A Son of Carver (Carver High #2) (28 page)

He looks at me, still hesitating. “Ugh,” I mutter. “I’ll just do it myself.” I pull him down to me and kiss him lightly. He kisses me back and I breathe into him, relieved to be done talking for the moment. Our relationship this far has followed a pattern: a ton of work for a huge reward, and I’m guessing it won’t be any different in the intimacy department.

What I know for sure is that I’m ready to move on. To leave both of our pasts where they belong – in our past. I’m ready to start again. As friends, but also as two people that are in love.

Me and Nash. In love.

Oh my god.

“What about this?” I ask Presley, holding up a modest, silky navy blue camisole and matching short shorts.

She wraps her arms around herself looking beyond uncomfortable. I hang it back on the rack and take her hands from her body and hold them in mine. “I think you need a break. Let’s go get something to eat.”

Relief washes over her face and her tense shoulders finally relax. “Yeah, that sounds good,” she tells me with a smile. I bend down to kiss her before dropping one of her hands and leading her out of the lingerie department.

“I’m sorry,” she tells me as we walk down the shiny department store corridor.

“This was your idea babe, not mine. You don’t need to apologize.”

“Maybe I was talking to myself,” she tells me.

I laugh. Presley is damn frustrated with herself. I, on the other hand, am doing just fine. I’m more than happy with her mouth
. Her damn mouth
. That after kissing a million times over the past month is somehow still enough for me. 

But she wants more and she can’t seem to get past her mental block. She’s trying. She’s looked at her body but it still makes her physically uncomfortable. She’s spent a lot of time looking at my body too. She’s spent a lot of time running her hands over it. She wants more. I would take more but I’m not doing anything with her until she’s one hundred percent ready. And she’s not. Which is why she’s here.

I want to take photos of her, preferably naked, so that she can see that her body isn’t grossly disproportioned; that it is, in fact, perfect. But she came up with the idea of wearing something that’s
not her.

She pauses suddenly, her eyes wandering to the small section of out of season bathing suits that are tucked into the winter wear section.

“Yeah?” I ask her.

She looks up at me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Maybe? I can just pretend I’m… going on vacation… or something.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “That could work.” I lead her over to the rack and let go of her hand so we can sort through them. I hold up a basic black suit and she shakes her head.

“I have to wear bikini’s… the tops and bottoms come in different sizes.”

“Sweet,” I tell her with a flirty grin.

She smiles at me before getting back to her perusing. A minute later she tells me, “Okay, let’s go.”

“Huh?” I ask, looking up at her.

“I found one in my sizes. Let’s buy it and get out of here before I change my mind.”

“Oh…okay,” I eagerly agree, happy that she’s actually found something she’s willing to put on.

When I try to take the hangers from where she’s got them stashed under her arms so I can buy them, she tells me, “No. Just wait…over there.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Five minutes later she comes back with a bag in her hand. I wrap my arm around her and pull her into my side, then head out to the mall and to the first chain restaurant we come to. This shopping shit has me famished.

I wait until our orders are placed before asking her, “Can I see what’s in the bag?”

“It’s just a suit, Nash.”

“So you’re gonna make me wait until you have it on to see it?”

She lets out a breath. “Can we please stop talking about it? Otherwise I may chicken out and not put it on at all.”

I smirk at her. “But you are gonna let me see it?”

“Yes, Nash. I am. I don’t want to, but so far everything else you’ve told me to do has helped so even though I really don’t want to put it on and even though I
really
don’t want to put it on in front of you I’m gonna do it because I swear to god I don’t think I can take one more day of this stupid bullshit.”

I try not to laugh at how cute she is but it’s impossible. I grab a hold of her hands and tell her, “You know, I can get you off without touching your tits.”

“Yeah, I think you’ve told me that a few times,” she says with a smirk. I remind her of it at least once a day, every time she digs into my skin with her nails and swears out of frustration. I’m good right now, but she needs a release. She’s becoming crabby. “If this doesn’t work I might take you up on your offer.”

“My services are always available… day and night.”

She closes her eyes tightly and her jaw becomes tense. “Shut up, Nash. Seriously just shut up.”

I laugh under my breath. “What’s going on over there, Kitten? Did my words just get you all hot and bothered?”

“No,” she mutters, opening her eyes but her face is still tense.

“So, me talking about touching you, about rubbing your clit until you come didn’t have any effect on you?” I whisper.

Her face relaxes, her eyelids become heavy. For a second. Then she pulls her hands away from mine and stares me down. “Nash, seriously you have to stop. Yes. Okay? Yes, you talking about getting me off is turning me on. So stop.”

I take her hands back in mine. “Oh my god, we are gonna have so much fun. I bet all it’s gonna take is me blowing on you and you’re gonna explode.”

“Knock it off or I’m leaving.” I think she’s trying to whisper, but it’s way too breathy. God, her voice is so damn sexy.

The waitress shows up at our table but my appetite for food has been replaced by my appetite for Presley. Before she has it set down I tell her, “We’re gonna take that to go.” I take my hands from Presley so I can pull out my credit card and hand it to her.

“Oh...” she says confused. “Sure.”

“Nash,” Presley seethes after the waitress is gone, “what the hell are you doing… what do you think
we’re
doing?”

She looks panicked and I know what she’s thinking. “Nothing. I mean, I’m waiting. I’m still waiting to get you off until you’re ready, but let’s get you home and get those photos taken so you can start getting there.”

We head to my house because Presley
still
doesn’t want Jolee knowing about us and plus Nate and Nick are gone at a swap meet. Nick did what he said he was gonna do and let me and Nate, and mostly Presley, take care of him and his recovery was fast. Which is good. But now he’s in the market for another car. He thought about giving it up but the first time he was back at the races watching Nate and I, he gave up on that idea. It makes me nervous thinking about him getting back in a car, but it’s part of who he is and I couldn’t take it away from him even if I tried.

Presley grabs a beer out of the fridge and downs it in five large gulps. I stand watching her, completely amused. She grabs her bag from where she dropped it on the couch and tells me, “Get your damn camera ready because I’m not keeping this thing on for more than three minutes.” She disappears into the bathroom and I hightail it to my bedroom, panicking because I don’t know where the damn thing is.

I finally find it kicked under my bed and have just pulled it out of the bag and have it on when I hear the door open. I turn around and I shit you not, I lose my breath for a second, or several. Jesus Christ, she looks like the sexiest pinup I’ve ever seen. Which is now my favorite beautiful thing to look at. Dad and I are a little obsessed. But none of those damn girls look like the one standing in the middle of my room in a red bikini.

“Nash, don’t say anything. Just take the picture,” she whispers.

I’m literally speechless so that’s not gonna be a problem. I set my camera on my bed and walk to her. She backs away but I reach out and grab her wrist, pulling one of the ever present hair ties off her wrist. “You need to put your hair up so it’s not in the picture,” I tell her, handing it to her. This is supposed to be a beautiful object, not her own body and the thick black hair hanging over her shoulders is all Presley.

She takes it from me and has her hair piled on top of her head a second later.

“Over there,” I tell her, pointing to my window that has the crappy plastic shade drawn but is still omitting a soft light. She walks to it and stands uncomfortably. “Turn a little, put your palms on your hips.” She does what I say and it’s perfect. If she looks at this and sees anything other than perfection I’m taking her to a psychologist.

I shoot a dozen pictures, not really paying attention, just letting my eyes enjoy their time with her body, before she tells me, “Okay, that’s enough.”

Grabbing one of my sweatshirts that’s hanging over the back of my chair, she throws it over her body and… that’s a wrap. She walks out of my room without another word and I let her go. Every once in a while she needs time to process which is one of many lessons I learned after the night she heard Jolee talking about me.

The other main lessons I learned after that night were that she’s the opposite of who I had always assumed and truly the most forgiving and non-judgmental person I know. The biggest lesson I learned is that I need to protect her- like she was trying to do herself- from people’s opinions and judgment. I know I’ll never hurt her like I hurt Tatum but I don’t want people looking at her like she’s stupid for being with me. So, yeah, it’s now me who wants to keep our relationship on the down low. Not that she’s fighting me on it.

I sit on my bed and scroll through the pictures I took. She’s way better in person but, damn, I can’t believe how hot she is. This may have been a bad idea. My imagined naked version of Presley doesn’t even come close to the reality. I don’t know how I’m gonna stay away from this. But I will, until she’s ready. I’m falling more in love with the girl every day and I just fell a little more. I can’t believe the pictures I’m looking at are of a girl that’s mine. There’s no chance in hell I’m gonna do anything that could potentially fuck it up.

When I think she’s had enough time and I’m pretty sure I can keep my hard on under control, I head out to the living room. I look at her, sitting in my dad’s chair, her bare legs sticking out of my huge sweatshirt, her hair on top of her head in a messy bun and her big glasses perched on her face as she reads her book, and I’m struck again by how beautiful she is. I lift my camera and take another picture. She looks up at me, “What are you doing?”

“You look like the sexiest librarian in the history of librarians.”

She laughs before focusing on her book again. “But I’m not a librarian.”

“I don’t think most of those girls are.”

Even though she’s got her glasses on I can still see her roll her eyes.

I take a seat on Nate’s chair and, without looking at me she says, “Let’s get it over with.”

“You want to look at the pictures?”

“Yep,” she mutters.

I’m out of my seat and am positioned under her body in a second flat, her book tumbling to the ground from my sudden movement. “Oh my god, calm down cowboy.”

“Sorry. I’m excited. I don’t think you have any idea how hot yo… this random girl that I have pictures of… is.” She laughs but then sucks in a large breath and slowly releases it. When she’s done I ask her, “You ready?”

She lays back on me, her head cowering into my chest. “Yes?”

I hold my camera up, wishing the screen was larger so we could really appreciate what we’re looking at. Slowly, she turns her head and looks at it. She’s silent for too long and eventually I can’t contain my excitement. “Gorgeous, right? Like the sexiest body you’ve ever seen. I mean, Jesus, look at those curves… and those legs… and that skin and… everything. It’s absolute perfection.”

She surprises me when she grabs the camera and brings it closer to her eyes. She scrolls through them but she’s completely silent. It’s killing me.

Finally
she whispers, “I can’t believe that’s me.”

“That’s what I was thinking. I can’t believe that’s the girl I’m dating. Seriously, how crazy is that?”

“I don’t know if it’s the pinup pictures and old Hollywood actresses you keep making me look at but…I can see it. I mean, I can see how I kind of look like them.” She lowers the camera then shifts to look at me. She shakes her head and tells me, “I think you might be a genius. Is it possible that you’ve totally retrained my brain? I mean, like did you totally redefine what I see as a beautiful body?”

“That was the plan.”

“Huh,” she mutters, picking up the camera again. “It’s weird how I can look at this and not see me.”

“Well, I mean, I’m a genius right? I told you, you just had to look at your body apart from your face.”