Honeymooning With the Enemy, page 16
I downturn my lips, nodding. “Refreshing. So when you get home, what happens then?”
“I don’t know.” She screws up her face. “I guess I’d want my days to be spent doing something I was good at, but also being creative…” She pulls at a nearby branch, breaking off a twig with leaves attached. “I’d have my own business, where I sold my art and accessories, and everyone would appreciate my work because it was good for the planet, as well as being beautiful.” Her lips pull into a smile. “I would have a gorgeous house; nothing insane, just something pretty with lots of windows to let in the sunlight. I’d have a workstation where I’d sit with my beads and fabrics and I’d spend all day creating and drinking coffee and listening to podcasts about other people being creative and drinking coffee, and then in the afternoon I’d go outside for some fresh air. I’d have a big backyard with shady trees for hot days, and a vegetable patch where I’d grow tomatoes and strawberries and herbs… where I’d be able to bury my hands in the earth—not just be outside, but feel the soil between my fingers…”
She gazes up at the sky, but her eyes look far away. “I’d spend my weekends doing day trips and exploring, going to beaches or discovering cute little cafes. I’d walk around art galleries where I’d know the artists by name, because I’d be a part of the same community. Of a night I’d go home and feel totally at peace in my own space, with my cute dog, and a home cooked meal. And each day would just get better and better, because I’d wake up every morning next to—”
She cuts herself off, blinking a couple of times and smiling at the ground. “Next to the person I love, I guess.”
I’m lost for words as she finishes. I’d hoped she would play the game with me, but I never expected such a painting. Not that I should be surprised; Storm’s mind is extraordinary.
“Well fuck,” I say. “Your dream life is way better than mine.”
She laughs. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah… except I suck at crafts and I’ve never grown a tomato in my life. But maybe I could learn.”
She swivels around to face me. “What does your dream life look like?”
I smile, staring into her face. A few extra freckles have taken up residence on her nose since we’ve been away. I want to kiss them.
“Soon,” I tell her. “First, I hear the café at the bottom of the track has the best banana smoothies on the islands.”
Down on the shore, we stumble upon a secluded cove. A few other people dot the sand, but enormous boulders lie in the shallows of the ocean, providing pockets of privacy. We ditch our shoes and clothes on the beach and run into the turquoise water. Even though it’s only about four-foot-deep where we are, I submerge my whole body, washing away the sweat of our hike.
“Is there anything better than a swim in the ocean after exercising?” I say, running my hands over my hair. I glimpse Storm staring and suppress a grin.
“Um, a swim in the ocean after not exercising?” Storm offers.
“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you don’t feel better knowing we’ve been on a hike.”
Storm lowers herself under the surface, arms stretched wide as she breaststrokes. “Okay, fine. I do feel pretty satisfied.”
I get a random flash of last night in my head… of Storm’s face as I rubbed her… and blink it away before I get a hard-on. But the present moment image of Storm in a little orange bikini isn’t helping in the erection department either.
After a few minutes, we sit on the sand, the water lapping against our toes. The boulders still provide a nice wall from everyone else, giving the elusion we have the cove completely to ourselves.
She stares out at the ocean, arms wrapped around her bent knees.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“Do you ever feel like you’re living somebody else’s life?”
I inhale sharply. For such a casually delivered comment, it hits me somewhere deep in my subconscious.
I lean back on my elbow, drawing lines in the sand. “All the damn time.”
“Sometimes I look at my life… at what I’m doing, and what I want… and I wonder who it’s all for.”
I squint up at her, her gaze still on the ocean. “So why don’t you do something for you?”
She smiles tightly. “If only it were that easy.” Angled against the sand, she lies back, propped on her elbows, like she’s on an invisible sun lounger. “You never told me what your dream life looks like.”
I sniff a laugh, almost regretting I ever brought it up. “Probably because I don’t know what it looks like.”
She pulls a face. “Come on. You must have some idea of what you want.”
I look up and she’s staring down at me, her eyes sparkling. The crystal-clear waters have nothing on her green irises. “I have some idea.”
Leaning over, I press my lips to hers. Salty, sweet from banana smoothie, and soft. We keep kissing until Storm falls onto her back and I’m climbing over her.
“Someone will see,” she giggles into my mouth.
I move my lips down to her neck. “Don’t worry, the rocks block us from view,” I say in-between kisses. When I reach her collarbones, I have an insanely arousing thought and tilt my head to face her.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
She just nods.
“I want to taste you.”
Her chest rises, a glint flickering across her eyes. “Now? Here?”
“I can’t wait.” I slide my hand down her body until my fingers rest between her legs. She gasps as I rub gently, reminding her of the fun we had last night.
“I want you, too,” she whispers.
“And I want to give myself to you,” I murmur, kissing in-between her breasts. “Any day.” Kiss. “Any time.” Kiss. “Whenever you want.”
I move over her stomach, my hand still massaging over her bikini bottoms. My lips trail over her navel, working down until I’m hovering over her pelvis. “But first, I have to know what you taste like. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Storm’s eyes flick over the rocks, checking for spectators. But when she sees I was telling the truth—the coast is clear—she looks back down at me, and nods.
Fuck yes.
I move down the sand to between her thighs and start kissing along her smooth skin. The waves lap around my legs, and as I look down at the tiny piece of fabric around her hips, I know I’m about to unlock some deep-seated fantasy.
I move my face across the fabric, kissing and pulling at it with my lips. Sliding my finger underneath, I shift the bikini to the side. “Tell me how this feels.”
I stoop my head, kissing her again.
A tiny whimper escapes her throat. “It feels good.”
“Yeah? How about… this…”
I slide my tongue through the slit, starting at the bottom and working to the top.
She moans.
I grin, sliding my hands around her hips to get the leverage I need, and then I go to work. Flicking my tongue over her, she lets out another soft moan, and I feel myself swell. Jesus, keeping a clear head isn’t going to be easy. I hold her in place, using my tongue to trace circles over, and over, and over again. Her legs come up beside me, heels digging into the sand as she tenses.
“Fuck… Tanner…”
I break for air. “Say it again.”
“What?”
“Say my name again.”
She grins, biting down on her lip. “Keep going, Tanner.”
I groan, stooping down and devouring her. She cries out, slapping her own hand over her mouth, clawing my head with the other. I’m so consumed in this newfound nirvana that I’m shocked when she starts trembling, just before her legs go stiff beside me.
“Tanner,” she cries out again, and I keep working on her as she pulls my hair. “Tanner!”
Her body lurches upright as she moans. I angle myself to watch her as she comes, getting harder at the O shape of her lips. As her moans fade out into satisfied sighs, I ease up on the pressure, before sliding her bikini back over and hovering above her.
“That was incredible,” I say, though I’m sure she can already tell from the bulge pressing against her.
She laughs and pants at the same time, her mouth open in delight.
“You’re telling me.”
21
Storm
After lunch, we join the line to board the Caribbean Gem for the last time. I don’t want to leave Tortola. I want to stay here forever, exploring nature and making more… fond memories.
My knees buckle at the mental image of Tanner’s head between my thighs, my back pressed into the sand…
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I keep my hand securely wrapped around his bicep and smile up at him. “Never better.”
“I could get used to that.”
“To what?”
He reaches over and brushes my hair back. I’ve barely looked at it in days; it’s been nice not to touch a curling iron.
“To that look on your face.” His fingers trail my jaw and I get yet another shiver down my spine. What is that, eight hundred now?
“If you want to keep it there, I have a few ideas about what you could do.” I flick my eyelashes flirtatiously—at least I hope it’s flirtatious. I haven’t done this with a man in forever; flirted. The last time was when Bianca plied me with gin and tonics and insisted that I make out with the bearded guy in the corner of the bar.
Guilt niggles at my insides when I remember I still haven’t called or texted her back.
“In that case…” Tanner pulls me closer, kissing the top of my head. “We should be getting back to our suite.”
I board the ship with a stupid goofy grin on my face, and it stays there while we zigzag back to our sleeping quarters. But we soon realize that if we go back to the room now, there’s a good chance we aren’t coming back out for quite a while, and we need sustenance.
Opting to stay in our island clothes, we hit the bar for afternoon cocktails and snacks. Today it’s the Topsiders Bar & Grill, which is next to the outdoor pool. We order Mai Tais and cheesy fries and dangle our legs into the water, watching a group of guys around our age play fight in the pool.
“I can’t believe the next time we’re on land it will be New York,” I say, moving the tiny umbrella aside so I can sip my drink. It’s delicious, but I still feel a sense of gloom in my stomach.
“Let’s not talk about it.” Tanner stoops his head, staring at his feet beneath the water.
“What are you going to do?” I ask. “When we get back.”
He laughs without humor. “An excellent question.”
We watch the guys goof around, throwing a ball across the pool and diving all over each other to get it first.
“The thing is, I still love the game. I can’t imagine my life without football in it,” he goes on. “It’s just that I don’t want to play anymore. And I don’t know… there’s so much about it I don’t agree with.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the whole culture. It can be so great for morale, camaraderie… making friends and learning about being part of a team. But then there’s the other stuff.” His eyes meet mine, and I’m surprised to see discomfort behind them. “Like what happened with you.”
I flinch at the mention of it, assuming he’s talking about the photo.
“The guys never should’ve taken my phone, gone into it without permission, shared what they found in there…” His jaw tenses. “And that shit never would’ve happened if they didn’t have such a toxic fucking attitude.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but not all football players are like Ashton Sommers,” I say.
“No, I know. I just wish there was more done to snuff out that kind of shit while guys are younger. I hate what they did to you… how they ran with that fucking nickname…”
An unexpected shiver runs up my arms, but not the good kind. Maybe I’ve moved past Tanner making up that stupid name, but it doesn’t mean I don’t still feel the sting.
I’d rather just not think about it.
I clear my throat. “Well, maybe there is something you can do about it.”
He turns to me with his brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”
“I don’t know… maybe you could work with the NFL in another way, helping with policies, spreading awareness, working with young people, that sort of thing?”
He nods like he’s deep in thought, the creases still in his forehead.
“Anyway, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’re talented and smart, and you’re bound to find another career path, even if it’s not on the football field.”
Craning his neck to face me, that cheeky smile appears on his face. “Thanks, Fernberg.”
“Anytime, Thorn.”
He chuckles, flicking water at me with his foot.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” I say, flicking him back.
“Oh, I’m very confident I can finish it.”
He sweeps a wave of pool water against me and it crashes over my lap. I gasp, holding my hands in the air with my mouth open.
“You’re a dead man.”
Using my whole body weight, I lurch against him, knocking him off balance. He falls into the pool, leaving me to cackle like an evil witch on the side.
“Oh boy.” He laughs, brushing his wet hair off his face. “You asked for it.”
I squeal as he comes for me, grabbing me by the wrist and tossing me over his shoulder.
“Put me down!” I shriek, laughing and thrashing my legs around.
“As you wish.”
He pushes me off his shoulders so I land in the water with a big splash, the kind of trick kids would love. But instead I emerge, hair covering my face like a creepy little girl in a horror movie.
I can hear Tanner chuckling a few feet away. “Sexy.”
Ducking under, I glide through the water until my hair is trailing behind me and come back up for air, more graciously this time. When I open my eyes, Tanner is right there.
I run my hands over my hair, pressing the water out, and he just stares.
“What was it you said about sexy?” I say, tilting my head to the side and wrapping my arms around his neck. He growls quietly, holding me by the waist.
“Fine, you win.”
I smile smugly.
As our lips meet, I wrap my legs around his waist. Within seconds, the blood is pumping hot through my entire body and I desperately need all these people to disappear. Our tongues don’t hold back, our hands frantic. Jesus, I need this man inside me.
The second the thought enters my head, I break away.
“Bedroom?” I whisper.
His eyes go dark. “After you.”
There’s an electric energy passing between us as we hurry back to the suite. Every few steps, our eyes meet, and I can’t help beaming. Is this what giddy feels like? I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I like it.
Just as Tanner opens the door, my phone vibrates in my palm. Bianca’s name lights up the screen.
I pause, staring down at it, the good feeling extinguished like the flame of a birthday candle. Now? She has to call now?
“Everything alright?” Tanner asks, realizing I’m no longer trailing behind him.
“It’s fine,” I say, wiggling my phone. “But I should probably take this.”
“I’ll be waiting when you’re done.” He winks at me before he disappears into the suite, a gesture that has my lady parts tingling. I wish there was no waiting, but I can’t keep ignoring my best friend. She’s going to worry, or at the very least, know something’s up.
I inhale deeply, bringing the phone to my ear.
“Hey.”
“What the fucking fuck?” she says by way of a greeting.
I walk along the deck, facing the ocean. “I know. I’ve been a little hard to reach.”
“Hard to reach? I was about to send out a fucking search party! Why haven’t you texted me back?”
Because I’ve been preoccupied with Tanner’s tongue on my clitoris.
“It’s just been a busy few days,” I say.
She’s quiet on the other end.
“Are you still there?”
“Something’s going on between you two.”
The way she says it, it’s not a question.
“There is nothing going on between me and Tanner.”
The second the lie comes out of my mouth, my chest sinks. Having my first sexual encounter is meant to be thrilling, partly because of the great debriefs you’re meant to have with your best friend after. But how can I tell Bianca about this? We’ve spent the last ten years hating Tanner and his jerk friends.
“Then why have you gone MIA on me?” she demands.
I bite my lip, flipping through excuses in my head. “The Wi-Fi on the ship is really patchy,” I say. “And it costs a fortune to use my own data.”
She sighs with exasperation, and I can almost see the pinched little stressed face she wears when something’s bugging her. “I don’t know what’s going on with you. One minute you’re normal, and the next you’re making up fake husbands and sailing off on a cruise with a guy from our high school who you hate, and not returning my calls.”
“You make it sound like I’m having a nervous breakdown or something.”
“Well, are you?”
I press my eyebrows down, my mind’s eye playing the events of the last couple of weeks in my head. Okay, so maybe I am acting crazy. I certainly don’t feel like the same grouchy girl, dragging myself into work every day and trying to avoid people. But… I’m having trouble thinking that’s a bad thing.
“It’s been good for me to get away,” I say, the first honest thing to come out of my mouth. “It was feeling a bit same-same in New York. A bit…. stuck.”
Bianca scoffs. “You can’t feel stuck in New York. It’s the liveliest city in the world.”
