Leigh laughed. "I'm not much better. But we're here now and ready to throw you the best bachelorette party ever. Not to mention the final bridal fitting. My God, Storme, you're getting married. Are you freaking out?"
Even though Leigh was a redhead, she was the calmest out of our crew, ruthlessly organized, and seemed to take life by the balls on her own terms. She was the also the quietest, and many times we had to drag her out and away from her precious Kindle to force her to party. Like Kelsey, she was also struggling with hard times. Her dad and grandfather both had recently been in the hospital, and Leigh struggled to balance being a caretaker along with keeping up her top-notch grades. She always inspired me to dig deeper whenever I felt like I lacked strength.
I pondered her question. Was I freaking out? Phillip and I had been best friends for what seemed like forever, something I rarely questioned. Our parents had pushed us together since we were young. It seemed natural that we'd one day get married. No, I was freaking out about something else entirely. My deep, dark secret I'd kept from my closest friends because I didn't know what to do if it ever got out. Of course, no one else knew except me and Phillip, so I was safe, but my insides still felt ravaged about keeping something locked up without air. What if they knew? Would they beg me to cancel the wedding? Would they question my relationship with Phillip?
It was too late, anyway. Phillip made me feel happy and safe. He was my best friend and someone who understood me. With the decline of profits from Phillip's family vineyard, a merger was needed between our two families, but my parents didn't want to merge the businesses unless we were officially married. And now, with the wedding only two months away, a wedding which had been planned with excruciating detail and lorded over by our parents, it was too late to change my mind. I had no choice. Besides, I wanted to marry Phillip. Right?
I twisted the sapphire ring around my finger. I hadn't wanted the traditional diamond, preferring a more subtle sign of our engagement. Another way to deny the step I was about to take to commit myself to one man for the rest of my life?
I realized my friends were staring at me with concern over my long silence. I cleared my throat and pushed away my doubts. "No, just nervous over the details. It's going to be great." I took a sip of the wine, enjoying the crisp, dry notes of fruit and apricots dancing on my tongue. Then I noticed Leigh swirling her glass without drinking. I frowned. "Do you not like this vintage? I thought it would be one of your faves."
A light blush heated my friend's cheeks. "No, no, I love it. I'm just exhausted from the trip." She took a small sip then gave me a smile, but something still didn't add up.
Kelsey noticed, too. "Don't even think about trying to cancel on the pool party tonight. It's our official kickoff to summer. You're going."
"Don't make me hide your Kindle on the first night," I warned. "You need to relax. Get laid. Get your groove on."
Leigh rolled her eyes. "I'm going! But like I already told you, I'm here for the sun and the sand, not the parties."
"Add some sex in there, and you nailed a perfect trifecta," Kelsey added.
"The run-in I had at the restaurant where I stopped for dinner has put me off all men for the time being. How about we focus on you and your hot lifeguard fantasy instead of getting me laid, Kels?"
I giggled and stretched my legs out on the Adirondack chair. "She may already be working on that fantasy with the 'Hampton Hottie.'"
Leigh leaned forward. "Already? You work fast, girlfriend."
"Yeah, we met while I was getting Storme tampons. It was a real bonding moment."
I groaned. "So embarrassing. At least there's the possibility of me suffering for the greater good. He may be at the pool party tonight."
"I think this calls for a toast," Leigh announced. We held up our glasses and clinked the rims together. "To friendship."
"To getting Leigh laid," Kelsey added.
"I'll drink to that," I said, taking another sip and sighing in pleasure.
"Hey, wait a minute!"
"And to Kelsey fulfilling her lifeguard fantasy," I said, interrupting Leigh's protest.
"I'm all over that," Kelsey said.
"And to Storme having the perfect wedding," Leigh said, holding up her glass.
I ignored the nervous tension in my belly and chalked it up to pre-wedding jitters. Trying not to get choked up, I sniffed and looked at my besties. "Love you guys. Now, let's get ready for the party. I made you something special."
We all went upstairs to change, and I donned the new black bikini I'd designed, along with a bright lace crochet cover-up that slipped off one shoulder.
My girls whooped when I sashayed out of the bathroom, laughing as I did a spin. I had sewn crystals into trim of the cups and bottom, and created a criss-cross effect with a set of double straps. "That suit is hot! Is this your new design?" Leigh asked.
"Yeah, I wanted to do something classic with a twist. You like?"
"Can you make one for me in white?" Kelsey asked. "It's amazing."
"I already did. Your presents." I handed Kelsey a white one. She loved the clean, no-nonsense look, and gave Leigh a brightly colored one that would offset her gorgeous hair. "And I made you each a cover-up to wear over the top." They squealed with excitement and put them on. Pleasure cut through me as I saw my designs being worn and enjoyed. I always wished I'd felt the same way about making wine, but nothing compared to the satisfaction of design.
"Tell me again why you're not going to the Fashion Institute?" Kelsey asked.
I ducked my head, shoving a sweater and towels into my beach bag. "It's just a hobby," I said, even though it hurt. I had been designing clothes since I was young, but was taught early on it could only be a fun hobby. Fashion design was frowned upon in my parents' eyes, and the vineyard needed me to take the reins with Phillip. Still, my dream had always been to get accepted into FIT, so I'd secretly applied and received full admission. Kelsey and Leigh went crazy with excitement, but I decided to keep it quiet. I couldn't leave the vineyard and Phillip at this point. It would have to be enough for me to have gotten in, my talent validated. Though I still hadn't told them I wasn't going. FIT believed I'd start in the fall.
My friends shook their heads, knowing it meant more to me than a hobby, but let me lie anyway.
After all, that's what friends were for.
***
Two nights later, I met HIM again.
There was a big bonfire down at the beach to kick off the official summer season, and we all planned to go. Leigh tried to beg off by claiming she needed sleep more than another party, but Kelsey and I double-teamed her, and we headed down to the beach.
The party was already in full swing, and the evening was hot and humid. I raced my friends to the water then dove underneath a wave, loving the cold fury of the ocean, the roughness of sand on my feet, the sharp scent of salt in my nostrils. I was a beach girl at heart, always had been, and though I wasn't on the volleyball team like Kelsey and Leigh, swimming was one of my athletic pleasures.
I stayed in the water a long time after my friends had left, finally heading back when my fingers began to prune and my muscles quivered from fighting the waves. I squeezed the excess water from my hair, smiling with contentment, and turned toward the bonfire.
"Hadn't pegged you for a swimmer. Figured you'd be too stressed about ruining your hair."
I froze. Goosebumps broke out on my skin at the sound of that growly voice. He sat on the sand to my right. Holy Mother of God, he was more than sex on a stick. This guy was orgasms incarnate.
He'd replaced the jeans with a pair of shredded, cutoff denim shorts. His long, powerful legs were dusted with dark hair, crossed at the ankles in a lazy position that contradicted the seductive intent in his field-green eyes. A worn T-shirt stretched across his broad chest, accentuating cut muscles that would be the envy of any lifeguard or fitness trainer. Black hair blew in the summer wind, dragging the silky-looking strands over his brows. Tapered fingers held a red plastic
Solo cup. But it was his gaze that undid me, a banked, hungry look as he took in every inch of my exposed body, from my face, moving to my breasts, over my stomach, then lingering at the junction of my thighs. The sweep over my legs and feet felt like an actual caress, or was that just the wind?
My nipples immediately tightened, pushing against the flimsy scrap of material in an attempt to be free. Free for his hot mouth and decadent tongue to lick and suck and bite. I curled my fingers into fists, wishing I had my cover-up to hide and pretend this need inside me didn't exist. But it did.
And he knew it.
I remained silent, still fighting my reaction, and those delicious lips curved upward in an amused half-grin. "Never pegged you for the silent type, either."
The bubble broke, and I snapped back to my senses. Plus, my temper. "Maybe I don't have much to say to you," I said. "Stalking me, motorcycle man?"
"Don't flatter yourself, convertible girl. We'll probably be running into each other a lot this summer. East Hampton isn't a big place." He tipped his cup, which was probably filled with beer, then took a long swallow. The muscles of his throat worked, and I imagined how that talented mouth would feel sucking on my clit. A shudder wracked me. "Might as well give me your name."
I rolled my eyes at his obvious ploy and pretended indifference. I may not have dated much, but I sensed his attraction. Still, I wanted to know his name, too. "Storme," I finally said. "My name is Storme Sullivan."
His eyes widened a fraction before he laughed out loud. "Priceless."
"What's so funny?" I asked tightly.
"Your name seems like a perfect fit. Bet you cause a Storme wherever you go, sugar."
Oh, he was spoiling for a fight, and I was ready to give it to him. What was up between us? He was a complete stranger, but I was both attracted and pissed off at him! "Forget it. Keep your name. I won't be needing to use it, anyway." I intended to march off with my nose stuck in the air, but his voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Holden. Holden Fox. And something tells me you'll be using my name a lot."
His cocky tone made my mouth drop open. I tried not to fume at his all-consuming arrogance. "Sure of yourself, huh? Well, let me tell you something, Holden. I know your type and for damn sure won't be using your name in any capacity."
He stretched and grinned up at me. "Oh, yeah? What do you think you know about me?"
I cocked my hip and his eyes heated, caressing my bare curves. Damn bathing suit. I needed a one-piece meshed in steel to deal with this man. Pretending not to be affected, I rattled off my list. "You're a beach bum. Probably taking advantage of one of your friends to spend the summer hanging out, getting laid, and partying. You think you're a badass on that bike of yours, smarter than anyone else, and feel like you're doing a favor for every woman you deign to pick up. The term 'relationship' makes you break out in hives. You don't have a steady job this summer, and don't really care. How am I doing so far?"
Why did he look so delighted with my words, and so delicious? It was almost as if he was getting off on our dialogue. Had he been with too many women who just dropped into his bed, grateful for the attention? "Not bad," he drawled. "Not bad at all. You forgot one thing, though."
"College dropout?" I asked sweetly.
"Nope." His eyes glittered with raw lust. "Every woman who spends the night with me knows I'm doing her a favor. They give me a number, and I fulfill it."
Heat bloomed and trickled into my veins, spreading a drugged warmth. I shouldn't ask. I should walk away from this intimate conversation and never see him again. Yet, I stayed. And uttered the question. "What number?"
He rolled to his feet with an animal grace that made a moan tug from my throat. As he stood a few inches from me, his body heat struck me in waves as if pure energy pulsed between us, forcing us closer. "The number of orgasms she wants," he finally said. Another step. I shuddered, my feet stuck to the sand, my heart beating wildly in my chest, helpless to stop the pull and burn of electricity. "You give me your number, sugar, and I'll make sure you reach it."
My lips parted. My breath came out in low, choppy pants. It was the tiny glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes that finally helped me break out of my trance. He was too damn arrogant and took women for granted. I took a step back and forced a mocking smile. "You couldn't come near my number, motorcycle man," I purred. "Another thing I know about you. All talk and little action."
His voice dropped to a growl. "Is that a challenge?"
"Just a fact. I'm not up to being a bedpost number to you or anyone else. Nice try, though." My legs shook as I walked away, determined to put a large amount of distance between us, afraid if I'd stayed one more second I'd let him do very, very bad things to me, without a thought to my fiancee or the regrets I'd have in the morning.
"You didn't let me have my turn," he called out after me.
I tossed my wet hair over my shoulder and looked back. "Give me your best shot, then," I said. I needed to be strong and pretend he didn't affect me.
His teeth flashed in a gleam of white. He made no move this time to get closer. "Only daughter of parents who are filthy rich. Grew up with privilege. Fancy cars, clothes, money. A bit of a brat, a wicked temper, and a drama queen. Kept her virginity until she was older, preferring to lord it over the male species and become an expert tease. No dreams of her own because her future entails working for her parents' big business, marrying some guy they approve of, and settling in to breed a group of brats only to repeat the whole cycle again in the next generation."
The words were like poisoned darts, but I refused to even flinch. Too many of his assumptions were true. Perhaps that hurt the most of all. "Close. But you forgot one thing."
"Beauty school dropout?" he asked.
I bared my teeth and took my hit. "No. There's no teasing when I decide I want to sleep with someone." I licked my lips deliberately and gave him a full-on, pouty, I-want-to-do-you-right-now look. "I like a ride harder and faster than you or your motorcycle can ever give. Sugar. Have a good night."
I fought desperately to keep steady as I made my way back to the bonfire and my friends, feeling his stare pinned to my body, the naked lust flicking like a whip, trying to drag me back to him.
My hands shook as I warmed myself by the fire. The shouts and laughter and revelry faded to the background. Holden was dangerous. He made me want things I couldn't have, shouldn't even be thinking about...with anyone but my fiance. I should have just told him I was engaged. He'd probably back off then. Or was it the amazing surge of feeling alive and wanted that lit me up? The way he looked at me as if he intended to devour me whole and lick his chops afterward?
Yes. Dangerous. I'd never felt like that with any man before, especially not Phillip, and I had a feeling just a taste would ruin me forever.
I needed to keep my distance from Holden Fox.
Chapter Four
HOLDEN
I WAS GOING TO FUCK HER.
The knowledge roared through my body like some kind of primitive war cry. I was so hard I had to squeeze my eyes and think of abandoned puppies to get my erection under control, and I knew if I saw her again my cock would go right back to full-staff.
This one wasn't boring. I'd been wrong. Her sharp wit echoed in her eyes, a gleam of intelligence that surprised the hell out of me. Her last remark almost dropped me to my damn knees. Oh, I knew I'd been right on the other counts. She was a spoiled princess with her life mapped out. Lounging with no cares for the summer except her tan.
I decided it was actually perfect. The zing of challenge warmed my blood. She was going to make me work for it, and damned if that wasn't sexy as hell. Her mouthiness turned me on and made me think of fun ways to keep that mouth occupied. The chemistry was intense and there was no way I was walking away this summer without feeling those silky thighs clasped around my hips, or biting that lush lower lip until my name broke from her, begging me for her orgasm.
I liked that she thought I was a beach bum with no prospe
cts. Better for both of us to keep our illusions and the game pure. Less complications that way, especially for a summer affair. Now it was just a matter of how to seduce her.
Anticipation punched my gut. I needed to know more about her first, where she hung out, where she lived. I finally found Brian down at the beach with a bunch of surfer dudes who already looked high. "I found her," I said to Brian.
He slapped me on the shoulder. "Told ya, man. What's her name?"
"Storme Sullivan. Know her?"
Brian whistled. "Hell, yeah. Her parents own Drink It In Style Vineyards out past Stony Brook. They've been spending the summer here for years. She usually hangs out on the beach, and likes that place Cabanas. Has lived in a big-ass estate in Wainscott. That beach road over there," he pointed, "connects straight to her place, so it's walkable."
I nodded. So far, all my assumptions had been right on. I couldn't imagine owning a vineyard and a million-dollar home to hang out in. I let out a half-laugh. Must be nice not to have to worry about anything or your future. "Thanks. I'll catch you later."
"Making your move?" Brian called out.
I shot him a grin. "Soon." He laughed, and I trudged across the beach. The music was louder, and people began to pair off, dancing under the half-moon, making out, drinking. I kept Storme in my peripheral vision, but stayed out of her immediate crowd. She seemed to hang with two specific girls who were probably staying at her place. A pretty redhead and a tall blonde. The perfect trilogy of male fantasies, yet my gaze was only focused on Storme.
For the next few hours, she drank wine out of a Solo cup, danced with her girlfriends, and seemed to get along with everyone. She had an open personality and a booming laugh I enjoyed hearing. As I gathered intel and hung out, I noticed her friend hooking up with a guy in his lifeguard uniform, and the other one walking away, her cell phone tucked to her ear.