On the Rocks (A Turtle Island Novel) (24 page)

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

C
arter closed his laptop and headed to the bathroom to rinse out his coffee cup. He’d gotten smarter over the last few days, and had added a coffeemaker and mug to their small stash of necessities. Tomorrow would make it a week since he and Ginger had first gotten together, and other than Saturday when her friends had been in town, he and Ginger had spent every night at her house.

They left before the guys got there each morning—Ginger explaining the bed and other paraphernalia as her inability to wait. She was willing to rough it to be in her home early.

It was also the story she’d told her mother.

Of course, Julie knew he hadn’t been home most nights, and she no doubt knew why. But she hadn’t brought the subject up other than the occasional smug look flung his way when he came in before she left for work. They had a silent truce going on. He didn’t hunt up her son-of-a-bitch teacher and kick his ass all the way to hell for getting his sister pregnant and deserting her, and she didn’t get in his face about sleeping with his neighbor and friend. It was a system that worked for them.

Additionally,
their
relationship had gotten better over the last week. He would miss her when he went home. And he would definitely visit. Not only to see his niece, but his sister.

He returned to the bedroom and padded to the open deck doors where Ginger remained asleep. They’d dragged the bed outside last night, before he’d proceeded to keep her awake until well into the early hours of the morning.

He should probably leave her alone now. Let her sleep. She didn’t have to be at work early, and they still had a good hour and a half before anyone would arrive. They could miss a sunrise together.

But standing there watching her, he knew he wouldn’t let her sleep. He wanted his hands back on her, and he couldn’t fathom the idea of waiting even one minute longer to do so.

He also couldn’t fathom what he would do come next week. Their time was ticking down, but he wasn’t ready to call it quits. Yet, he also wasn’t willing to stick around any longer. He had a book to finish. And he simply didn’t live here.

In two days his parents would return home, their party would be the following day, and he planned to head home on Tuesday—Julie had suggested he go to the OB with her on Monday.

Only, he’d changed since being here, and Ginger had been instrumental in that. The changes had come in forms he hadn’t anticipated. He woke every morning now, looking forward to the day. He watched sunrises instead of sitting in the dark. And he didn’t hate the world around him.

He was happy. Or, well on his way to it. And he enjoyed every minute spent with Ginger.

He didn’t want to give any of that up. Certainly not to return to the depression that had been grasping at him for months. He didn’t think he could live like that again. But had he healed enough to maintain his new outlook on his own? And was he really ready to leave Ginger behind?

All were questions he struggled to answer, but what he
could
do at the moment was wake the beautiful woman sleeping naked under the covers in front of him, and make love to her once more before the sun came up.

Losing the jeans he’d tugged on when he’d gotten up to work, he crawled into the bed and aligned himself behind her. She was curled on her side, her body warm and soft, and his hand automatically found his favorite spots. The curve at the top of her hip. The dip of her waist.

He pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades, and felt his body stir in response when she purred and stretched against him. He could do this every day of his life.

Trailing a finger along her spine, he followed it with his lips, pushing the covers away as he went, until he reached the upper curve of her hip. He stopped there, lifting his mouth to trace the small bundle of colorful balloons with his finger. She never had told him why she’d chosen balloons as a tattoo.

She peeked at him, and a tiny smile touched her lips. She was breathtaking in the early morning light. Naked and bare. With hooded, mist-green eyes holding both sleep and desire.

He could be crazy about her if he allowed himself.

“Balloons say to me that anything is possible,” she said groggily, without him having to ask. “That there’s always hope.”

He nodded. He got that. They represented the dream.

“You’re the brightest light I’ve ever met.” He spoke with complete sincerity. Then he pressed a kiss to the balloons—wishing he could have some of her light inside himself—and slid back up her body.

He kissed her then, and got lost in the languid stroke of her tongue.

Her hand caressed his face as their mouths fused, and when they pulled apart, he moved to the crest of her shoulder. The skin there was tanned a faint golden color, interspersed with small freckles. He applied soft touches with his lips.

“I love your freckles,” he murmured. “I plan to take the time to kiss every one of them.”

She lifted a lazy smile his way. “You’ll be one busy person.”

“I won’t mind.”

The freckles were sprinkled across the bridge of her nose and down her legs. There was even one very cute one right above her left breast. His hand snaked around her waist, and he touched a finger to it. He didn’t have to look to know where it was. Then he held her tight and nudged his lower body against hers. He kissed her neck.

She spread her legs just enough to allow him to slide a thigh between hers. And she moaned when he fit the length of his erection tight to her rear.

“I love this,” she whispered. Her hand skimmed over his hip.

The morning remained gray and cool, but a six-foot radius of heat inflated around them.

He pressed against her more aggressively. He was ready for more. She nodded as if she understood his need and shifted, arching her back until she ground herself into him. It was heaven. It was torture.

One more shift of her body—and the mattress dipped.

She rolled at an awkward angle, ending up tangled in his legs and staring up at him in shock. A laugh burst out of her. “Stupid mattress. We’ve ruined it. It keeps leaking air.”

He kissed her, his touch hard. He didn’t care about the mattress. She responded by capturing his head in her hands and holding him tight. Her lips were dewy like the morning, and he drank long and hard from her. He could not get enough.

“I saw the bed you purchased the other day.” He nuzzled underneath her chin when he broke for air. His chest pressed into hers with each breath, rubbing across her nipples. “You won’t need this mattress for long.” His mouth inched toward her chest. “And I’ll be back in November. After Julie has her baby. I could help you break it in.”

He hadn’t known he was about to make the suggestion, but it was a great idea. It would ensure this week wouldn’t be it for them. He could go back to Rhode Island, yet they could still have more.

Only, she stopped squirming at his touch. She looked up at him, her eyes unblinking.

Wariness brought his moves to a halt. Then she slowly shook her head.
No.

His chest squeezed.

“I don’t want ‘casual’ for the long term. You know that. It’s not me. It’s not who I want to be.”

An emotion quite similar to fear beat at his neck. “Okay.”

He couldn’t force himself to say anything more. He couldn’t force himself to breathe.

“Don’t get me wrong.” She pushed against the mattress until she sat, leaving him perched on his side. “I’m glad we’re doing this. I think we both needed it. And it’s been loads of fun. But I’ve also listened to everything you’ve said this past week. About how I try too hard with men.” She touched her fingers to his lips. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and you’re right. I do. So I’m going to change. I’m going to be nothing more than
me
. Because I still want forever, Carter. I can’t give up on that.”

He nodded. Of course she did. Which also meant that this week really was it for them.

And that thought brought him a unique kind of pain. One he didn’t know how to classify. He didn’t want to walk away from her at the end of the weekend. Even though that’s exactly what he’d proposed. He also didn’t want her to be with anyone else. But he had zero suggestions on how it could be any different.

“I’m a little envious of you,” he finally admitted.

Her brow wrinkled. “Why?”

“Because you still believe in happily ever after.” And because he wished he
did.

Sorrow filled her gaze before the light in her eyes shifted. Her pupils grew larger. “You could, too,” she urged softly. “Stay a while longer. You’re good here. You’re healing. We’re . . . good, too. Aren’t we? There’s no need to rush off.” She paused briefly before continuing. “We could—”

He shook his head. He couldn’t stay. What would be the point?

He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, one at a time. Each touch sliced him open inside. She didn’t get it. He was too shattered for happily ever after. And too realistic to stay.

“You’re letting her win,” she told him.

“I’m protecting myself. There’s a difference.”

He wasn’t letting anyone win. Even when he knew that included him. This was the way it had to be. He wouldn’t risk the kind of hurt Lisa had inflicted upon him. Never again.

“Climb on top of me,” he coaxed. He rolled to his back. “I want to make love to you as the sun comes up. And I want to watch you in the sunlight.”

She slid a leg across his thighs, and rolled a condom down over his length. With each stroke, she aroused him further. Then she lifted to her knees and positioned herself above him.

“Let me get you ready,” he murmured. He reached for her, but she shook her head.

“I’m always ready with you.” She slid down over him, and he sucked in a breath. Chills raced over his chest. She was hot and wet. And tight. A lump formed in his throat at the picture she made sitting astride him. If he were an artist, he’d paint this. Then he’d hang it in his office to gaze upon every day.

She began to move, his hands at her hips. He held her, but he could do barely more than watch. They had a few days left, but for some reason, this felt like it was it. The very last time he’d get to feel her this way.

Or maybe it was simply the most important time.

The sun began to appear, its rays rising up out of the ocean, and a small path of light sliced through the railing, slashing across her chest. She continued to move. Slowly. But her breasts were now highlighted by the sun. That freckle he loved so much seemed to glow only for him.

Her body did its magic, bringing him close to orgasm with barely more than a few strokes, and he found himself gripping her, forcing himself not to thrust. She was a masterpiece on top of him. One he didn’t want to end.

But it did. It had to, as all good things did.

As the full orb of the sun glowed from the bright morning sky, Ginger threw back her head and bit down on her lower lip. Her fingers gripped at his waist, and her breasts bounced with each gyration of her body.

And he almost fell in love with his friend.

He closed his eyes and let himself join her. Their release was quiet this morning. But no less intense than any other time they’d been together.

He pumped into her until he was drained. Dry. Then he forced his eyes open. She looked as empty as he, yet she remained on top of him. Sitting tall. Watching. He put a hand to her, running his fingers over her stomach and up to cup the weight of one breast. Then he pictured her round with a baby. She would be beautiful. She would make a great mother.

And though his own mind screamed obscenities at him for thinking it, he silently issued a wish that she’d find that someday. She deserved it.

She leaned forward and kissed him gently, her breasts swaying against his chest. Then she slid off his body and returned to her side. She faced the sun, curling into him the way they’d lain when he’d first joined her, and he wrapped an arm around her and held her close.

“You’re good for healing a wounded soul, Red.”

She gave no response.

An hour later, they were showered and dressed, and heading out of the house. Ginger turned to lock the door behind them as Carter watched the first truckload of workers roll in. The vehicle stopped, and Gregg climbed from the passenger seat.