Wet (14 page)

“Uh huh,” I agree, not asking for an explanation of this place he’s mentioned. Evidently he’s done a lot of research. I sit down on the edge of his bed. “Hey, Patrick? Can I ask you what happened with Elle?”

There’s a long pause while he stares into space. I’m almost ready to change the subject when he replies.

“I thought she was enjoying our date. She seemed to like the exhibit, but at the end of the afternoon, when I asked her out again, she said no.”

I can see the disappointment in his eyes and it makes me feel bad for him. “I’m sorry, dude. Did she say why?”

“She said I was a great guy but her heart already belonged to someone else. She was hoping we could be friends.”

My stomach sinks. Is it more serious than she’s been saying with the Viking? I thought he was only for sex. Maybe she hasn’t been straight with me.

Patrick looks oddly relieved by my reaction. “So you’re surprised?”

“Yeah, I am. She’s been seeing this guy, an architect for a few weeks, but I didn’t think she was that into him. I guess I was wrong.”

“So you talk to her a lot?”

“Well, we’re pretty good friends. Why?”

“Just wondering. She seems great. Why haven’t you asked her out?”

“When we first met I thought she was everything I needed to avoid.”

“She is really different than the girls you used to hang out with. What do you think about her now?”

“I think that we make great friends. And that’s probably a good thing since apparently the kind of guy she goes for isn’t anything like me.”

Patrick doesn’t respond but he looks deep in thought.

“Hey, Ma has the pound cake you like for dessert. Let’s go have some, okay?”

He nods and gets up. I pat him on the back, and ruffle his hair, all brotherly-like, before we walk down the hall.

His sandy brown hair is thick and the mess I’ve made of it gives him an edge. “You should always wear it that way,” I say. “Chicks like it like that . . . mark my word.”

“Okay,” Patrick says with a shy smile. He stops me right before we enter the dining room. “Hey, I’m sorry that Lourdes didn’t work out either.”

I nod. “Thanks, man.”

“Was she really that weird?”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You have no idea. Tell you what? Let’s go out for a drink next week and I’ll share the story.”

“I’d like that.”

Chapter Eight

SPIN CYCLE

I
don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t stop thinking about her. Something about the idea of Elle in Maui is the sharp snap of a match being lit. I feel the wave of heat every time I think of her with him and it burns.

What if she really is in love with the Viking? I haven’t heard from her in three days. I start second guessing my decision not to sleep with her when I could have.

I can’t stop myself from imagining all the ways I would take her on the beach in Maui, rolling over the dunes and fucking her slow until every inch of our bodies was covered with sand. I’d drive her over the edge with the pounding waves drowning out our moans.

For hours after we would shake the sand out of our hair, and feel the burn of sex on our skin. I can almost smell the salt and faint whiff of coconut simmering off her warm body.

Just when I think I’m going to start shopping for airline tickets to the islands to steal her away from him, she texts me.

I can’t even Paulie . . .

What does that mean exactly?

I wish she’d called instead of texted. I really miss hearing her voice and all her little sighs.

I’m really relaxed and so tan, the most glorious bronze tone. And all this swimming has done wonders for my thighs and my ass is so tight . . . I may never return to the mainland.

I guess the trip has loosened her up again to toy with me.

Don’t be such a tease.

But I like teasing you.

Is that how it is? That’s cold.

No it isn’t . . . it’s hot. And furthermore I went and bought a teeny tiny white bikini today and I’m pretty sure I have never, nor will ever, look this good again. So you don’t just like me, if you could see me you’d want me. Badly. I’m certain your resistance over screwing me would crumble.

It’s hard to say if I would’ve crumbled since you aren’t around to show me.

Take my word for it.

Pictures or it never happened.

How can I shoot a full-length picture of myself? If I ask Stephan he will get suspicious.

Have you ever heard of those magic pieces of glass called mirrors? They work astounding well for full-length selfies.

Of course! What was I thinking! Give me 5 . . .

I pace back and forth across my living room until my phone finally pings. My fingers tremble as I press on the tiny jpeg of her and wait for it to go full size.

Oh. My. God.

I fall back into the armchair and brace my arms so I can study this picture indefinitely.

She texts when several minutes pass with no response from me.

Well?

You’re right.

About what specifically?

It’s a good thing you aren’t here.

Because . . .

That tiny bikini would be in tiny shreds on the floor.

Sigh. That’s so hot Paulie.

Well, you’re seriously hot. Surely you know this.

Mmm maybe. But I really like hearing you say it.

Something about the flirting in her texts is making me wild. It’s bad enough that just looking at her bikini shot has me all worked up, but her teasing has resulted an epic hard-on. It’s frustrating because I have to keep stopping fisting it to reply to her texts. Thank God for voice command on this phone, ’cause I want to just close my eyes and imagine her straddling me with her tits in my face as she grinds over me.

Hey Paulie . . . will you swim with me in the ocean sometime?

I’ll swim with you anywhere if you wear that bikini.

I wish Stephan was fun like you.

I’m glad he isn’t. It makes me extra awesome.

I’ll say. Do you know what he’s doing right now?

On another business call?

No, he’s following the room maid around supervising her work. He’s done it every day. It makes me want to scream.

I bet. But I don’t want to talk about him, I want to talk about you.

I also want to tell her how much I miss her but that wouldn’t be cool considering everything.

Hey, Paul, I know we’re just friends and all but will you be looking at my hot bikini picture later when you get off?

I swallow hard. She knows me so well.

What makes you think I’m not looking at it and getting off now?

Are you?

Yes.

Pictures or it didn’t happen.

Use your imagination.

Believe me, I am.

Time for me to finish what you started, naughty tease.

Me too. Xoxo

I remember that she mentioned an important set of meetings in the following week so I’m assuming she’s back home, unless the Viking pulled a fast one. I keep hoping she’ll call or send me more dirty texts, but nothing. So on Tuesday I drive by her house early evening and don’t see any sign of her, but when I do the same Wednesday I see her on her porch with a watering can, moving from one flower pot to another.

She must have just come from work because she’s wearing one of those tight business-like navy skirts and a white fitted jacket thing that shows off her golden tan. I let out a long sigh and either I’m having a caffeine reaction, or my heart is racing just at the sight of her. I roll down the window and lean my head out.

“Hey lady! Haven’t you heard we’ve got a drought going on?”

She holds her hand up above her brow to shield the sun until she spots me.

Grinning, I wave.

She puts her hand on her hip and shakes her head. “Mr. Sprinkler is chastising me about using water?”

I park and step out of my car. “So what if I am?”

“You want to come regulate me, Mr. Official Guy?”

“Maybe I will.” I amble up to her front porch and flash a pretend harsh look. “How much water have you used with this activity?”

“Ha! Not enough!” she exclaims as she steps closer and tips her can in my direction. “You know what? You’re distracting me, and when I’m distracted my aim with the watering can isn’t so good,” she says with a flirty side-glance.

I pretend not to notice that’s she’s watering my feet and before she’s figured out my plan, I try to wrestle the can out of her hand. The resulting struggle creates a splash that soaks the front of her jacket.

I expect her to shriek and jump back, but instead she slowly unbuttons her jacket and opens the front, revealing the sheer white blouse she’s wearing underneath. We both stare at each other and then down at her chest as the water that splashed down her neckline does its magic.

Hot damn.
If this were a wet T-shirt contest, she’d win, hands down.

I can’t help but stare with a lascivious grin.

“You like that, don’t you?” she asks with an arched brow.

“You bet I do.”

She nods her head toward the front door. “Wanna beer?”

“Sure.”

As I follow her I’m mesmerized by how good her curvy hips look in that skirt, and the click of her high heel pumps on the wood floor. “Is that how you dress for work?”

“Yes, I’ve just come from a meeting.”

I imagine all the business men leering at her and it pisses me off. “It’s kind of sexy, don’t you think?”

“You think this is sexy?” she asks, turning to me.

“I do—and especially now,” I say, looking down where the thin fabric is clinging to the top of her breasts like a second skin.

“Well, that doesn’t count. When the jacket is on it’s essentially a business suit.”

I shrug. “Maybe it’s just you. You have this ability to make everything look sexy.”

“So how was Maui?” I ask after settling down at her kitchen table.

“Beautiful. It was good to get away.”

I nod and glance down, resisting picking at the label on my beer bottle.

“So, was it everything you’d hoped with the Viking?”

She shrugs. “It was fine. A mix of good and not-so-good—you know what I mean?”

I nod silently even if though I really want to know what she means by that. I remember my conversation with Patrick that made me think she’d fallen in love. If that’s true she certainly hides it well.

“Did you get your sex on the beach?”

She makes a cute little face. “I had to get him liquored up and really worked into a frenzy to even get down to the beach. I was determined . . . sex on the beach has always been on my bucket list.”

I have to wonder what else is on her bucket list. Is there anything on it that I could give her?

“So you said it was mixed. What was the good part?”

She twists a strand of her long hair in her fingers. “It’s hard to explain. But something about being on the shore made me feel kind of raw and wild. It was like I was on the edge of the earth with the moonlit waves crashing at our feet. It made me feel like an animal in the wilderness. I devoured him.”

My damn cock starts to get hard imagining raw and wild Elle, which is just an abomination since the Viking is involved.
Traitor cock!

“Did he like being devoured?”

“Apparently, until in my passion, I kicked up the blankets and coated him with sand. You’d think I’d set his hair on fire the way he leapt up and squealed like a little girl.”

I throw my head back and laugh whole-heartedly.

She smiles at my reaction.

“So was that the end of it?”

“Hardly. No, I taunted him then and we argued which resulted in him fucking me hard, which was really hot. It was so hot and aggressive that I got rubbed raw from the sand.”

I feel annoyed at the idea of it and hold up my hand. “Too much information.”

“Believe me, there’s nothing sexy about sand abrasion.”

“Way too much information,” I groan.

“Well, have you done it on the beach?”

“Does in the ocean count?”

“You did it in the ocean?”

“Yeah, you sound surprised.”

She sighs. “No. Just jealous.”

“Should
I
be jealous? You’re the one who just had a love connection in Maui.”

She looks up at me with wide eyes. “Are you?”

I shrug. “Maybe, just a little.”

Grinning, she punches me on the shoulder. “Oh you!” She settles down on the stool next to me and takes a sip of her beer. “So I want to ask you a favor.”

“Okay . . .”

“It’s a big favor—really big.”

“Do you have another burned out light bulb in some heavy ass light fixture?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s a much bigger favor than that. I’d really appreciate it if you could take me to my bestie’s wedding this September. I mean, I know weddings are torture for dudes—”

I jump in before she goes on. “Sure, I’ll take you.”

“And it’s formal . . .” She makes a grim face like she’s really trying to talk me out of it.

“Awesome. I look hot in a tux. Besides, I love weddings!”

Her mouth falls open. “You love weddings?”

“What’s not to love? It’s a big party and everyone’s happy.”

“You’re killing me with this, Paulie. Are you toying with me? I thought all men hated weddings.”