Two Weeks (31 page)

We breathe into one another, our tongues coiling and dueling inside our mouths. I want him so bad, and I want him now. And just as if he was reading my mind, his hand pulls my bikini bottom out of the way and he slides right into me.

"Oh, God, Jackson," I moan. It's a subdued moan since we're outside in broad daylight, but definitely
not
a quiet one. There's nothing between us this time, and I feel so much more than I usually do. It's a step in, well,
some
direction.

As always, he feels so big and instantly fills me completely. He holds me slightly above the water. I start to rock my hips, and he does the same. We meet in the middle with pure bliss.

More subdued gasps escape my throat. He gives me exactly what I need right now. Undulating waves of pleasure surge throughout me; the surface of the water reminds me of how they move. His eyes never leave mine. He pulls this right out of me, taking what he wants.

I won't lie—it's a little awkward out here, and less than perfect in a number of ways. But God, the forbidden element takes it somewhere else. I ride him, up and down, back and forth, feeling every single beautiful inch of him as it was meant to be felt.

And then he gets his fingers involved and I lose it very quickly. My back tenses and I press my face against his body as my muscles contract. "Jackson," I moan directly into his shoulder, the sounds muffled by wet flesh and rushing water.

He follows right along with me until my peak, and then he lets go, letting out a gritty, snarling sound as he comes. I
really
feel him come this time, and I love it. When he's spent, he goes in to the hilt and holds himself there.

I feel full, literally and mentally. A
perfect
full.

And not two minutes after we're done, a jet ski roars by in the distance, startling the hell out of me. I instinctively cover my breasts, which are thankfully still totally obscured by my top. "Shit!" I shout.

"It's okay," he says with a chuckle. "They didn't see anything, I promise."

I start laughing until the point of tears. "I can't believe the crazy shit I'm doing these days. Old me never would have done this in a million years." I ease him out of me, and with that, we're back to regular interaction. "I normally don't even
kiss
in public, let alone, uh, go all the way."

"Well, you're on vacation," he says. "If you're going to do crazy stuff, that's the time to do it."

He's right.

After our swimwear is back in place, we depart the water and then head inside—to
more water
in the shower. It's a little tight in there with the both of us, but we make do.

By the time we're dressed and ready to go out, my stomach is grumbling. By this point, I'm pretty much willing to eat anything—fried, grilled, boiled, broiled, whatever.

"There's a good Italian restaurant," Jackson says. He's straightening out his hair in the mirror as if anyone will notice the very subtle edges he's fine-tuning. It's cute and amusing to watch him work.

When he's finally ready, we head into town and stuff ourselves with seafood ravioli and garlic bread sticks. And there's salad and many glasses of white wine somewhere in there as well. We split a huge piece of tiramisu at the end.

"This is killing me," I say. This place is amazing. Are they on Yelp?"

"I don't know," Jackson says. "It's the only Italian place in town, so I don't really care
what
the reviews say."

Despite our food comas, we make it home safely. And then, in my semi-drunken stupor, I convince him to open up the jacuzzi after our extensive feast. We don't even bother putting on our bathing suits this time, and just hop in totally naked.

I cuddle up to him, enjoying every minute—and wishing it could go on forever. After about an hour in the hot, bubbly water, we make our way back inside and dry off, eventually settling on the couch to watch some TV.

Not long after, I start dozing off, and Jackson carries me upstairs and gently sets me on the bed, smothering me with warm blankets.

I lean forward and kiss his cheek. "Thank you," I say.

And then I sleep.

Jackson

A
gain, I'm thankful to have Ally beside me when I wake. Unfortunately, my minimal shift in position is enough to wake her. She groans and rubs her eyes.

"How are you doing?" I ask with a smile.

"Hung over. But happy."

"Ready to get up?"

"Just a little more sleep."

I sit up. "I'm gonna go for a quick run then. Is that okay?"

"Is fine. Just go." She's snoring again seconds later.

I smile and climb out of bed. I find my running shorts in my backpack and head out. It's another nice day and I run my familiar route along the river. It's about six miles, so I'm back in less than an hour.

As expected, Ally isn't around when I get back. And I'm guessing she's still in bed. I down a glass of water and then head up to the bedroom. Sure enough, she's right where I left her.

I lightly stroke her hair, appreciating how soft and smooth it is. Her skin is irradiant with sunlight. "Hi, again," I say.

Her eyes open mechanically. "Oh, hey. Back already, huh?"

I nod. "Yeah. I'm going to make some coffee now, okay?"

The amount of happiness on her face reaches critical mass and I'm worried she'll explode with joy any minute now. "Thank you."

I go right to work.

Today we'll go out on the jet skis and goof around. My plan is to fuel them up after breakfast and then lug them out to the water.

As I start digging in the cupboard for coffee, I realize I'm totally out.
Shit.
I'll have to pick some up in town along with other supplies if we're actually planning on doing any cooking.

I run back up the stairs and knock on the half opened door to the bedroom. Ally's still in bed, but she's awake. "Bad news," I say. "I'm all out of coffee."

"Really?" she whines. "What do we do now?"

"Get yourself dressed and we'll go out to breakfast."

She sits up. "That'll work."

I throw on a t-shirt and change into different shorts, and surprisingly, she's ready at the same time I am because she just puts on the same clothes from yesterday. It's her quirky floral-pattern dress that's both cute and sexy.

We go to the best breakfast joint in town, a diner-type place. She gets blueberry pancakes, and I get chocolate chip ones. And when the food arrives at the table, we each trade one pancake for the other.

"They should have a pancake combo," Ally says, excitedly sipping her coffee. I've already downed one cup myself, so I'm feeling pretty good too. "You know; one blueberry, one chocolate chip, and one... some other fruit."

"Maybe you should try them first before you start re-working the menu," I remind her.

"Oh, yeah." She takes a big bite of the chocolate chip one she stole from me. "Yep, just as I suspected—perfect. Too addictive. Let's complain to management."

The rest of breakfast goes smoothly, and despite her intent to complain, Ally doesn't say anything. I can only assume she forgot.

We leave the restaurant and stop by the only supermarket in town. The wine selection is fairly limited, but there’s some decent stuff. With Ally's help, I grab two bottles and some coffee and we make our way toward the front.

"Should I get any food?" I ask. "Do you think we'll actually cook while we're here?"

Ally shrugs. She's standing next to a huge, towering display of cheap beer and it makes her look so tiny. "I mean, I would definitely be okay with eating at that breakfast place again."

"That's only one meal out of a possible three per day. And that doesn't count snacks."

An intense look of concentration breaks out on her face. If I didn't know better, I'd assume she was trying to do some upper level calculus. "Uh, let's grab some snacks. Yeah. Hummus and chips or something. We've got like six more meals before we leave, and we might want something late at night."

"All right."

We stroll over to the refrigerated section and find some hummus, and then grab some pita bread on the way to the front. It's nothing fancy, but it'll do.

After we're home and the food is put away, I tell her to suit up.

"What are we doing?" she asks.

"Today is jet ski day," I remind her enthusiastically. "It's gorgeous out there. You're gonna love it."

She gives me a tentative look. "Do you really think I can handle that?"

"It's less manly than you think. They're stupidly easy to run. Kids figure them out in seconds."

"What if it storms or something? While we're out there?"

As usual, she's vacillating. "Go put on your suit and some sunscreen. You gotta trust me on this."

She shrugs and takes a deep breath and rolls her eyes all at once. "Okay, fine. But if I hate it, I'm coming right back."

"Fair enough," I say. "I only said
try
, not spend ten hours roaming the coastline."

I throw on my bathing suit and some sunscreen and head out to the shed. It's right next to the water, so I don't have to drag the jet skis far. I fuel them up and make sure everything looks in order. I'm not sure when they were last used, so it's important for me to do a quick maintenance check.

The life vests are hanging on the wall. I grab two of them, one pink, one blue. By the time I come out of the shed, Ally is standing there, impatient look on her face, clad in that same dark blue bikini that drove me wild yesterday. Her eyes are hidden behind big sunglasses.

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this."

I let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, you'll love it. Believe me. Probably never thought you'd enjoy an MMA fight either, right?"

It's obvious that she hates that I'm bringing this up. "Okay, okay. You're
so
right. You clearly know me better than I do."

"That's what I thought." I toss her the pink life vest.

"What's this for?" she asks. "I
can
swim."

"If you get knocked unconscious, you might not
be able
to swim."

She stares back, and then finally shrugs. "All right. I guess I'll stop complaining," she says proudly. I breathe a sigh of relief. She puts on the life vest and tightens the straps.

I pull her jet ski toward the water, just enough that it's still resting on the sand. "Okay, hop on and put your feet into those wells."

She takes my hand and climbs on, getting into position. When she's situated, I continue with my instructions.

"The throttle is right there." I point to her right hand. "Wrap the engine stop key around your wrist."

"Like a treadmill?"

"Right." This comparison seems to excite her. "Turn by rotating the handles. It's pretty intuitive."

"Where's the brake?" she asks.

I give her a wry smile. "There isn't one."

"Hey!" she whines. "I thought you said—"

"The force of the water against the front is enough to stop you when you want to. You just go, and then you ease up. That's how it works. Press that
start
button when you're ready."

"I'm not ready yet," she says matter-of-factly.

"No problem. So press it when you are." I shove her forward and she squeals as she floats out into the water.

I grab my jet ski and slowly push it forward until it's floating. I keep it level and climb on. Ally is still waiting for me, and she doesn't look too thrilled.

"Oh, one more thing," I say. "If you're worried about crashing into something, don't let off the throttle entirely. The steering stops working if you do that. Just keep some throttle as you turn."

"Anything else,
Captain
?" she asks sarcastically.

"Uh, if you fall off, flip the jet ski over so it's not submerged for too long."

"This is so complicated." She's staring down at the very basic controls like she's trying to read Latin.

"And how many zillions of rules are there when you drive a car?"

"Okay. I'm gonna shut up now and press the start button."

"Go for it." We both press the buttons at the same time and the engines roar to life. I hear her giggling almost immediately.

"Give it some throttle," I shout.

Ally squeezes the trigger way too hard and zips off into the water, her hair flying behind her back. I hear screams, but I'm not sure if they're of ecstasy or fear.

I hit the throttle and trail behind her, passing her almost immediately. She's like a beginner driving a car in a parking lot, constantly starting and stopping as she gets a feel for it.

"Smooth!" I shout. I'm not sure if she can even hear me.

I ride out toward some deeper water and she follows. There's a rock wall and a boundary line that we can follow along the shore for a while. The air is full of seagulls that cast tiny shadows on the water.

I always love soaking up the smells and sights of the open water and I'm hoping that she's deriving
some
enjoyment from this.

My pace is steady, not too slow or fast. We cruise along together and when we reach the rock wall, I slow down and allow her to catch up. I kill the throttle and just float. "Are you doing okay?" I shout.

"I think so," she says weakly. "I'm not so jerky anymore."

"Good. Let's go along the rocks. Keep some distance from them."

I kick on the throttle again and she follows, staying right beside me this time. We cruise along the rocks for several miles, going at a fairly brisk pace. The skies are totally clear—and the jet skis are full of gas—so I'm not too concerned about how far we travel.

It's a great view of all of the fancy beachside mansions, some that are barely visible from the road due to the dense woods surrounding them. Rich folks love their privacy, but they also want direct access to the beach.

I keep my eyes trained on Ally as we go. She seems to be staring off into space like I am, enjoying the gorgeous, sprawling views of uncluttered land and water. It's proving to be a great time, at least from what I can tell.

We bounce along the surface of the water, and I swear I see a big smile break out on her face. She speeds up and starts to pass me. I give her the middle finger and let her get in front.