A Fine Mess (Over the Top) (13 page)

Sawyer makes it halfway down the hall before he presses my back into the wall, my legs clasped around his waist. He claims my lips and rolls his hips to the rhythm of our kiss. Slow. Deep.
Firm.
I’m soaked, wet and ready for him. I bet he feels it through his cotton shorts. The thought should embarrass me, but I’m so lost to him, there’s no room for insecurity.

“Bed,” I mumble against his lips as my pulse beats between my thighs.

He pauses, his forehead pressed to mine, eyes closed, hips still. I want to see into his mind. Know what he’s thinking. Feel what he’s feeling. Be a superhero like he imagines. Then he grunts and carries me to our room. He kneels on the bed, lowering me while kissing me into oblivion. He rolls his hips again, and again. I rock with him.

Ebb and flow. Push and pull. Falling without landing.

My dress is at my waist, and he reaches down to touch me. He doesn’t move my underwear aside, just slides his fingers over it. “Jesus, you’re wet.” He pushes onto his knees and looks at me, fingers still exploring, lightly teasing. “You don’t know how hot this is. How fucking hot you are.”

The ridge of his cock stretches his shorts, a dark stain over his zipper from my arousal. “I want us naked,” I say. “Now. I can’t wait.”

His eyelids fall to half-mast. “You won’t get an argument from me. But we take this slow. I need to savor you.”

The promise sends a new wave of heat through me.

He grabs his T-shirt by the back of his neck and yanks it over his head, leaving his sandy hair a shaggy mess. I itch to rake my fingers through it, drag my hands all over him. The sides of his neck, the roped muscles of his arms and chest, the ridges of his abs. He pushes off the bed and drops his shorts and boxers.

God, he’s beautiful. Big. Hard. If I was wet before, I’m drenched now. I waste no time wiggling out of my dress.

As I reach for my bra, he says, “That’s my job.”

With a wolfish grin, he takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. He tosses my hairband on the floor and tugs out my bun. My hair tumbles down my back, the small brush against my skin electric. My whole body is charged, every inch infused with desire. Gone are my inhibitions, vanished is the girl who buys and covets. Tonight I’m lust and love and sex, Sawyer the conductor to my symphony.

I work my hands up his neck, pulling at his hair as I guide his lips toward mine. Our tongues brush and twirl, his hands spanning the width of my lower back as we press into each other, his erection grinding against my belly. It’s not close enough. I want him inside me, filling me up. He flicks the clasp of my bra, the fabric trapped between us until he pulls away and it pools at our feet. He stares. And stares. Then he licks his lips, so freaking sexy, and hooks his thumbs through the sides of my lace underwear, and drags it down.

He kneels as his hands travel back up, charting a course around my legs and over my ass. Big hands. Masculine. Sawyer, the man I’ve fantasized about forever, is with me, naked, wanting to please me. Does he know I love him? Can he sense it in my trembling limbs? The cuts from his fish bite scrape my skin as he squeezes my soft flesh and kisses my birthmark, so tender, so close to where I’m aching for him. I let my hands roam, too, through the top of his disheveled hair, over the clipped sides, kneading the muscles down his neck and upper back, pulling him closer, a groan slipping past my lips.

And my pulse stutters.

I’ll never be able to go backward from this, revert to our being friends and coworkers. We haven’t even had sex yet, but I
know
. If we don’t work out, I’ll lose him from my life, and it will wreck me.

But I’m done playing it safe.

The air conditioning blows from the wall unit, blasts of cool air that shock my tight nipples. When his hands circle the peaks, I grip his shoulders. I’m near my limit, my body ready to ignite. Still on his knees, he pushes me back onto the bed and hikes my legs over his shoulders. Oh, dear God.

He caresses my breasts as he lowers his head between my thighs, and I dig my heels into his back. “I’m so close. I want you inside me.”

He looks up, heat and lust and something I can’t place in his eyes. “This is round one. Trust me, I’ll be so deep inside you, neither of us will be able to breathe.”

I almost fall apart right then. “But I’ve never had more than one orgasm, and I want to feel you when it happens.”

A wicked grin lights his face. “You’ll break that record with me, babe. Lie back.”

His promise is like gasoline on a fire.

Palming my backside, he lifts my hips, his mouth on me in seconds. He flicks his tongue so quickly I nearly fly off the mattress. I go from wet to liquid, unabashed at how aroused I am, his tongue darting over me and in me, his hands squeezing my ass tighter, my heels scraping his lats. It doesn’t take long.

I melt. I fall apart. I shout, “God, Sawyer,
yes
,” as I writhe against his mouth, biting my cheek to stop from confessing the depths of my feelings, the rush of emotion as intense as my orgasm.

Slowly, he eases me into the center of the mattress, crawling over me, but not touching. “Watching you is so damn sexy.” He lowers his hips and glides his erection through my wetness, not in me but over me, the tip rubbing against my most sensitive spot. I press my hand over his length, and he shudders with a gravelly “Christ.”

“You’re so hard. I love touching you.” Silk-wrapped steel.

“You feel so fucking good.”

We rock like this, both of us watching his cock move over me, slick with my arousal, my hand pressing him down, my mouth parched from all I haven’t said. He leans forward and takes my breast in his mouth, nipping and licking my nipple with fervor.

Then his cock slips lower. The tip sinks inside me, just an inch. He pushes up, and the veins on his neck strain. He closes his eyes. His arms flex. I want to move so badly, feel him flush against me, but he’s bare and we haven’t had the Talk yet. He knows it, too. He rotates his hips but doesn’t push in farther. I’m feverish for him. Burning from the inside out, throbbing with need. There’s no doubt I’ll experience multiple orgasms tonight.

Another first with Sawyer.

He presses in a fraction deeper. “I…,” he says, and stops. “You’re just so…”

“So are you,” I say. So
everything
. I try to swallow, but my throat thickens with unspoken words.

With a grunt, he pulls out and sits on his heels as he reaches for his nightstand drawer. He tears the silver packet with his teeth and rolls on the condom, then he positions himself against me, fluid in his movements. A breath later, he pushes in.

I gasp at the sensation. He’s big, thick. It takes a moment to adjust.

“Okay?” he asks.

I bend my knees and tilt my hips to give him entry. He thrusts harder, once, twice, then we’re flush. “Perfect.”

Too perfect. The moment catches in my chest, squeezing until heat stings behind my eyes. He leans over me, and his hair flops forward, his hips tight to mine. His breath flows through me as we kiss. Flawless. Sublime. Pure joy. Finally, he pulls out and glides back in, still kissing. I capture his bottom lip between my teeth, and he groans.

“Mine,” he says as he sucks a path down my neck, his hips rolling. “You’re so fucking mine,” he says again.

I am so his.

I match his rhythm, the sheets shifting below me. In and out, he drags his length through me, the friction building. I latch my ankles around his back, forcing him deeper.

He kisses my cheek, his ragged breath brushing my skin, and I realize I’m crying. He swallows my tears, my heart. He takes everything. I circle my hips into him, my nails clutching his shoulders. Faster. Rougher. Deeper. Time dissolves with each thrust. Then he moves his hand between us, pushing me over the edge. We lock eyes as I call his name and grip his arms and tears slip down my cheeks as I think the things I’m too scared to say.

I’m not sure if I black out. The room is hazy, my body tingling and tender, and he’s still hard as steel inside me. His lust-filled face comes into focus, and I frown. “You didn’t finish?”

He shakes his head, sweat beading on his brow. “I told you, I want to take this slow. I’m not done with you yet.” He wipes my cheeks with his thumbs, our hips connected.

I reach up and press two fingers against his bottom lip, touching, stroking. He restarts his rhythm, slow, deliberate, while sucking my fingers. I envy his position. To be able to watch so clearly where we’re joined, our movement together.

Suddenly, he pulls out of me and flips me over. “What do you say we try for number three?” he growls in my ear.

I may never walk again.

He lifts my ass in the air and pushes in harder, rocking me forward, then he covers my body with his. His mouth is at my ear, one hand free to touch me, rub me, the other hooked under my shoulder, anchoring me to him. Each thrust shakes the bed, his weight crushing. I used to think this position was impersonal, a way to get off without connection.

I’ve never felt so consumed.

Every inch of our bodies is flush, his hard chest fused to my back. “So good,” he pants in my ear.

Sweat slicks our skins, his fingers rubbing between my thighs, and the edge of my third orgasm takes shape. My calves burn. My toes curl. I slam into him harder, needing more. Everything. “Oh, God,” I cry as the wave crashes over me. Light dances behind my eyes, my arms shaking with effort.

Oh, God, indeed.

Sawyer removes his hand and wraps his arm tighter around me, burying his face in my neck. He speeds up, his full length driving in and out of me. Then he spasms, his words exploding in short pants. “Fuck.
Lily.
Fuck.
Yes.
” He collapses on top of me, my body pinned to the mattress.

He pushes his nose through my hair, and brushes his lips over my ear. “You’re incredible.”

I try to speak, but can’t access enough air to speak. “Heavy,” I manage.

“Shit.” He pushes off me and pulls out. The sudden loss of him sends an ache through my core. “I’ll be right back,” he says.

While he’s in the bathroom dealing with the condom, I nestle under the sheets and take a mental inventory of my body: legs intact, arms attached, heat still pulsing between my thighs. My heart feels too big for my chest, filled with Sawyer. A week ago, I was shopping, hoping to crowd out the pain of his silence. Two days ago, I was drowning in my loneliness. Now there’s only peace. And a postsex high.

A three-orgasm postsex high.

He exits the bathroom and stops before getting into bed. I’ll never tire of seeing him naked, soaking in the deep V of his hips. “Ready for another round?” he asks. My shock must be apparent on my face. He laughs. “Kidding. I’ll give you at least an hour.”

He turns off the lights and slips under the covers, shifting close, our noses almost touching as he slides his thick thigh between mine. He brushes my hair from my face, his palm coming to rest on my neck. “That was insane. I mean, I’ve imagined it. A lot. But the real thing? It was intense.”

I wrap my arm over his waist. “I can’t believe I came three times.” My cheeks heat at the admission, as though he didn’t witness me falling apart.

“I promised I’d take you there,” Sawyer says. “I always keep my promises.” He drops his gaze and licks his lips, then meets my eyes. “I also promise I won’t hurt you. This relationship thing is new to me. I might mess up here and there. But I won’t hurt you. I’ll always be honest with you.”

“I know,” I whisper.

But his tone is tight, as though he’s convincing himself as much as me. Still, we kiss, the promise sealed, then he flips me over, spooning me against his chest. With soft strokes, I glide my fingers over his arm, his vow weighing on me. I may have opened up about my grandmother earlier, but it was just a glimpse into my world. I didn’t mention how her death spurred my need to shop. That I bought the farm shortly afterward so I could keep her things instead of donating them as my mother asked.

My compulsions come in waves, often triggered by sadness and distress. I didn’t feel the urge once today, but if it returns, if the cycle repeats, I’m not sure how I’ll hide it from him. With Kevin it was easy. He never questioned my time away. A friend from design school has a loft downtown, and I’d tell Kevin I needed quiet time there to produce work. One day. Two. Three. He’d smile and wish me well. I’d disappear up north and visit the farm instead.

My lies won’t work with Sawyer, not with how he reads me, and it wouldn’t be fair. He’s promised me so much. Honesty. A future. But maybe there’s a way, something bigger and crazier to shock my system into change. I’ve traveled out West with my family, and I fell in love with Vancouver. The mountains and ocean are spiritual, cleansing almost. If I moved there, I could leave the farmhouse and all it represents. Start fresh. Banish the girl who fills her anxiety with stories and things, and stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, for another trauma to set me off. With Sawyer at my side, it’s possible. The idea builds, my excitement growing with it. I tug his arm tighter around me, his sleepy breaths steady in my ear. Hopefully, the idea of living together doesn’t send him into panic mode.

I’m an athletic guy. I can sink a three-pointer and climb a rock face. I can navigate white water in a kayak. Apparently, my skills don’t pertain to standing. It’s our last day in Belize, the constant wind blowing across the island finally still, and Lily wanted to try paddleboarding. We’re maybe ten feet from the dock, and she’s gliding effortlessly.

I’ve fallen twice.

“My board’s faulty,” I call to her.

Legs braced, she dips her paddle into the water and spins her board toward me. She doesn’t waver, not even a minor sway. “The board’s fine. Just keep your knees bent and your weight centered. It’s easy.”

Easy, my ass. I push to my feet, the entire thing lurching as I struggle for equilibrium. The sun burns, the calm waters sparkling under its attention. A few strokes later, I find my rhythm.

Lily swivels so she can see me. “You’re doing great!”

“Turn back. I like watching your ass. It helps me focus.”

I’m pretty sure she mumbles, “Child” as she complies.

But man, that ass.

She’s wearing the same bikini she had on while snorkeling: the string sides begging to be untied, the turquoise fabric barely covering her goods. Scratch that.
My
goods. No one gets to see that ass, those tits, that birthmark, the perfect patch of golden hair between her thighs. No one but me. I’m addicted. Anyone else, and I’d blame it on the location—the exotic food and laid-back vibe, the sand and the sun. But this is Lily. When we’re naked, skin to skin, I really am a superhero, all my senses enhanced. She tastes like strawberry shortcake, smells like the sun-drenched ocean, and feels like cashmere. She’s my Venus.

Last night was the best New Year’s Eve I’ve ever had (even though ours was four days ago). We ate takeout barbecue on our porch, drank crap wine, and spent hours between our sheets. Columbus could’ve learned a thing or two about exploration from us. Unfortunately, today’s our last day.

We paddle a while longer, me rocking like a rookie, her stable as a veteran. The waterways are quiet, a few clouds above, the odd boat powering by, otherwise it’s her and me and the submerged city below us—freeways of fish, coral housing.

“A wave is coming.” She points to the undulating sea, a soft swell breaking off the reef. “Angle the nose toward it. It’ll be easier to ride.”

With ease, she drags her paddle and swings around. That part I can master. At home, I barely broke a sweat navigating the rapids and canyons of Skagit River. The churning water frothed over my kayak and fought me the whole way, but I breezed through it. As soon as this tiny swell hits my paddleboard, I lose my footing. I shift pressure from leg to leg and tense my abs, but I slip and land in the sea.

I spit out salt water as she laughs. “You should take yoga,” she says. “Work on your balance. I haven’t been to a class in ages but would love to get back into it. We could go together.”

“My balance is fine. Like I said, it’s the board. Must have too much rocker on one side.”

As kids, Finn and I were competitive. Winning isn’t everything? A for effort?

Fuck that noise.

No one remembers the dudes who swam against Michael Phelps. I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you can name a horse who lost to Secretariat. They don’t make Disney movies about the team that
didn’t quite make it
. Second place always sucks, but conceding a loss to Finn and his ego was brutal. My excuses came easily: the deck is missing a card, the tennis ball is flat, my joystick got stuck.

The paddleboard isn’t weighted right.

But the way Lily’s nipples stretch her bikini top, her tanned thighs taut—maybe losing to
her
isn’t so bad. I’m counting on a pity fuck.

I push onto my board and adjust the Velcro strap around my ankle, the only thing tying me to this piece of crap. I stand and paddle toward her, teetering once. “My balance
may
be off.”

She offers a condescending pout. “Does little Sawyer need his ego stroked?”

“I’ll need something stroked, all right. And yoga could be fun if I’m behind you while you do your downward dog.”

She laughs, her body as relaxed as I’ve ever seen it. She’s not blinking repeatedly, or chewing her lip, or picking her nails. Her shoulders are loose, her gray eyes light. This is
my
Lily. “Sure. You can practice behind me. I’d prefer hot yoga, though, and you’ll have to go shirtless. I’m sure they have classes in Vancouver.”

Her grin slips into a frown, the acknowledgment of our questionable future revealed below the blue sky. We fly home tomorrow, and we haven’t talked about our next step. There’s no doubt we’re staying together, but the hows and whens and what-ifs haven’t been discussed.

I nod to the buoy a few minutes away. “Let’s paddle over there and hook up our boards. We can hang out for a bit. Swim if we want.”

“Sure.” She takes off, and I curse this stupid fucking board as I wobble after her.

We pull up by the white buoy and remove our ankle straps. I attach them to the rope, drag her onto my board, then drape my legs over the sides. She scoots closer, her bent legs over my hips, feet resting behind me. The water sways, our board rocks. If I closed my eyes, we could be drifting in outer space.

Superpower wish: waterbending,
preserve this moment at sea
.

“I want to kiss you,” she says.

“I want to fuck you senseless,” I reply, because
the pact
.

She pulls my head down and drowns me in strawberry heaven. The fucking will have to wait, but I need her closer. I grab her ass and pull her against me, the ridge of my cock pressing against her barely there bikini bottoms. “It’s time we talked,” I say.

She flattens her hands on my chest, a familiar look of desire heating her cheeks. “It won’t be fair to talk like this. You’ll have control over my mind.” She glances down at my dick and licks her lips.

“Too bad. I want you pliable. We’re flying home tomorrow, and I’d like to set some ground rules. Some possibilities on how we’re going to make this work.”

A quick shift of her hips, and I get harder. If one of us is under the other’s spell, I’m pretty sure I’m hers to control.

She feathers her fingers through my chest hair. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, we’ve been seeing each other about once a month for work. That obviously won’t cut it. I could fly down every few weeks, and if you fly to Van once in between, we’d see each other a fair bit. I should also add that you can’t talk to or look at or be in the same room as other dudes. And if Ethan fucking Goldstein hits on you, I’ll toilet-paper his house. You think you can do this with me?”

She hunches forward, and her hands still. “Maybe.”

The water rolls, my gut lurching with the movement. Surely I heard her wrong. “Look, I was messing around about that guy stuff. I trust you. One hundred percent.” When she avoids my eyes, I add, “If you’re going to rip my heart out and tell me you can’t do this, I’d rather you get it over with. I’m a big boy.”

Who’s about to lose his shit.

The only time I’ve been dumped was after I cheated on my high school girlfriend. I celebrated that night. The other women in my life have known the score before we swapped spit. Nothing long term. Nothing permanent. Just good old fun. Some of them still got attached, the odd woman thinking she’d be the one to change me. Hopefully, they didn’t feel this sudden suffocation at my rejection, this deep ache.

Lily has flipped my world upside down.

A cloud passes over the sun, casting her in shadow. The water flips from turquoise to steel blue. She looks up. “What would you say if I told you I’d consider moving to Vancouver?” She dips her head and bites her lip.

My pulse speeds, but I’m not sure if it’s the good kind of racing or the
my balls are crawling into my stomach
kind. I’ve gone through different scenarios over the past days—the flying back and forth, the time apart. Like for Kolton, my moving away from our business wouldn’t work.
Unlike
Kolton, I’m secure enough in my manhood to do long distance. But living together is a big fucking deal. Lily moving her entire life for me is mammoth.

“You sure?” I ask. “I mean, you have your family and friends and the stores that sell your purses. It’s a huge decision.”

I shouldn’t be giving her an out, a reason to rethink this, but old Sawyer has taken up residence in my brain, reminding me that living together leads to marriage, and marriage leads to divorce and lawyers and a whole lot of heartache.

“I know. But it would be easier for my Moondog work, and I’ve been out West a few times with my parents. I love the beach, and the city has everything. Only if you want that, though. Moving in together might be too fast. Or I could get my own place, or we could fly back and forth like you said. Or if it’s all too much too soon, we don’t have to do anything. For now, at least.” She cringes. “Did I scare you? Are you freaking out?”

On a scale from one to watching
The Shining
on a stormy night, my level of terrified hovers around
Poltergeist
. (I don’t do horror movies.) But dammit, I’ve made progress with Lily. I should be pumping my fist in the air and sealing her offer with a kiss or a hug. A hand job, maybe? I shake my head, shifting my focus back to the issue at hand. Living together. My pulse taps again, but it’s a different tune this time, a rock ballad written for her. I’d get to sleep next to her each night, hog her covers, make her dinner, invade her space. We could have sex
all the time
.

The pros list ends there.

I lift my legs from the water and wrap them around her backside. “Not gonna lie, living together
does
freak me out, but I’m in. If we’re doing this thing, may as well go the whole nine yards. Roommates it is.”

I’m done overthinking things, worrying about my family genes and hurting Lily.

“You sure?” she asks.

“Positive.”

“Like really sure?”

“Final answer. Unless you drink directly from milk cartons and squeeze the toothpaste from the middle. If that shit goes down, you’re out.”

She shoots her hands in the air and squeals as the clouds part. I bask in the heat, her shrieks infectious.

“I’d need a few months to get things sorted,” she says. “I was thinking I could start an online business or something and ship my purses to Toronto. And Shay’s moving out West, which is huge. I’d miss my folks, and I have, um…some things I’d have to take care of.” Her gaze shifts away then, her teeth scraping her lip, her arms pulled tight to her sides.

Insecure Lily. Worried Lily. Not
my
Lily.

“What things?”

“Nothing. Just some…family stuff. Anyway, I think the fresh start will be good for me. A break from the past. Really healthy. And it’ll be great for us.”

“I can’t wait,” I say, still watching her, still uneasy. “I’ll come to Toronto in a few weeks for a visit. There’s no way I’ll last three months.”

I dip my head, but her attention stays on the water. There’s something she’s not telling me. It could be family related, or maybe it has to do with Kevin. Or work. Or maybe, like me, she’s nervous about taking this next step. Probably the latter, and I know just the thing to squash our reservations.

Orgasms cure all.

Her legs are bent over mine, making her bikini bottoms pucker. Easy access. I slip my fingers below the fabric. “I’ll be able to touch you every day, sleep beside you every night.” The more I think about it, the more excited I get.

I stroke her soft flesh, and she grips my shoulders. Her eyes flutter. “Every night,” she repeats, a quiet murmur. A few caresses later, she whimpers. “Can we have sex here? It would feel amazing on the water, outside like this.” She kisses me softly and rotates her hips, until my hand is trapped between her and my hard-on.

Talk about poor planning. “Babe, I would love nothing more than that. But I didn’t bring a condom. I know you’re on the pill, but I haven’t been tested in a few months, something I’ll rectify as soon as I’m home.”

I ease her back, giving my fingers room to move. She rocks against my hand. “Have you ever been with a girl without one?”

I stroke her, gently, easily, like we’re just talking. Like my fingers aren’t inside her swimsuit. So damn natural. “Never. You’ll be my first. But it doesn’t happen until I get checked.”

Her hands glide around my neck, looking for purchase. “I’m glad I’ll be your first.” I slip one finger inside her, and she moans. “Is it normal”—another sigh—“for everything you do to feel this good?” Another finger, and she arches her back. Even if I had a condom, I’d toss it. I just want to watch her face, her skin, her body as she dissolves.

“I like to think I know how to please a woman, but what exactly do you mean?”

She tilts her head up, her gray eyes translucent in the sun. “You’ve had lots of firsts. Does this feel so good because it’s new, or is it us?”

I grip her ass with my free hand and apply more pressure, rocking my wrist to the rhythm of the water.
Is this normal?
I’ve thrown my bachelorhood plans out the window, hearing her fall apart has become an addiction, and we’ll be shacking up. I lean forward and press my lips to her ear. “Yeah, sex is always fun when it’s new. But no, this isn’t normal. Nothing about us is normal, Lil.”

She grinds against my hand. So wet. So tight. Her breaths speed into pants. “There’s something else I want when we’re living together.”

“Anything, baby. Tell me, and it’s yours.”

She digs her nails into my neck. “When you go down on me, and you touch my backside, you know, deeper, I like it.”

Not what I expected, but
hell yeah
. Like most guys, I get off on the idea of anal sex as much as the tight friction. But for Lily to put that much faith in me, to know I’ll pleasure her, not hurt her, changes the act. It goes from savage to erotic. Animal to sensual. Almost intimate. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

She drops her hands to my cock. “Yeah. Maybe. Just try it.”

I nearly come before she has my swimsuit undone. “Only if you want,” I say. “And we could stop, if you don’t like it.”

She doesn’t speak again, and I’m lost to the feel of her. Intoxicated. We rock into each other’s hands, heat searing my skin from the inside and out. The board sways, seagulls the sole witnesses to our pleasure. She’s coving to Vancouver, we’re moving in together, and she trusts me enough to try new things, be vulnerable. My worries fade. All that exists is her pumping me, and me curling my fingers deeper inside her, until we fly apart, my release spilling over her hand as we press our foreheads together.