back, not sure at all what she meant, but she clamped tighter, lifting her hips to his. She groaned into his mouth, releasing her hold only when he burrowed his arms beneath her shoulders. How could she be so close, yet give him the insidious impression that she was slipping irrevocably away?

“It’s not enough,” she growled, her hands snaking between them, scrabbling at his belt. She had him free in what felt like seconds, her hand gripping his shaft tight, directing him into her heated slickness. She ran him through her wetness, the head gliding just past her opening and angling up over her clit, where she stroked them both against each other well enough to make him grit his teeth. Just when he couldn’t take any more, she dipped him downward. He surged into her, pushing deep and fast. She cried out, her walls tightening around him while her knees rose on either side of him.

Her fingers, he understood somewhere in the back of his fevered mind, hadn’t released him. She kept two of them and her thumb wrapped around the base of him, stroking with each movement of their bodies. He quaked, too much sensation robbing him of any chance of regaining concentration. Her other hand grazed his belly with each thrust, her rolling knuckles a tease he’d never felt before. Like a shock to his brain, he realized she was touching herself, stroking them both past oblivion.

Thought of any kind incinerated.

Recklessly, he plunged into her, conscious only of her wild cries and the tight, convulsing grip of her body. She arched beneath him, the angle of her hips changing from merely drugging to utterly mind-bending. Lost, he felt the end coming at him like a freight train. Too soon, too strong, the climax surged over him, robbing him of his breath and his strength like electricity streaking down his back.

Overwhelmed, he dropped his head to her chest, listening to her heartbeat settle from its rampaging pace to a steady one that gave his something to align itself to. He allowed himself to melt over her, lax and sated.

But not quite satisfied.

Something had been different.
She
had been different.

He lifted his head, catching his breath, but she wasn’t looking at him. When she brought her hand to his shoulder, she didn’t seem to have any difficulty in pushing him away. Confused, unable to do anything else, David rolled to her side, all at once feeling ridiculous and over-exposed by his own mostly dressed state. His pants were open, but every other article of his clothes was still perfectly in place. As if nothing had happened to him. And as he studied her face, her profile blank and cool, he almost wondered if anything had.

How could she be so distant? She still didn’t look at him as she slid free. Briskly, she rushed back to the shower. He listened, disbelieving, as the water turned on again. Taking the bizarre respite for what it was, he righted his pants and sat up. He ran his hand through his hair and tried to find his equilibrium. This wasn’t what he’d meant to do. It hadn’t been wrong either. So why did it feel that way?

Analytically, he tried to view the last twenty minutes with some kind of equanimity. He’d tried to touch her, to show her how he felt. Tried to reassure her. She’d balked, but she hadn’t given any indication that she didn’t want him. Even as she’d rejected his feelings, she’d clung to him, as if she were afraid to let him go. Then…then she’d taken control.

That was it. That was when the whole experience had lost what he’d been trying to give her. It hadn’t been about love. It had been sex. Raw, uncontrolled lust.

David watched her walk out of the shower, wrapped in a proper towel this time, her gaze most assuredly not on him. He could still see the blush on her cheeks as she gave him and the bed a wide berth. Blinking, he let her pass, waiting for a word, a sign, some kind of indication of what the hell had just happened.

He heard her moving around, gathering things from the closet. The rustling of her getting dressed. When she finally walked into his sights, crossing to the vanity with its massive mirror, she wasn’t wearing the nightgown he expected. Not even the fluffy white bathrobe still trampled on the floor. Instead, she wore a red-and-white-flowered sheet of some kind, wrapped around her body and knotted between her breasts, leaving her creamy shoulders bare. He straightened away from the bed, his mind racing at what was or wasn’t underneath. To his shock, she grabbed her handbag again and headed toward the door. Without a look, she moved past him.

“Where are you going?” he asked when it looked like she’d walk straight out without another word.

“Back to the party at Cobb’s.” She turned, the fabric of her outfit parting around a slim, pale thigh. Thighs that he could almost still feel clenched around his ribs. Clearly that didn’t matter anymore. “And don’t even think of following me there. You’re not invited.”

Cobb. The man she’d been with on the pier. He stifled the anger that tried to bubble through his thoughts. “I thought we would talk.”

“What made you think that? Was it when you rudely interrupted my conversation—”

“With another man,” he interjected, not sure if his temper or his ego was stinging more. She couldn’t be serious about acting like what had just happened meant nothing. Or was she pretending it hadn’t happened at all?

She went blithely on. “Or was it when you imposed yourself on my hotel room?”

It wasn’t easy to argue when she wasn’t wrong. But she wasn’t right regarding everything. “We need to talk, Krista.”

“About what? I don’t see how anything has changed.”

“What about us? What we just did?”

She shrugged, her eyes darting to the side. “Sex, pure and simple.”

“That wasn’t just sex. You felt it. You know what it was.”

Those green eyes that had always watched him with heat were cold mirrors now. “You’re right, I do. It was you hoping you could seduce me into changing my mind about us. But sex was never our problem, David. It doesn’t answer anything. It just makes us believe things we know aren’t true. We’d be stupid if we confused chemistry with emotion. I’ve been stupid long enough, thanks.”

So he
was
right. She’d felt what he was trying to tell her and it scared her. There weren’t a lot of feelings he knew at first glance but he knew fear. He’d lived with it all his life. He hated that she felt it now—that she felt it because of him. “Running away won’t help anything. Believe me, I know.”

“Who’s running?” She pulled the short strap of her handbag up over her shoulder. “I’m
walking
away, guilt free. The way I should have months ago. You wanted to be here. Fine. Enjoy the room, but don’t kid yourself that I plan to be in it. We’ve already made enough mistakes for one day, don’t you think?”

Icy anger flooded his senses. “Krista.”

She grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with four muscle-bound men in the next bungalow.” Then she did something truly amazing. She winked. “Don’t wait up, lover.”

And she was gone.

A strange haze gave way to the clear blue water of the ocean. Krista blinked at the misty sunlight, not entirely sure how she got there. Wasn’t she just…?

Warm hands smoothed down her back, the touch as familiar and exciting as ever.
David
. Just like that, the worries faded away. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t sure where she was. Or where anyone else was. The beach was deserted and it was just the two of them in a private lagoon. So private he was untying the back strings of her bikini.

“What are you doing?” Was her voice echoing?

“Touching you.” She could feel his warmth against her skin, hear the water droplets echoing as they fell from his wet hands. The top fell away and his hands replaced it, drawing a groan from her as her head fell back onto his shoulder. Her nipples, hard and straining, were rolled between his fingers, making her ache from the tips of them all the way down to her warming core.

“You’re not supposed to be touching me,” she remembered. She didn’t like it when he touched her, but she couldn’t quite remember why. It felt good. His touch always felt good. He always knew exactly where to touch, how to make her melt for him. To make her scream, if he wanted to. Though, strangely, even now his touch wasn’t exactly right. It wasn’t as…intense. Usually, his hunger, his need, was like a flame around them both. This time, he was gentle. Unhurried. Un-intense.

Maybe that’s what she didn’t like.

“Maybe you feel guilty,” he murmured, kissing the side of her neck, licking here and there with teasing strokes.

“Why would I feel guilty?” She had nothing to feel guilty about. She was setting him free. Setting them both free, from a marriage plan that had lost its logic. If it ever had any to begin with.

His hand roved over the bikini bottoms and they disappeared. Just
pfft
! Gone, and his long fingers were sliding through her folds, hidden just beneath the water line. She watched the back of his hand against her pale belly, the slow ministrations as erotic as the feel of his fingertips gliding around her clit, delving into her entrance. His hand rolled, creating tiny waves as she shivered, her want overwhelming the questions in her mind. Then he was inside, one finger…two, moving in and out while rubbing the heel of his hand into her, heightening her need until she burned. And then he just kept giving her more. His strokes soon had her arching, moaning. Becoming desperate for a fulfillment that he wouldn’t give. “Please, David.”

“I’m
trying
to please you.”

Her clit throbbed in response to his voice.

“I’m trying to
give
to you.”

Her heart ached, almost more than her body as it strained tighter.

“Why won’t you let me?”

And just like that, it ended.

Krista woke up, blinking uncomfortably, her body wavering on the precipice of satisfaction for a single, heart-stopping second before falling backward into the definite not-satisfied arena. So it took her a few frustrated seconds to realize she was in a strange room. It wasn’t her rented bedroom, not even her bungalow. She sat up with a dawning sense of horror. She felt her chest, relieved that the pareo she’d tied was still in place. A shift of her hips told her that her panties remained as well. She blinked muzzily, rubbing at her numb cheek and trying to shake off the webs of the too-vivid—and too-pointed—dream she’d just had. So where was she?

“Oh good, you’re awake. It’s already after eleven, we thought we were going to have to come poke you with a stick.”

Krista looked up to the doorway where Ricky—no, Stevie was the one with the pierced left ear—stood with a breakfast tray. Behind him, Ricky smiled and waved. Neither seemed to realize how close her dream had come to doing just that.

“Don’t look so nervous.” Stevie chuckled, his thick blond hair falling over his forehead in perfect boyishness. “Trust me, if there was ever a safe place for a woman, it’s Cobb’s bed.”

She laughed weakly, glad for the covering miscommunication. The mortification of these two knowing she’d been having a sex dream would only be eclipsed by hearing them tell everyone they spoke to about it. One night in their presence and she already knew that no one had secrets with them around.

No one felt sexually confident, either, she’d bet. If Brad Pitt had ever been cloned, that would be the perfect explanation for them. She wondered if maybe plastic surgery was a better one. It didn’t matter. They were almost ethereally beautiful men from head to toe, graceful to match. Women who wanted them were ignored and men who stood next to them just didn’t get noticed.

They both wore only pairs of red board shorts, their gold skin and impressive muscles on open display. Part of her appreciated the sight, but most of her wanted the orange juice Ricky was holding out toward her. She didn’t like the thought in her head that the models’ perfection still managed to pale against David’s rich masculinity.

God, you have it so bad.

Stevie stuttered to a stop, tray balanced outward like a cartoon character caught mid-frame, baby blue eyes wide. “Morning sickness?”

Krista blinked. “What?”

“You made a face. And we’ve got sisters.”

A laugh unwillingly made it to her lips. “Nope, this baby is a morning person. It’s lunch he hates.”

He relaxed with a sigh and they finally brought the juice within reach. Trying not to be too greedy, Krista allowed herself a full second before grabbing for the glass. She was halfway through the sweet, pulpy goodness when Stevie offered a piece of warm golden pancake.

“So, what are you going to say to the boyfriend when you go back?”

She took the proffered fork and popped the food between her lips to buy herself some time. The men had been all kinds of accommodating when she’d showed up on their doorstep the night before, bravado gone, and asked if she could stay at the party longer. Before she knew it, she was spilling her guts to the most attentive listeners she’d ever met in her life.

Of course, then they’d gone on about their own bad breakups and shared some secrets about Cobb and Jake as well. Turned out, part of the reason for the vacation was that Jake had been dumped by the latest love of his life after he’d cleaned out Jake’s bank account and crashed his classic Malibu. The other three figured it was time to change the dating pool.

“At this point, we’d even settle for a woman,” Ricky had announced with a sigh. “No offense, but anything is better than letting him choose for himself.”

At least they’d gotten a kick out of Cobb going spastic over her ex.

“No idea,” she answered now. The only thing coming to mind to say to David was “Get out.”

Stevie grinned. “You know you don’t want him to go.”

“Oh yeah? And where’d you hear that from, John Edwards? Did you have to pick a letter first?”

The man actually managed to frown prettily. “John Edwards?”

“Psychic guy, talks to dead peop—” Krista stopped. Stevie wasn’t the kind to sit in his bunny slippers late at night waiting up for a boyfriend who couldn’t seem to get off work on time. “Never mind. Not important.”

“If you say so,” Ricky replied, still mystified. “But
I
still say you want to get back with him.”

Of course she wanted to get back with him. That didn’t mean she was going to do it. “What I want isn’t usually very good for me.”

“Tell me about it,” Stevie agreed emphatically. “But no one said that what’s good for you doesn’t hurt you. I mean, haven’t you ever had a colonic?”

“Stevie, man.” Ricky gave his brother a grossed-out look. “
Breakfast
.” He rolled his eyes before hooking his thumb over his shoulder. “Well, whatever you’re going to say, you’d better figure it out soon. He’s still over there in your bungalow. Waiting.”

Krista frowned. “How do you know that?”

“’Cause Cobb is out on the deck, watching for him,” Stevie answered. If they stood close enough, she could just about fool herself into thinking she was talking to a single person. They practically operated with the same brain. “Been there for hours. I think he’s got a real crush this time.”

“Yeah, David has that effect,” Krista grumbled around a bitter bite of pancake. At least it wasn’t just her who was turned utterly senseless by the man.

“Well, I’d at least talk to him. He could surprise you.”

Maybe. He’d surprised her by showing up there at all. But the fear of getting sucked back into a relationship that didn’t work was too strong. Ricky started out of the room, Stevie turning to follow him.

“Wait, what about you? Don’t you want any?” Krista indicated the remaining pancakes and fruit compote with her hand.

Stevie shuddered. “Oh, honey, no.” He rubbed his washboard abs. “You don’t get to looking like this if you eat things like
that
.”

Krista looked down at the plate, wondering if she should be regretting the two bites so far. Then again, she didn’t pose for building-sized billboards in her skivvies. That little dose of truth reminded her that the Sunshine Twins had a slightly distorted sense of reality and couldn’t be taken seriously in the slightest.

She waited until they were gone to run to the bathroom. Figuring Cobb wouldn’t begrudge her a capful of mouthwash, she did a quick ablution and walked carefully back into the social areas of the bungalow. Everyone from the party had gone. The twins had gone running and Jake appeared to be doing kitchen duty. Unhappily. Or maybe the brooding man just looked that way. It was anyone’s guess.

“Thanks for breakfast,” she said as she put the tray on the counter.

Jake, unlike the others, had some sense of modesty. He almost wore a blue shirt, but the middle hung open to reveal deeply browned muscle. It went well with the darker blue knee-length board shorts and the gleam on his black, black hair. His eyes were startlingly bright, the ocean color of the irises vivid against his tan, and his skin showed some weathering at the corners. The scar through the eyebrow probably helped rake in the prospective rotten relationships.

She sighed, shaking her head at him. If he were straight, he’d give David a real run for his money.

“Ricky and Stevie work all the lover’s lament out of you?”

She blinked at the blunt question as he tossed a dish towel over his shoulder so his hands would be free to take the tray. He tugged it, brow raised in question when she didn’t quite let go. She had to tell her fingers to release.

“What do you mean, lover’s lament?”

“I don’t mean nothin’ by it. Just, who hasn’t heard it before?
He doesn’t pay enough attention to me. He doesn’t care about me anymore.
And when your little bait-and-switch fails, it’s stomp, stomp, stomp, slam, slam, slam, it’s over, goodbye.” He put the dishes into the sink before looking over his shoulder at her. “Unless I have that wrong? Isn’t that what you were telling the guys last night?”

Krista frowned at him, hating that he was even partially right. “You’re a bitter soul.”

Jake laughed, a rich deep tone that probably made the women he knew have fantasies of turning him. But she heard the sardonic chill and was kind of grateful he played for the other team. “Oh,
I’m
bitter. Poor little rich girl doesn’t get enough attention and I’m the one with issues?”

“Oh please.” She rolled her eyes, ready to go out on the deck with Cobb to moon over David’s door. Except… “You know what? Yes, you’re the one with issues. All I said was ‘Thank you for breakfast’ and you jumped down my throat for breathing. You’d think you might be the tiniest bit grateful that I was here to absorb all the well-meaning fix-it rays going on in this place. If I weren’t, you’d be strapped to the wrong end of a banana daiquiri bar right about now.”

Jake’s glare held for a few seconds before his mouth twitched, amusement coloring his features as his hackles slowly lowered. “I didn’t know there
was
a wrong end of a banana daiquiri bar.”

Krista bit her lips together. She wasn’t even sure there was such a thing as a banana daiquiri bar, but it had sounded good in her head. She shrugged one shoulder, determined to carry it out.

“You’re right,” he finally sighed. “Between Ricky and Stevie trying to drag everyone on earth into a happily ever after and keeping an eye on Cobb’s spending, I’m probably more irritated than ever and I had no right to shit all over your mope.”

And he’d been doing so well apologizing. But even a gay man was just a man. “I’m not moping.”

Jake scratched the back of his head. “Wrong word, huh?”

“Ya’ think?” But she relented enough to sit on the stool in front of the counter. “So why are you watching how much Cobb spends?”

“Someone has to. Did you see how many people were here last night? Everyone drinking, eating, using things. He didn’t know half of them but all of them sure acted like he was handing out lotteries.”

Which answered the question of what Cobb did for a living. Like her, he must be a trust fund baby. “Still doesn’t answer the question. If his spending were a problem, wouldn’t his parents or his trustees step in?”

Jake took too long to formulate an answer.

Krista stiffened. “You’re not a stuntman, are you?”

“No, I am. But before that, I’m his friend.” His gaze switched out to the view of the window, where Cobb was sitting, tinkering with a guitar. She didn’t need to know him well to understand that look—longing. She wore it just about every day. “We met when he decided he was an actor for a few months. Everyone loved him, he just didn’t know it would be so much work.”