Tracing Hearts (19 page)

My smile is triumphant. I clap my hands like a giddy seal and bounce up and down in my seat. Sebastian watches me with a wry smile and shakes his head in disbelief. Is he laughing at me?

After parking the car, he pops the trunk. When reaching the open compartment, I spy two blue duffle bags. Sebastian grabs them both and we head inside our room.

“Looks like Mick thinks of everything,” he says as he pulls out a colorful pair of men’s swim shorts. I nod, then unzip the second bag and find a bunch of clothing, along with a bright pink, string bikini. I hold both pieces up to inspect them. Ugh. I don’t know about this. My eyes scan the small patches of fabric as I wonder how on earth I can wear this in front of Sebastian. I glance over at him just in time to see him quickly look away. Was he watching me?

“Um…I’ll go change,” he says, rather awkwardly. Then, he stands and walks into the bathroom. I hear the door close, and I sag into the chair. Well, I’m glad Mick at least thought to pack me a razor.

Moments later, Sebastian reenters the room. His long, lean, muscular figure causes my breath to hitch slightly as he saunters casually toward the bed. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him without a shirt, but I still find myself speechless. I watch as his pectoral muscles twitch slightly at the movements of his tanned arms. And his arms, oh my, his arms. The hills and valleys of his hardened biceps cause my heart to want to leap from my chest. I don’t know why, but a wave of heat washes over me from head to toe. He looks at me. Shit. Caught staring. I look away and pretend I wasn’t imagining what the rest of his body looks like.

“Um…I guess it’s my turn,” I say, embarrassed and, most likely, blushing. I stand and make my way to the bathroom. As I dress, I note that the only mirror in the room, is fastened to the
outside
of this bathroom door, which means I can’t tell how, or if, this bathing suit even fits me properly. I tug at the thin strings and adjust the patches here and there. I place my face in my hands, while I groan. I have to come out eventually. I guess it’s now or never. I turn the handle and open the door. Before I step into view, I cross my arms in front of my chest in an attempt to conceal myself from the world.

Sebastian’s back is to me. His muscles flex and ripple as he does something on his phone. I’m pleased to get an uninterrupted view of his extraordinary body. As I lay the clothes I was wearing over the chair, he turns. His eyebrows lift as his eyes meet mine, then scroll down across the rest of me. He’s trying to be discreet, but he’s failing miserably. My cheeks heat, and I inwardly smile, mentally punching the air.

“Wow,” he says, his mouth almost popping open. “You look…wow.”

I blush furiously at his amazement.

“This old thing?” I say in jest, then giggle. He just stands there and blinks a few times, absorbing what he’s seeing. It makes me blush again.

“S—so you ready to go?” he stutters, then looks away quickly.

“Yes,” I reply. “Should we take towels down?”

“No. I think the desk clerk said there are towels down by the pool. Remember, this isn’t one of those fleabag motels,” he says with a satisfied smile. I nod and search through my bag again. “What are you looking for?”

“Sunscreen.
You
obviously tan easily. All I do is burn and peel.” I rummage around inside the bag, until my hand lands on a smooth bottle of suntan lotion. I open it up and begin to apply it to my arms, legs, and face.

“Here,” he says, “let me put it on your back.” I nod shyly, move my hair off to one side, and hand him the bottle. I hear the liquid squirt out of the container and soon feel the chill of it on my shoulder. I gasp and jump slightly. I’m not sure if it’s an automatic response to the temperature of the cream, or from the electric pulse that just shot through my body from his touch. Either way, I’m aroused. I close my eyes and absorb the feeling of my mini-massage. But, all too soon, it’s over. “I need some too,” he says, handing me the bottle and turning away from me.

I swallow reflexively as I repeat his motions from a minute ago. My fingers slide effortlessly as I slowly rub the lotion into his skin. I consciously glide over every contour, feeling the temperature in the room rise as I do. My breathing has become faster and more shallow, while I draw circles with the liquid on his back.

“There,” I say in a rasping voice. “I’m done.” He turns around and his eyes meet mine. I see the steady rise and fall of his chest as his breathing comes and goes in short bursts. Seeing him react like this is just about the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever seen. I swallow again, and we continue to stare at each other.

“We should…probably go,” he says, but I’m not so sure he means it.

“Okay.”

I smile at him, then I break our optical hold. We gather our sunglasses, and he gestures toward the door. He opens it with caution, reminding me that this isn’t some sort of vacation.

***

The water is cool, even though the temperature outside could fry an egg. I sit on the edge at the shallow end of the Olympic sized, swimming pool, dipping my legs in up to my knees. I watch, curiously, as Sebastian approaches the diving board on the opposite side of the pool from me. He seems to concentrate intently. He takes a few steps toward the end, pushes down with both feet, then pulls one knee up with him, before pushing off with full force and doing a jack-knife in the air. His hands-first entry hardly makes a splash. I wait until he resurfaces to clap appreciatively.

“Ten point oh!” I shout from across the water. He smiles at me then shakes his head briskly to expel the extra water from his hair. Still smiling, he swims toward me, reaching me in no time. “Bravo,” I cheer him again. He stands, feet from me, in the shallow water and takes a bow. “Where’d you learn to dive like that?”

“I don't know. I used to take swimming lessons when I was a kid. I guess it’s just something that stuck with me,” he says as if everyone on the planet has this skill.

“You looked fantastic.”

“Thanks. My mom always made it a priority to make sure Chris and I knew how to swim. How about you? Do you swim?”

I wrinkle my nose. “I can tread water like a pro,” I say, then giggle.

“Well that’s just as important a skill.” Then, his look changes into a devious grin. “Come on,” he says and offers me his hand. I shake my head apprehensively. “Come on,” he insists, so, reluctantly, I obey his gently coaxing. Holding my breath, and slowly lowering myself down from the ledge, I slip my body into the pool. The cold water rises up my torso, and I might, or might not, have let out a little squeal, which he may, or may not, have chuckled at. “Let’s go to the deep end.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward him. Placing them both onto his broad shoulders, he propels us both forward, toward the far end of the pool. He’s a strong swimmer, so we reach the other side quickly. “Are you okay? Do you need the side?” Keeping my mouth shut, so I don’t swallow a huge gulp of water, I nod my head. The last thing I need to do is drown in front of him.

He leads me over to the side of the pool and takes the spot beside me. His left arm rests on the deck, while his right hand rakes through his wet hair. I’m clinging to the wall, hoping he doesn’t notice I’m out of breath, and I’m fairly certain there are now
two
reasons for that.

I glance over at his shoulder then tilt my head as my brow furrows. I see a scar. It’s about two inches long and lays horizontally just above his right bicep. I never noticed it before. Without thinking, I reach out and graze it with my thumb. He looks at my uninvited touch, then back at me.

“It’s from my time in the Army,” he says, unsolicited.

“What is?” I look up, feeling a little intrusive.

“That scar,” he elaborates.

“What happened? Did you get it on a secret mission?” I whisper as if someone could be listening. He laughs.

“No. Not at all. I got it from a bar fight.”

Oh. That’s not what I expected.

“A bar fight?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It was about four years ago. Some guy got drunk at a local tavern off post. His buddies were trying to get him to go back to the barracks, but he wasn’t having it. Then, a waitress he’d been harassing most of the night walked by. He got a little too grabby with her, so I stepped up and asked him to stop. He told me to fuck off and took a swing or two at me, but couldn’t land any punches. I advised his friends to take him home, then turned to walk back to my seat. That’s when he pulled a knife out of his pocket and swiped at me.”

I cover my mouth in shock.

“Oh, my God. You’re kidding?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. And I didn’t want to tell my commander what had happened because it most likely would’ve ended up getting us
both
in hot water.”

“But, he was the one at fault,” I say, appalled.

“That he was, but my sergeant at the time didn’t care who started a fight. He’d just assume both parties were guilty and punishments would’ve been given to anyone involved.”

“But, that’s so unfair!” I protest on behalf of the younger version of Sebastian.

He shrugs. “It is what it is.”

My eyes land, once again, on the scar. “How many stitches did you get?”

“None.” I look at him, aghast. He smiles matter of factly. “It’s no big deal. The waitress I was saving from him, patched me up with butterfly bandages and wrapped me up with gauze. She was so grateful for my intervention that she let me—”

I hold up my hand signaling him to stop right there. I do
not
want to hear what she let him do. Ugh. He smirks.

“Um…never mind.” He shakes his head and grins broadly at my disgust. “Now if you want to see a scar from an actual mission, here’s one.” He turns around to face away from me. “Now this one has a good story.” He points to his upper back and over to just below his left shoulder.

I look to see three small, oddly shaped scars about the size of bullet holes.

I gasp.

“Did you get shot?” I’m shocked again and reach out to touch the second set of scars, as if I might soothe them.

He looks over his shoulder at me.

“No. Well not from a bullet anyway,” he says. “I was at Grafenwöhr. It’s a huge training center in Germany. We were on a routine training mission when something went wrong. Two tanks were on the field that day, when a round suddenly went off. One tank shot at the other and blew it up. When it did, five of our guys were killed, shrapnel scattered, and those of us that were standing too close got nailed. I was lucky. I just got hit in the back. The Corporal standing next to me got hit in the neck. It damn near killed him.”

I trace the little scars with my fingers. Do they still hurt? I had no idea Army training could be so dangerous. I suddenly have the urge to kiss them—including the one in the front. He’s so matter of fact when he talks about his battle wounds that I feel a little remorseful that I wasn’t with him to ease his pain. He was tough, and I wish he didn’t have to be.

“I’m sorry,” I say, not exactly sure why. He turns back around to face me and his puzzled look begs me to continue. “That you had to go through all that. I wish I could’ve—”

“Been there?” he interrupts. I nod sadly. “Julia, you couldn’t have known. Hell, you didn’t even know where I was, let alone that I was involved in any kind of danger.” I bow my head. Yes. That’s when he cut off all communication with me. I hear him sigh, so I look up at him through my lashes. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry. I shouldn’t have run away from you. I know that now. If I had it to do all over again…” His face grimaces.

“You’d do the exact same thing,” I say, as I give him a sincere smile.

“No,” he snorts and shakes his head adamantly.

“Yes, you would,” I say. “And it’s okay. Your reasons were well intended, and I understand them now.” I place my hand against his cheek, and he closes his eyes, lightly leaning into my touch, as if to absorb every sensation. This gesture surprises me and I wonder if he feels…something too. As a brave move on my part, I lean closer to him, looking at his sculpted lips along the way. His eyes abruptly open and fix themselves on mine. I stop, unsure of what he’s thinking. We stare into each other’s eyes for an eternity, before I cautiously continue my journey, assuming I have permission to do so. He makes no move to pull away, in fact he leans in too. My eyes close and I feel his lips touch mine.

Sebastian

Her left hand still rests against my cheek as her soft lips press gently on mine. Her right hand glides up to meet my face, and I feel her body sink a bit into the water, so without a second thought, I quickly wrap one arm around her to keep her afloat and anchor her to me. Our bodies press against each other and soon, we are one, our lips tenderly touching. A warmth—no, a fire, spreads through me as we connect in a way we never have before. Desperately, we cling to one another, absorbing each other’s touch. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt. Her hands make their way around to the back of my head, fisting there, as our lips remain locked. Finally, I pull back, and lean my forehead against hers. We’re both panting as if we’d just run a marathon. I take a deep breath. God, that was incredible. I feel like the teenage boy I used to be, when I often fantasized about kissing her. Only, this was way better than anything I could’ve imagined. The uncomfortable tightening of my pants is evidence of that.

With our foreheads still touching, I open my eyes. Julia’s remain closed. What is she thinking? Did she like it? Does she regret it? Self-doubt trickles down from somewhere in my mind. Her eyes open and lock onto mine. Her face reveals nothing, and I slowly pull away.

We gaze at each other for…a minute? An hour? I’m not sure, as time has eluded me. She breaks eye contact first and looks down. I feel the need to fill the silence, but at the same time, I’m afraid to speak. What if this screwed everything up? What if she’s decided this isn't what she wants. What if… Oh, hell, there are a million
what-ifs
.

What is she thinking?