“Perfect,” he responds, looping his arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my head. “We’re ready when you are, Oscar.”
Minutes later, we’re traveling at a low speed through the calm seas, and Davis is leading me around the boat, teaching me the different terminology of each of the parts and explaining what they all do. Honestly, it’s an information overload, and by the end of the tour, all I can really remember is the mainsail, the jib, the mast, and the boom. I hope there’s not a quiz at the end of the ride.
“How do you know so much about this stuff?” I ask, amazed at his seemingly limitless knowledge on the subject.
“My dad used to sail a lot when I was a kid.” He sits down on a padded bench facing out the front of the boat, patting the spot between his legs for me to join him. “We have a beach house in Galveston, which is only a few hours from our house, and we used to go there at least two or three weekends a month during the summer. My sisters never wanted to go out with him—they always said it was too much work—so he and I spent quite a few hours on the water together.”
I pull my knees to my chest, curling up in his lap. “How many sisters do you have?”
“Two, both older,” he replies. “They’re both married with kids now. What about you?”
Shaking my head no, I murmur, “Nope, just me and my granny.”
He envelops me in his arms, trailing kisses across my shoulder. “I bet your granny is a pretty cool lady to have raised someone like you.”
“She’s the best.”
For the next several minutes, we remain quiet, both of us absorbing the mesmerizing setting surrounding us. The faint lights from the island appear to be quite a good distance off, enhancing the canopy of twinkling stars blanketing the sky and the lustrous glow of the crescent moon hanging overhead. Soft waves crashing against the boat mixed with the muted instrumental piece playing down in the cabin create an ambiance I only thought existed in books and movies. I truly feel like I’m living in a fairytale in this moment.
“I never expected this when I came . . . never expected you,” I whisper, my eyes glued to the glimmering heavens, afraid to see the expression on his face at my confession.
He tightens his arms around me, cuddling me closer as he burrows his face in the back of my neck. “Me neither, Bristol. Me neither.”
“I’ve felt more alive in the past few days than I have in the past twelve years.” I take a deep breath and twist around to face him, straddling his lap. “I don’t want to go home. I’m afraid I’ll feel dead inside again, and I like feeling alive.”
“We still have ten more days; don’t worry about that now.” His light brown eyes plead with mine. “Let’s enjoy the time we have. More than anyone, we of all people should understand no one is guaranteed tomorrow.”
I rest my forehead against his, rubbing my hands over his short hair, allowing my lips to linger close enough to his that we share a breath. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re too sexy and smart for your own good?”
“Most people don’t get past the sexy.” He nibbles on my bottom lip, grinning deviously. “Let’s go downstairs and get a snack and a glass of wine before I strip you and take you right here in front of Uncle Oscar.”
For the next hour-and-a-half, we eat, drink, joke, and make out under the stars right up until the time the sailboat returns to the beach in front of Ti Kaye, where the guys are waiting for us in the little fishing boat. We thank Oscar over and over again for the incredible trip; I even see Davis tipping him a wad of money as we disembark, earning him even more brownie points in my book. Generosity is an undervalued characteristic in our society today, so many people do it only for the notoriety and not to really help out those who need it. Deep down, he’s not even close to the dick he pretends to be.
Leisurely strolling back to our cottages, we pass several familiar faces including Charlotte, Lynnette, and Isaac, who are sitting around the open-air bar. “You want to go have a drink with your friends?” Davis asks, nodding his head in their direction. “I don’t mind if we stop.”
I smile up at him, shaking my head. “No, I’m ready to get in the plunge pool with you, but I appreciate the offer.”
We wave at them as we walk by. I’m sure they’re all making their own assumptions about what is going on between us, most of which are probably spot on, but I can’t worry about what others think. I just have to focus on feeling alive . . . one day at a time.
Davis suggests we hang out at his place tonight, so I hurry to change into my swimsuit, despite his insisting I really don’t need one. He’s already in the plunge pool when I arrive, a soft melody from his phone floating across the deck with the warm sea breeze.
“Get your gorgeous ass in here,” he drawls as soon as he sees me, and I happily comply.
He extends his hands towards me as I lower myself in the chilly pool, grasping me by the waist and pulling me into his lap—my new favorite place.
“Thank you so much for tonight, Davis.” I cup his jaw, skimming my thumb over his dark stubble as I gaze intensely into his eyes. “I still can’t believe you did all that for me.”
He weaves his fingers around the back of my neck and into my hair, kissing me softly. “Wait ’til you see what else I’ve got planned,” he mumbles against my lips.
“What are you talking about?!” I exclaim, dumbfounded. “When did you have time to plan things?”
“You’ll see,” he replies with a secretive grin. “It pays to make friends with the locals.”
“Crazy boy,” I lightly suck on his bottom lip, eliciting a groan from him, “you’re gonna spoil me.”
Tugging my head back, his mouth drops to my neck, kissing and nipping a heated path down the sensitive skin. “You deserve to be spoiled, Bristol. Let me do it.”
“Why?” I pant breathlessly, grinding my body against his steeled erection.
In one fluid motion, his hands fall from my hair and effortlessly untie my bikini top. He growls under his breath as the small piece of fabric drifts away, leaving my exposed breasts bobbing at the surface of the water. Smirking, he lowers his mouth to one of my hardened nipples. “Why not?” he asks just before flicking his tongue across it.
I half-laugh, half-shiver with delight at his adorable arrogance. Pushing him away from my chest, I shake my head as I raise up onto his knees. “Uh-uh. Tonight, it’s my turn to take care of you,” I remind him.
And that’s exactly what I do.
IF I WASN’T ALREADY in trouble with this girl before she wrapped her juicy lips around my dick, I sure as hell am now. Her mouth fits my cock like an expensive, tailored suit created specifically for every nook and ridge of my shaft.
“Fuck, Bristol,” I grunt as I watch her head bob up and down in my lap, swallowing me completely each time.
The second she took hold of my erection underwater, I lifted her up and out of the pool, hauling her fine ass inside my room for complete privacy. She’s now kneeling between my legs as I’m propped up against the fluffy pillows in the bed, my fingers tangling in her hair as she uses her mouth like a damn porn star. Sucking with the perfect amount of force, she simultaneously curls her tongue round and round while lightly scraping her teeth across the base. One of her hands expertly fondles my ball sac while the other plays with her own tits, pinching and rolling her nipples between her fingers.
Where in the fuck did she learn to do this?
Never mind. I don’t want to know.
The internal pressure builds quickly, despite my effort to last longer than five minutes. She peers up at me through dark, full lashes, her glassy eyes glimmer with acknowledgement of what she’s doing.
“Pl-please stop,” my mouth begs, but my hands hold her head tight against me. “I’m gonna come soon.”
She opens her mouth, gaze steadily locked on my face, waiting . . . daring me to fulfill my promise. The next thing I know, I’m exploding, pumping into her mouth with such voracity that I fall back into the pillows with my eyes closed, cal
ling out her name. The euphoric state is so intense I’m unable to move, to talk, or do anything but drift off to sleep in this exact place.
I’m not quite sure how much time passes before I finally wake back up—it could be five minutes; it could be an hour. Raising my lids, I glance around the room, finally finding her curled up in the chair on the other side of the room, already redressed in her swimsuit. Her eyes are open, so she’s obviously not asleep, but the usual expression on her face is different . . . distant.
“Why are you over there?” I croak, battling the dry, barren tundra that is the inside of my mouth. “Come lay with me.”
Bristol lifts her head and smiles an empty smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m pretty tired, so I should head back over to my place. I wanted to wait until you were alert to thank you again for everything tonight.” She unfolds her long legs out from under her and stands up. “No one has ever done anything like that for me before.”
“But wait,” I argue, “I still need to take care of you. I’m ready again now.”
She walks across the room, bending down to kiss my cheek when she reaches my side. “You’ve done plenty tonight, and I’m sleepy. I need to go to bed.”
For a split second, the tiniest measure of time perceivable by the human senses, I see it . . . I feel it. She wants me to ask her to stay the night, to reassure her I’m into her as much as she’s into me.
But I can’t. And I don’t.
Even though I want to. And I am.
The one and only girl I’ve slept with in my life spent her last night alive asleep in my arms. She was my high school girlfriend for nearly two years, and who knows if we’d have beat the odds and stayed together through college and into adulthood, but I do know I loved her. Even though it’s been two years since she’s been gone, I’m scared if I have feelings for someone else or allow another girl to get too close, I’ll be hurting her. And I’d never purposely hurt Emma.
“Okay, I’m pretty tired myself.” I sit up to properly kiss her good night. “You weren’t lying about being trouble on your knees. You straight wore me out with your mouth alone, and that never happens.”
I cringe the second the words leave my mouth, not wanting it to sound like she’s one of many girls I get blowjobs from on a regular basis, so I quickly try to smooth it over. “Will you wait for me tomorrow morning before breakfast? You never know when my next surprise may happen.”
Seemingly unfazed by my jerk comment, she smiles and nods. “Yeah, of course. I’ll stop by around eight-thirty. Good night, Davis.”
“Good night, Bristol.”
Then, she leaves.
The following day, I wake up before sunrise. Throwing on a pair of athletic shorts and running shoes, I take off down to the beach for my morning run, a practice I adopted not long after the plane crash. For me, it’s not just about the physical anguish, though I do usually run until I can hardly breathe, but it’s the only time I can truly clear my thoughts and think about Emma and the other friends I lost without having a complete mental breakdown.
Today, however, as I sprint across the sand, I find my thoughts continually drifting to Bristol, and it exhilarates and terrifies me all at once. How can this girl who I’ve only known a few days already be affecting me like this? Sure, she’s gorgeous, and yeah, she’s funny, but I’ve met lots of pretty girls with a good sense of humor. Of course, there’s the whole sports and OU connection, which I find myself questioning if it’s simply coincidental or a true twist of fate, but honestly, we’ve talked so very little about this, so it’s not as if we’ve bonded over it.
The only thing I can figure is it’s something to do with being here, in this paradise-like utopia that has my brain fooled into thinking I could possibly think and feel like a normal person . . . kind of like an emotional getaway. Of everyone else here, it only makes sense she and I would hang out and get along, seeing how we’re close in age and have similar interests. Once I return home, I’m sure I’ll quickly revert back into the detached, cynical head-case I became after the accident.
Yeah, that must be it.
THE NEXT COUPLE OF days play out much like the previous ones, only without the romantic, nighttime ride on the sailboat. Davis and I eat breakfast together and then, other than when we’re in sessions, we spend the majority of the day with each other at the beach, where I work on my tan and listen to music while he plays cricket with the locals. Once he’s worked up an appetite, we grab a snack at the bar and then venture out in the water, talking and touching as we search for the brightest fish and coolest shells.
After dinner, sometimes we’ll stay and have a drink with Charlotte, Ashleigh, and some of the others out on the veranda, but we make an escape as soon as possible and head back to one of our cottages, where we take turns pleasuring each other until we’re both so physically exhausted we can barely walk. Then, the other goes back to their place to sleep until the next morning, when we start it all over again. The guilt is still there each morning, but I’m afraid it will be for the rest of my life.
The morning of Day 6, our first full free day with no sessions, I wake up to the steady pitter patter of rain hitting the roof. Grumbling, I roll over and hide my head in my pillow. Of course it would rain today—Davis was going to teach me how to snorkel this morning, and then he’d planned for us to go on an excursion in the afternoon.
My stomach growls after several minutes, reminding me I still have to get up for breakfast. Rain or shine, I need to eat and there isn’t any food in my cottage. Rolling off the mattress, I lumber over to the bathroom to take a quick bath, irritated I can’t use the outdoor shower because of the bad weather.
Once I’m dressed and ready to go, I realize I don’t have an umbrella with me, so I make a mad dash to Davis’ porch, getting drenched in the short run. I tap lightly on the door, and after a few minutes when he still hasn’t answered it, I knock louder. I hear a muffled voice croak out something that sounds like “Come in,” but I’m not completely sure. I give him a little bit longer, but when he still doesn’t appear, I let myself in, not seeing him anywhere.
“Davis?” I call out. “Are you still here?”
“I’m in here,” he replies gruffly, poking his head out of the bathroom. “I’ve been up sick the last few hours; I guess the fish from dinner last night didn’t sit well with my stomach.”
“Oh my, that’s terrible.” I remain close to the door, not wanting to get too close. “Can I get you anything?”
“Yeah, do you mind bringing me some food back? I think I’ve gotten it all out of me, and my stomach feels so empty. I think eating a little might help.”
“Yeah, no problem. I’ll be back in a little bit.” I give him a half-smile, feeling bad he feels so awful. “I’ll let Isaac know too.”
He rests his head against the doorframe. “’Kay, thanks. I’ll wash up and brush my teeth before you get back.”
I let myself out and run the entire way down the now muddy road to the main house, looking like a drowned rat by the time I make it inside. There’s a small group of people standing in the foyer, surrounding the small television at the front desk. They all turn to look at me when I enter, a bit of concern on most of their faces.
“Morning, guys,” I say, making my way over to them. “What’s going on?”
Isaac steps away from the group and motions me to stand next to him, and as I do, alarms go off in my head at an increasingly rapid rate. “Hey, Bristol,” he finally greets me, foregoing the hug due to my saturated state. “We’ve all been watching the weather reports this morning. Some rather disturbing news came in late last night.”
My eyes grow wide as I wait for him to tell me what he means exactly by disturbing news.
“A tropical storm has sprouted up out in the Atlantic over the last twenty-four hours,” he pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose—what I’ve learned is his go-to nervous move, “which is why we’re getting the rain this morning.”
“Are you kidding me?
” I ask, dumbfounded.
“No, I’m not kidding, but there’s also no reason to panic. All of the models have the storm moving north of here, so the only thing we should see from it is some light winds and a couple days of rain.”
My mind is trying desperately to process the words coming out of his mouth, but the words tropical storm are echoing over and over in my head. I can’t believe this is fucking happening.
“Bristol,” he grabs my shoulders, garnering my attention, “I need you to listen to me. You are the only member here whose background is due to a weather-related tragedy. I know it’s not the same thing, but I can only imagine that you’re going to be afraid.”
I stare up at him blankly as the anxiety swells in my chest.
“I can assure you the resort is built for weather like this; they have storms here all the time in the summers. For now, I’m asking everyone to stay in a cottage, maybe you and Davis or Charlotte and Ashleigh can hang out together. Today was supposed to be a free day anyway, and I’m cancelling the sessions for the next couple of days until the weather has cleared up.”
One of the owners approaches us and asks to speak with Isaac for a moment, leaving me standing there dripping all over the floor as I fall apart internally. If the storm doesn’t kill me, the heart attack I’m about to have will definitely do the job.
Isaac steps back over to me. “The staff is going to be bringing around ice chests full of food, drinks, and supplies in just a little while, which should be sufficient for a couple days, just to cover the worst case scenario that the road floods and we have to stay in our cottages for a while. Okay?”