One Week of Summer (7 page)

“I guess that takes care of the wet dress problem,” Teekay teased. “And I guess you’ll be needing something else to wear.”

I knew my skin was probably fluorescent.  The feverish blush ran down my throat to my chest and up my face to the roots of my hair.  I fought to get it under control as Teekay fished through his dresser and drew out a white t-shirt.  He held it out.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Are you going to
take
it?”

I struggled to hold the blanket shut as I grabbed the shirt.  I hazarded a glance at him.  He was watching me with an amused expression on his face.

He suppressed a laugh. “All right. I’ll look away.”

He pulled back the sheets on his bed and climbed in.  Still grinning, he put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

I dropped the blanket and slipped his t-shirt over my head.

“Done,” I announced in a whisper.

He cracked one eye. “So get in.”

“In the bed?”

Was he serious?

“Yes.”

Apparently, he was.

My heart started to hammer all over again.  The bed was a king-sized one, but somehow the space beside Teekay seemed miniscule.

“I can use the chair,” I told him.

His other eye flew open. “You’re not sleeping in the chair.”

“Sleeping?” I repeated.

“Yes, sleeping,” he replied with a wink. “What did
you
have in mind?”

I yanked on the borrowed t-shirt nervously. “Nothing. Not…I don’t know.”

“I’m tired. It was a rough evening.” He paused, then added, “Besides which, do you really think if I wanted something other than sleep, you’d be
able
to say no?”

I made no move to get closer, and Teekay rolled his eyes.

“There’s only one reason I don’t have you bent over the bed, and why I’m not eleven inches deep in that sweet little pussy of yours right this second, and it’s not because you won’t let me do it.”

I gasped, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of his dirty mouth, or because of the way my body immediately heated up at his words.

He shot me a cocky grin. “That’s right. I’m a hundred percent sure that I could make you do it and make you like it, Maggie. But I think that’s what you want. If you don’t initiate it, you’re not responsible for it. You’re just a victim of how dead-sexy I am. Which is how you want it to be. But I’ve made a decision. I’m not giving in. Because you’re
not
a fucking victim and I want you to know it.”

At the end of his speech, I was burning again, and this time it was in anger.  It was an odd feeling, to be mad.  It felt unnatural and as much as I wanted to shake it, I couldn’t.

How dare he be so presumptuous?
I asked myself furiously.
He’s barely known me five minutes and he thinks he can read me.

“You know what else, Maggie? I’m not even going to bother to finish off on my own,” he added as he slid his hand under the blanket to his crotch, leaving no doubt as to what he meant. “And I’m not going to take a cold shower, either. I’m just going to spend my whole night thinking about how it
would
feel to have you on my cock.”

I didn’t know where to direct my indignation, or even
how
to.  I sputtered a few incomprehensible words, then just stood there glaring at Teekay, who was looking more entertained by the second.

“I don’t know why you’re making me do it this way. But since you refuse to get in on your own…” he trailed of menacingly.

I didn’t have a chance to realize what was happening before it actually happened.

Suddenly, Teekay was on his feet.  His arms closed over me and he dragged me backwards.  I made a futile attempt to elbow him, but he just laughed and pulled me into the bed, where he held me tightly.

“If any other girl said no to me as many times as you have tonight, I’d have already told her to take a literal walk,” he informed me. “But you know what? I
like
it when you say no to me. I don’t think you say it to anyone else. Ever. And that turns me on as much as it fascinates me, Maggie.”

“Let me go,” I muttered.

“No.”

“Yes!”

He laughed. “Hell, no.”

“Please.”

“I’ll tell you what. You beg me for that kiss. Give me the control, and I’ll let you go.”

“If I beg you for a kiss, are you going to
give
me a kiss?”

“A kiss? No. Am I going to taste you, head-to-toe? Definitely.”

Oh, sweet lord.

This was going from bad to worse.  My breasts were pressed into his forearm and there was no way he could be unaware of how taut my nipples had become.  And my panties, still damp from his earlier ministrations, were getting wet all over again.

I forced my body to go limp.  After a second, his grip relaxed just enough that I could breathe properly.  Well, as properly as I could when I was wrapped in his arms.

“I’m in the bed,” I pointed out.

“I see that.”

“You can let me go.”

“Are you going to jump out of it as soon I do?” he wanted to know.

“I promise I won’t.”

“I don’t know if that makes me happy or sad,” he joked, but his arms loosened even more.

I pulled the blanket up to my chin.

Teekay exhaled, sounding exasperated. “If I was going to try anything, I wouldn’t have bothered with giving you the t-shirt.”

I ignored him, and a silence, far too heavy to be hanging between two virtual strangers, dangled between us. 

He broke it first. “Maggie?”

“What?”

“Come over here and cuddle up beside me. Let me hold you while we sleep. Just in case I
do
try anything and then you never let me near you again.”

I shuffled closer shyly, and Teekay enveloped me in a warm, horizontal embrace.  After a second, he rolled me over again and pulled my back to his chest.  It was as loving as it was sexy, and I couldn’t help but relax into him.

After just a few minutes, Teekay’s breathing evened out and I knew he was asleep.  So I closed my own eyes, and let the rise and fall of his chest lull me to sleep too.

Day Two

4)

A cool breeze dragged me into consciousness, and in an unexpectedly automatic move, I reached for a warm body – Teekay’s warm body – to stave off the cold.

The second I realized what I’d done, my eyes flew open, and an awkward apology formed in my mind.

But his side of the bed – or rather, the side of the bed that he’d been using, since the whole bed was technically his – was empty.  The blankets were rumpled and the feather pillow was creased with the impression left behind by his head.  I reached up and placed my palm on his pillow.

The spot was cool, but suddenly
I
was not.

The previous evening’s events came rushing back to me, and with them came the same ardent feelings.

Teekay’s hand, on me.

Teekay’s chest, pressed into me.

I drew away my hand like it was on fire.

In the dark, after the storm, with fear and adrenaline pumping…A not-quite-tryst seemed natural.  Almost. 

Now, with the daylight peeking through the dark, wooden blinds, it seemed unreal.  If it wasn’t for that glaring imprint left behind by Teekay’s body, and the fact that I was in his bed, I might’ve thought I’d imagined the whole thing.

I sat up slowly, half-expecting to see him positioned in the armchair across the room or to find him standing at the window.  But the room was empty, and silent.

“Hello?” I called softly.

There was no answer.

I swung my legs out of the bed and placed them delicately on the floor.  My toes squished into the area rug beneath the bed, and for a second they scrunched away in protest.  It reminded me too much of the sand at the beach and the other, not-so-pleasant memory that went along with the feeling.  And I was going to have to go back there.

But you don’t have to go
now, I told myself.

And it was true.  My grandmother’s house had been sitting for four years without more than an annual visit from a noticeably lazy caretaker.  When I’d arrived yesterday afternoon, I’d done nothing more than drop my bags in the extra-dusty front entryway and then run for the beach, notebook in hand.

So, no.  I hadn’t been in a rush then, and I didn’t need to be now, either.

If Teekay wanted me to stay, of course.  Which he might not.

I dug my toes into the rug again, this time more firmly, and started to stand up before I caught sight of my bare legs.  If I was going to get up, I’d need my dress.  I glanced around the room in hopes of finding it, but it was nowhere to be seen

Crap.

I was a hostage in Teekay’s room.  Unless I wanted to risk running into Donnie – or someone else – in nothing but a borrowed T-shirt and my underwear.

So I took a breath, stood, and looked around the bedroom at a more leisurely, more curious pace. 

Without Teekay and his distracting hands, I was actually able to notice a few other things about my surroundings.

Like the fact that the bedroom – which my host had made clear was
his
– looked like a magazine ad more than it looked like a place someone lived, even part-time.  With the exception of the armchair and stool, the bed, and a massive dresser, there was nothing in the room. 

It has even
less
personality that a showroom home,
I decided.

Because at the very least a display house would have
tried
to look like someone had made an effort.  A well-placed if generic knick-knack.  Some easy-on-the-eyes watercolor print on the wall.  But Teekay’s room didn’t even have that.  Not a poster, not a speck of dust.  Nothing.

I couldn’t help but wonder why there wasn’t an ounce of character in the room.  My grandmother’s little place was full to the brim with trinkets and evidence of life, even though it hadn’t been touched in nearly half a decade.

I walked around the room slowly, running my fingers over the furniture and eyeing up the closed closet doors.

Maybe it’s full of plain white t-shirts and jeans like the ones he’d had on yesterday.

I was just about to give in to an urge to open it when, from the corner of my eye, I spotted a flash of color in a familiar pattern.

Aha. My dress.

It hung from a hook on a cleverly disguised door at the edge of the room.

I stood on my tiptoes and grabbed it, making the door swing open to reveal a luxurious ensuite bathroom, complete with steam shower and marble tub.

I stepped in with the intention of getting dressed and freshened up, but as I faced the slick marble side of the shower stall and slipped off the borrowed T-shirt, a sudden vision of Teekay, covered in steamy water, clouded my mind.  It was all too easy to picture him, soaked and soapy, muscled and waiting, that crooked smile on his face.

With a flustered sigh, I yanked the dress over my head and turned to face the mirror.  Which was a mistake.

All amorous thoughts fled as I took in my horrific appearance.

My fine, blonde hair, which usually formed a soft curtain over my face, was twisted and tangled.  It was knotted up in clumps that would take an hour to brush out.

And my face…

Oh, god, my face.

It was splotchy with sunburn from my few hours on the beach and the scar that ran from my eyebrow, over my lid, and down to my cheekbone was stark white against the bright pinkness.

Oh, god,
I thought again.

I had – for the first time since the accident that caused it – forgotten about how it marred my skin.  And there it was, reminding me bluntly of my imperfection.  Of my unworthiness.

Had I looked like that when Teekay woke up?  Had he looked at me and run out?

Frantically, I swung open the bathroom door in search of my beach bag and the wide sunglasses inside.

“Where is it?” I muttered out loud. “C’mon, c’mon.”

But the bag wasn’t on the hook where my dress had hung.  It wasn’t on the floor anywhere that I could see.  I dropped to my knees to investigate under the bed.  I reached out my hands, hoping urgently they would find what my eyes couldn’t.

And that’s where I stopped and burst out laughing.

I got to my feet, giggles wracking my body, and made my way back to the ensuite, where I took a look in the mirror once more.

Me.  Maggie Mooreland.  The girl nobody looked twice at in the halls at school, unless it was to make a mocking comment about my appearance.  The girl who spent countless hours being told just how ugly she was.  Standing in front of bathroom mirror, caring about what some guy thought of me.  It was absurdly funny.

I laughed even harder.  Then the laughs themselves struck me as funny too, because who even knew I was capable of such a bubbly sound?  My body twisted with giggles.  I doubled over with them and reached out to grab the countertop to steady myself, but my attempt went wide.  I missed my intended target and smacked my face solidly on the sink.

Sharp pain shot through my mouth and when my eyes found the mirror, I saw a trickle of blood oozing from my bottom lip.

“If you thought you looked bad before…” I said to my reflection.

I giggled again, but it made my face hurt more, and after just a second, my laughter morphed into tears as the bleeding worsened.

I reached for the cabinet above the sink, hoping to find a cloth, but an abrupt knock froze me to the spot.

The bathroom door flew open and Donnie stood in the frame, a menacing scowl on his face.  As his eyes moved from my split lip to my hand, which was poised mid-reach, I found myself remembering that he said he carried a weapon.  I wondered if he really he did, and if so, how willing he would be to use it.

“What’re you doing?” he demanded coldly.

I blinked at him dumbly, sure I looked like the proverbial deer in headlights.

“I asked you a question,” he snarled.

I dropped my eyes. “I hurt myself.”

“That’s it?”

Was he disappointed?  Or just surprised?  I nodded without looking up to check which it was.

Donnie let out a breath, and when he spoke again, the angry edge had subsided. “I heard you crying and assumed – well. I don’t know what I assumed.”

He pushed past me and opened the cupboard under the sink, dug through, then pulled out a facecloth.  He dampened it, then held it out.

My hand shook a little as I took it and pressed it to my lip.

“Thought you’d have taken off by now,” Donnie commented.

“Apparently not,” I mumbled.

“He make you cry like that?”

“No.”

“You lying?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Girls do that.” Donnie shrugged.

I couldn’t really argue with him except to say, “Not me.”

“Because you’re not one of them, are you?”

“A girl?”

He grinned. “A rich kid.”

I smiled back, then winced as my lip burned. “Hardly.”

“Explains why I didn’t hate you on sight,” he replied, then added, “Let me have a look at that cut.”

I brought down the cloth and the older man gave the split a clinical once over.

“Won’t need stitches,” he announced. “Gonna make kissing lover-boy a little painful though.”

“I’m
not
kissing him,” I blurted, then blushed.

Both of Donnie’s eyebrows shot up. “Well. That explains his rather vigorous swimming efforts this morning.”

The comment might’ve embarrassed me further if it hadn’t filled me with alarm.  Teekay had gone to the beach and left me alone?

“He’s not here? How am I going to get home?” I asked.

“Relax,” Donnie replied. “He’s just down in the pool out back.”

“Pool?”

“Right. You’re not one of them.” The older man rolled his eyes. “All these houses up here have them. Because it’s not good enough that the ocean is ten goddamned miles away. You want me to show you were it is?”

I considered saying no.  The idea of sitting beside a contained body of water wasn’t my favorite.  But the alternative was probably sitting alone in Teekay’s room, twiddling my thumbs, and I didn’t feel like doing that either.  So I nodded and let Donnie led me out of the room and through the house.

We went past the gorgeous fountain again and I had to cover a smile as I thought of Teekay’s secret gum, stashed just out of view.  Then Donnie took me through a gourmet kitchen that rivaled something from a cooking show, with its expansive granite countertops, endless cupboard space, and top-of-the-line appliances.  I refused to be awed and kept my eyes straight ahead. But when we walked outside, I had no choice but to let my jaw drop.

The backyard was alive with flowering bushes and wooden archways covered in ivy and it sloped off into the woods.  It had a wild, unkempt look, like nature could take over civilization at any moment.

And the pool was unbelievable.  Crafted of natural stone, it curved along the side of the yard and looked like it was meant to be there.

The artist in me was so overwhelmed that it took me several minutes to notice that Teekay was swimming laps.

Once I spotted him, though, it was impossible to look anywhere else and I all but forgot about the yard.  And now my internal artist wished she had a little more experience drawing the human form so she could capture the perfect display of it before her.

It wasn’t the way his muscular arms flashed through the water or the way his sculpted legs whipped along with barely a flash.  It was the sheer joy in his movements.  It captivated me.  And I was surprised at how envious I felt.

Teekay clearly loved swimming – something that would fill me with paralyzing fear.  I wished I could share that.

Why did he ever give it up?
I wondered.

Even though I’d spent my whole high school career avoiding extra-curricular activities like the plague and took no interest in sports except to know when to avoid the gym, I still hadn’t been immune to Teekay’s legendary reputation.  And the rumors and shock that greeted his sudden departure.

Theodore Kimball Marcus, three grades above me and at the top of his game, had walked away from the swim team.  An in-the-bag championship.  A scholarship he didn’t need but would inevitably acquire.  Whispers of Olympic possibilities.  And he’d left not just swimming, but school completely.  He’d gone home one Friday afternoon and never come back.

When I’d heard the story, I’d even felt a yearning to do the same.

But now, watching his effortless glide across the pool, I couldn’t understand how he could give up the chance to spend his life doing something so perfectly suited to him.

I sank down into one of the deck chairs several feet away so I could watch him without disturbing him.

I was actually disappointed when he swam a final lap, then put his elbows onto the edge of the pool and pushed his fogged-up goggles onto his forehead to grin at me.

“Morning, Maggie,” he greeted.

“Morning,” I replied shyly.