Vivian's List (Vol. 1) (12 page)

I
restrained a shudder. “Can’t handle what you’re telling me. Now I just want to go home and wash my brain out with soap.”

“Wait, wait,” she went on. “I’m not done telling you about sex
during the Crimson Tide.”

When I
appeared somewhat puzzled, she added, “Elmo Riding the Cotton Pony, Time of the Month, Aunt Flo, whatever you wanna call it.”

I rolled my eyes. “I call it my period.”

“Listen.” She waited until I met her gaze. “If you don’t mind doing it on your period, and if he doesn’t think it’s gross, just make sure you throw a beach towel over the sheets. Trust me, or else your bed will end up looking like a double homicide scene.”

“
Chels!” I sent her a long-suffering look.

“All right
, all right.” She set her lips in a pout. “I’ll stop now before I give out too much information.”

“You already did,
Chels.” I bit back a laugh. “You
already
did.”

It was no surprise really, since t
his was classic Chelsea. The TMI queen.

“Okay
.” She flashed a quick manic grin and was now looking at me expectantly. “Your turn now.”

“
Don’t laugh at me, okay? Mine’s pretty lame.” After a fraction of a pause, I started rattling off my list. When I’d finished, Chelsea gave me a hearty slap on the back, propelling me forward. “It’s not lame. It’s
overwhelmingly
lame. But it’s a good start.”

I shrugged in response. “So
what are your plans this summer?”

“Same as always.
” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Take a class at the U, do some surfing, work on my tan. What about you? Are you still going to volunteer at the animal shelter?”

“Yep. I start in two days.” I started to say more but I stopped
mid-sentence, my attention temporarily waylaid by a woman wearing six-inch heels with a bathing suit.

Chelsea and I
looked at each other, wearing identical raised eyebrow expressions.

As soon as the woman was out of earshot, Chelsea whispered,
“Who does she think she is? A Kardashian?”

B
ursting into girlish laughter, we collapsed onto the nearest bench.

For a l
ong while we simply sat and soaked up the rays, people watching. Lunkheads with Ed Hardy shirts, girls in bikinis showing off their tramp stamps, couples playing suck-face and grab-ass.

A
lanky guy walked past us, wearing a red-and-white striped shirt. With his ski hat and hipster glasses, he looked like the Where’s Waldo character, but easily found.

In the near distance, a
young couple caught and held my interest. I found myself watching them as they idly strode down the boardwalk, hand in hand.

In the pallid glare of the
afternoon sun, all I could make out was their silhouetted profile, but there was something about the guy.

I had this
distinct sense I knew who he was.

They appeared to be intimate. He was whispering
something in her ear and she was nuzzling against his chest.

The sun was behind them and
I lifted my hand to shield my face against the glare, narrowing my eyes to get a better look.

Suddenly my lungs could not
pull in enough air and my head grew light.

My hunch had been right.

It was Brody.

And it
was strangely surreal, watching him with a new girl so soon.

Though I was
visibly shaken, I realized that I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even jealous.

And I didn’t hate him.
I found it strange that it would take a lot for me to hate him, and yet it took so little to love him. And I knew it’d be a while before I got over him.

I
pulled some air into my burning lungs, feeling a deep sense of pain and heartbreaking sadness.

Brody
had come into my life after my parents’ passing. Julian and Liam had left to join the army, and I was in such a fragile state and in a pretty bad place. But Brody was there for me every step of the way. Completely.

At the same time,
Brody was also the person who hurt me. He made me so happy, and yet at the same time he made me so sad.

It was so unfathomable, so incomprehensible that I couldn’t even
begin to explain it to myself, let alone Chelsea.

I’d kept on
overlooking his flaws, blocking out the hurt, blocking out the pain, doubting myself because it seemed less painful than accepting the reality of the situation … recognizing Brody for what he was—an abuser.

Now
I found myself dealing with this loss, and grieving this loss.

The loss of an illusion.

It suddenly occurred to me that I had been staring at Brody for a long while.

I
looked away with determination, watching the waves surge against the shore like some fickle lover, hurrying up to steal a kiss, and then slipping away.

Surge.

Then fade away.

Surge.

Fade away.

Chapter Fourteen

Liam

I twisted my body and glanced at the alarm clock. It was almost noon.

As
I eased back against the pillow, my first thought was of Vivian.

How was she?
Would she hate me today?

A fami
liar sense of concern filled me. But comingled with the concern was an even more foreign emotion. I stared at the ceiling, searching for a word for that emotion.

It almost felt like excitement. Yes,
that was it.

M
y mind was abuzz with excitement and possibility. I was anxious to talk to her. Anxious to make her smile. To make her laugh.

I took a mental step back to examine my own feelings. If I was being honest with myself,
my own feelings for Viv began well before we even had sex.

While s
he was my friend first, before all else, I’d always been drawn to her, always felt more than a physical pull … like a magnetic force field.

A force far stronger than my own mind or my
own will.

And I was still drawn to
Viv. Emotionally and now physically, too.

I couldn’t deny it. There was something between us.

The sexual attraction sizzled, and the emotional connection was there, too.

Perhaps
it was there all along, and I’d been too stupid to recognize it.

Or perhaps
I’d been too busy fighting it.

Skyping
with my mom last night had helped calm my fraying nerves. She helped me see things a little differently, and give me another perspective on things.

Despite
Vivian’s resilient front, I now saw past the bravado.

She was on shaky emotional ground a
nd it certainly wouldn’t help if I pulled away from her now. By being intimate with her, by showing her how much she was cared for and loved just for
herself
, and by making her feel at peace, defenses unnecessary … perhaps Viv would see that love wasn’t something to fear, rather something to cherish.

But
what about Julian
? A small voice in my head asked.
You’re hooking up with his little sister
.

Best Case Scenario: Julian would eventually get over it once he came to realize that I’d never hurt
Viv.

Worst Case Scenario: Julian would beat the shit out of me and I’d lose the one
true friend I had.

T
he sound of front door banging shut broke into my thoughts.

I slipped out of bed,
pulled on a pair of jeans and strode out in search of her.

I found
Viv in the kitchen, busying herself with the blender and some ice.

Her hair had started to loosen from her ponytail,
and soft tendrils framed her angelic face.

My gaze dropped to take in her frayed denim shorts that
were hugging her hips and showing off her rounded curves and long, slender legs.

An image from our night together flashed before my eyes
. My hands, like a vise, clamping around her hips.

I shook my head and
drew in a deep steadying breath, trying to dispel that image.

“Hi,
” I said, coming to stand next to her.

“Hi.” Her voice
was strained. She was pouring a cup of black coffee into the blender, her movements jerky—with nerves or anger, I was not certain.

I studied her
in silence, trying to work out how she was feeling. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Yes
, I’m fine,” she said too cheerfully as she added some milk to the blender.

She
surely didn’t appear to be fine.

Physically she might have been
present, but emotionally she seemed miles away.

Was she upset about last night? Did she regret it?

“Viv,” I said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I think we should talk.”

“About what?”
She walked to the fridge, retrieved a can of whipped cream and slammed the fridge with deliberate force.

“About
last night.” My voice was uncertain, with none of the self-assurance I usually felt. “Do you regret it?”

“No.” She glanced up at me, the blush along her cheekbones
turning rosier. “I don’t.”

In the awkward silence, she
tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m making a Frappuccino,” she said suddenly. “Would you like some? Are you hungry? I can fix you a sandwich.”

“
Viv,” I said gently in an attempt to stop her nervous ramblings. “Look at me.”

Taking a deep breath, s
he set the canister of whipped cream on the island top, then lifted her gaze.

I
took a step closer, my hand coming up to caress her cheek. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed or shy around me, okay? I’m still the same Liam.”

“
I know,” she said, turning her face into my palm. “It’s not you. I’m just a little preoccupied at the moment.”

Worry creased my brows.
“About what?”

She hedged and seemed on the verge of saying more, but didn’t. “Nothing.” She smiled a little
, catching her plump lower lip between her teeth. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

S
unlight filtered through the large bay windows, bathing her in a luminous glow, and for a long moment all I could do was stare at her.

“Liam?” she said
softly, gazing into my eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” She pressed her lips together as if to stop them from trembling. “Thank you for having my back.”

I
held her gaze steadily. “Always.”

After too long a silence,
guilt resurfaced and my conscience caught up with me. “Viv, about your list, I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you … of your circumstances. And I don’t want you thinking you made a mistake later on. If you want, we can just forget about the whole damn thing.”

“No.
” Her hand came up to touch my face, her fingers tracing the shape of my jawline. “I don’t want to forget about the list.”

“All right
then.” I inhaled her sweet, familiar scent, my groin pulsing against my jeans with aching need. “Do you want us to go slower?”

“No,
” she said again. There was no doubt in her eyes. No regrets. “Actually…” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I was hoping we’d go a little faster.”

I swallowed hard. “
How fast are you talking?”

She looked me directly in the eye.
“Like right now.”

I was practically brought to my knees by a rush of desire.

Tentatively, her hand came to rest on my chest. With slow, unhurried strokes, her fingers began exploring as her full lips brushed against mine.

I
gave her free rein, gritting my teeth as she smoothed her palm down the front of my jeans, raking her sharp fingernails over my erection, moving slowly, gently, even a little uncertainly.

Blood rushed to my groin
at the deliciousness of her shy exploration.

M
y cock strained against my jeans, my muscles coiling with need to touch her.

Without breaking the kiss
, I cupped her rounded ass and lifted her onto the island counter.

S
kimming my hands down her sides, I explored the delicate ridges of her rib cage until I found the hem of her shirt.

Vivian
wrapped her long legs around me and raised her arms slightly above her head.

Without hesitation,
I peeled off her shirt and her ample breasts spilled free.

God. She wasn’t even wearing a bra.

With a flick of my hand, I cast the shirt aside and Viv sank back against the granite countertop, levering herself up on her elbows and lifting her pelvis so I could remove her denim shorts.

As I started to tug at her shorts, I felt her heavy gaze upon me and
glanced up.

My heart lodged in my throat.
Not in any of my dreams did I imagine I would see her look at me that way. With such sweet innocence and such naked longing.

It
softened my heart yet hardened my body to the point of burning need. Knowing she wanted me as badly as I wanted her was a major turn-on.

Without wasting any more time,
I got rid of the rest of her clothes in quick succession and Vivian leaned back, gloriously naked against the black granite countertop.

I
appraised her with my eyes, drinking up the wanton sight of her.

She had shaved her pussy and I could almost
see her plump clit peeking out from her pink folds.

My eyes darkened with heat
, and desire tore through every nerve ending in my body.

Under
my scrutiny, her movements grew clumsy. As she shifted her weight, her left arm jerked slightly, knocking over the canister of whipped cream.

Without planning or thought
, I reached for the whipped cream, shook the canister hard and squeezed the nozzle, coating the entire surface of her tits with cream.

Bracing my
hands on either side of her, I leaned forward and licked the cream from her breasts, circling my tongue over the widest circumference, slowly spiraling inward toward her dusky areolas, savoring the velvety sweetness of the cream as it swirled inside my mouth.

Her head rolled
back and she let out a breathy moan, knotting her fingers in my hair, holding me firmly against her chest as I feasted on her breasts, sucking and tonguing her sweet flesh.

At last
I closed my lips around her areola and took one engorged nipple in my mouth, suckling the cool cream from the rapidly hardening peak.

She released a deep, full-body sigh
as I drew on the tip with more suction, hollowing my cheeks as I suckled harder and harder.

So hard that
I heard a popping sound when her nipple slipped free.

A low
whimper eased from her throat as I tore my lips away from her creamy breasts.

I reached for the canister and shook it again.
Aiming the nozzle down, I pressed it to release a ribbon of cold whipped cream over her shaved pussy.

Vivian
remained spread across the granite island top, breasts heaving, watching my every movement.

My
desirous gaze roamed over her body. “Viv—” My voice died in my throat when she moved a single fingertip downward and scooped up a dollop of cream.

Mesmerized,
I watched her enticing mouth as she sucked the cream from her index finger, working her tongue up and down and around it, savoring every last morsel.

“
Viv,” I rasped, swallowing a groan. “You’re killin’ me.”

A
coy little smile pulled at her lips as she brought her legs up so her ankles were resting on the edge of the granite countertop.

O
ur gazes tangled. Without breaking eye contact, I brought my mouth to her creamy pussy and ran my tongue along the full length of her labia, cleaning up the sweet, creamy mess. And all the while I watched her, piercing her with my heated stare.

Her
warmth and scent surrounded me and my cock throbbed painfully in my jeans.

A growl rumbled deep in my chest.
I couldn’t bring myself to stop tasting her.

I wanted to eat her out
until she screamed.

With focused attention,
I reached for the canister and pressed the nozzle, hearing her gasp as a gush of cold cream filled her pussy.

Leaning forward,
I lapped up the cold cream from her fevered skin, moving at a leisurely pace, taking immense pleasure in the way her rapt gaze was fixed on my mouth as I ate out of her pussy.

Sighing, she brought one hand down to my head, sifting through my hair as I lapped at her labia languidly
. Lazily. Relentlessly.

Taking
my own sweet time.

Taking
all the time in the world.

She didn’t seem to mind.

“Ah. Ahhh.” Her words came out in husky whispers. When my tongue found that ultrasensitive nub of her sex, those whispers turned to lusty whimpers with every delicious stroke.

S
he clung to me, tilting her hips, demanding a firmer touch.

Inste
ad I gave her just the opposite. I slowed my strokes, pressing my lips to her inner folds, teasing her with soft nibbles on her clit.