Remember When (Remember Trilogy #1) (25 page)

   A wicked smile decorated his face. “Want some company?”

   I stepped back across the hall and slumped down on his bed in answer. He flopped back down half on top of me and groaned, “Remind me to kill Cooper.”

   I readjusted myself more comfortably underneath him before snuggling into his arms. The skin on my face and shoulders was feeling tight and raw, sunburned the day before and settled into its full damage while I was sleeping, and I was finding it somewhat hard to spoon with Trip. Which goes to show you how badly I was hurting!

   After some breakfast in bed (Froot Loops), we declined the invitation to join everyone on the beach. Instead, we spent the entire day on that mattress; talking about godonlyknows and laughing our asses off.

   The fact that he could barely touch me without me wincing kept our fooling around to a minimum. But neither of us minded too much. It was just awesome enough to be there with him, have him all to myself for a little while, just the two of us, no clock to watch, no time or space
beyond that queen-sized bed. We only left to grab something to eat or use the bathroom, to change the radio station on his boombox or throw on a CD.

   By the time everyone came back for dinner, we were surprised that it had gotten so late. We reluctantly came downstairs and helped to demolish the pizzas waiting on the kitchen table.

   The weather had been cooling off considerably all day, so we decided to join everyone for a sunset game of wiffleball back at the beach, and Trip was astounded at how well I could play. He seemed more impressed than put off when I struck him out-
twice
- which made me laugh to myself at my own, private joke; my athletic abilities had at long last become an advantage to me in the boy department.

   We got back to the house and cracked a few beers before picking numbers out of a hat for the shower schedule.

   When it was my turn, I grabbed a change of clothes and a towel and headed in. I had to shampoo twice to get all the sand out of my hair and was just rinsing off when I heard the door open. Guess who.

   I poked my head out from behind the curtain to see Trip leaning against the counter, eyebrows raised.

   I gave him a warning look. “Don’t even think about it.”

   He started laughing. “Aww, c’mon, Lay-Lay. You’re no fun.”

   I disappeared behind the curtain and said, “I mean it, Chester. Please don’t.”

   It must have been the “please” that registered, because he acquiesced without further argument. “Fine, I’ll just wait out here until you’re done.”

   “Promise?”

   “Yeah, sure. I promise. But at least give me the play-by-play of what I’m missing out on.”

   He was so bad.

   I laughed out, “Well, right now, I’m r
insing the shampoo from my hair!”

   If he really needed a rundown of what I was doing in there, I could have just continued with a basic explanation of my shower ritual. I could have chosen to say nothing at all. But I quickly came to the realization he had proposed an offer that was just too good to pass up. After how he’d teased me into oblivion the night before, I couldn’t resist a little payback. Some wicked force overtook my body and turned me into a madwoman.

   I dropped the joking tone and tried on a sultry voice. I wasn’t quite the actor he was, but was able to suggest slowly, breathily, deliberately, “Actually, the water is so
hot
and it’s sooo steamy in here. Mmm... I’m so wet, and God, it feels
so good
.”

   I thought I heard Trip choke.

   I grabbed the bar of Ivory from the ledge, continued my commentary at a snail’s pace, “Now, I’m soaping myself down, running my hands all. Over. My body. My neck, my shoulders... If only there was someone who could help me wash my back... or my
front
... Hmmm...”

   When I didn’t hear anything from Trip, I poked my head back out. He was standing there white as a ghost, his bottom lip slack and his eyes wide. “Layla, what the
fuck
?”

   I giggled more to myself than at him. Oh, the power! It was thrilling, to say the least, being completely naked only one thin shower curtain away from Trip, knowing I was driving him crazy. How could I stop now?

   “It’s
so
slippery!” I continued. I took a deep breath and exhaled, adding, “And it smells like
heaven
... I’m rinsing off now, the hot water spraying me
everywhere
.”

   “That’s it. I’m coming in.”

   Ha! At that point, I kind of wanted him to! But fun and games were one thing. Thinking about him actually getting undressed, the two of us naked in such an enclosed space... A small panic gripped me and I blurted out, “No! You promised, remember?”

   “Oh, you little tease.”

   I laughed wickedly and peeked back out at him. He was unabashedly adjusting himself in his shorts, trying to get his body under control. I put a hand over my mouth and laughed even harder.

   “It’s not funny, Layla! Jesus, look what you’ve done to me.”

   I only had the nerve to glance down quickly at the bulge in the front of his shorts. It was enough to make me dizzy, thinking about that same piece of machinery driving against me the day before, first outside by the cars and then later half-naked in his bed. I wondered what the night would bring. Where else could this be heading?

   I turned off the water and a moment later, his arm thrust beyond the curtain, offering a towel hanging from his hand.

   I grabbed the towel, asking, “You sure you don’t want to help dry me off?”

  
Okay, I admit it. That was just being mean.

   His hand jerked back,
disappearing to the other side of the curtain. “Jesus! Okay, just hurry up and get out of here. If you’re not gonna let me in there, then you seriously need to get out of this room so I can take care of this.”

   I knew the “this” he
was referring to was his raging hard-on, threatening to destroy him unless something was done to take the pressure off. I didn’t know where the newfound boldness was coming from, but I decided that that something was going to be me.

   I
took a deep breath, wrapped the towel around my body and stepped out into the steamy bathroom. Trip looked pained, barely meeting my eyes when he said, “Out. Now.”

   I grinned, loving that I was the one responsible for getting him so worked up. But I didn’t leave.

   I stepped closer, backing him against the vanity, sliding one hand up his bare chest, the other across the front of his cargo shorts. He didn’t hesitate to grab my wet hair in his hands and open his mouth over mine. The kiss was electric, jolting me down to my core, the feel of his mouth open over mine and his erection under my hands wildly exciting, out-of-control, the steamy room spinning.

   My lips didn’t leave his as I slid my hands to the button at his waist, lowering his zipper, letting his shorts and undies fall to the floor. I took him in my hand, the size of him startling me. I threw open my eyes, looking into his in disbelief. He grinned that shit-eating grin before kissing me again, obviously enjoying my moment of shock. Well, now it was my turn.

   I gripped him firmly, the soft/hard feel of him straining into my palm, moving against the motion of my fist. When I pushed downward, he thrust forward, driving himself into my hand. I heard him moan into my mouth and the knowledge that I was the one to put him in such a state was empowering, exciting beyond anything I’d ever known.

   I returned the favor, moaning back against his lips, which made him break our kiss and brace his hands against the counter in a white-knuckle grip, his head thrown back to face the ceiling, eyes closed. His teeth clenched as he gritted out, “Mother of
God
.”

   I would have laughed, but I was feeling a bit awed at that moment myself. I leaned over him and sucked at his collarbone, dipping the tip of my tongue into the hollow of his throat, running my teeth along the cord of his neck, biting his earlobe lightly, all the wh
ile continuing the rhythm of my hand.

   I’d never been that uninhibited before, wanting only to please him with what little sexual knowledge I possessed. My brain long since liquefied, I could only follow the lead of my raging nerve endings, not even bothering to think and just doing whatever felt good. Because what I quickly learned was that if it felt good for Trip, it felt almost as good for me. He wasn’t even touching me and yet I was so completely turned on, my heart racing wildly, every molecule within me threatening to implode. Every touch that wrung a moan from his throat, I intensified, every movement of my hand working on pure instinct and the hope that I was doing something right.

   “
Layla
,” he said, and the mere mention of my name coming from his lips at a moment like that almost drove me mad. Desire pooled through me, all my pink parts tingly and alert, the sudden epiphany that I not only
could
go all the way with this guy, but
wanted
to. Wanted to be stripped down with him, wanted every part of his skin pressed against mine, feel him lying on top of me, hot and demanding, taking me right there on the bathroom floor... All I’d have to do is drop the towel...

   But Trip was too far gone. “Layla, h
oly Jesus. I’m gonna… just keep... I...
ohhh
!” His body lurched forward as his cock went off like a bazooka, which fortunately, was aimed toward my midsection and into the towel I was wearing. His hand wrapped around mine, continuing the movement along his softening member slowly, the aftershocks dribbling out against my belly. It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen!

   He slumped into me, his face against my neck, breathing hard, unable to complete a full sentence. “Holy sh... I can’t... wow.
Wow
. Oh my God!”

   I held him to me, loving that new side to him; vulnerable, spent...
mine
.

   I didn’t know what the hell we were doing, and, at that moment, probably shouldn’t have cared less. I didn’t know if we were legitimately a couple or what. Were we just screwing around? Was it just a friends with benefits thing? Throughout high school, I’d never even so much as gone to second with a guy who wasn’t formally my boyfriend, and yet there I was, wrapped in the arms of a clot
hesless Trip Wilmington, the evidence of what we’d just done together glistening right there on my hand.

   I mean, that was the first real live penis I’d ever seen, much less touched, much less prompted to explode, and Trip and I weren’t even really going out! I don’t know what it was about him that
managed to turn me into such a sex-crazed lunatic, but I didn’t spend too much time beating myself up about it. After four years of catholic school, I figured I
ought
to have felt guilty for what we’d just done. But the only thing I regretted at that moment was that we missed out on the chance to go even further.

   Feeling him slumped against me, out of breath, naked and elated and holding me as tight as his wasted arms would allow, was nothing short of awe-inspiring. How could I ever feel guilty about something that felt so good?

   “I’m in love with you,” I whispered, the words leaving my lips before my coagulating brain was able to stop them.
Oh dear God, did I just say that out loud?

   My body froze instantly, stunned that I had actually let that thought slip out of my head and escape from my mouth. I could have just died right then and there.

   Trip just gave a quick chuckle and pecked me on the lips, then bent down to retrieve his shorts.

  
Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod
. What did I just
do
?!!?

   Trip bypassed any commentary on my proclamation, buttoning up and washing his hands at the sink, where I joined him, completely mortified, before I slipped out of the bathroom silently in order to let him take his damned shower.

   I holed up in my room, locked the door and ditched the tainted towel in the dirty clothes bag. I got as far as dressing into a bra and panties before sinking onto the bed and completely losing my mind.

   What the hell was I thinking? How could I have actually told Trip that I loved him? And oh God! He didn’t even
try
to say anything about it! He didn’t say, “I love you, too”, which, let’s face it, would have been awesome, but completely ludicrous and way too much to hope for. But he could have at least tossed me that time-honored, unrequited response of, “Thank you”. He could have said
something
to let me off the hook for being a completely ridiculous freak with a broken brain filter. After just servicing him with a mind-blowing handjob, the least he could have done was that!

   I threw the pillow over my face, hoping for an accidental suffocation. Then I wouldn’t have to go downstairs and spend an entire evening in the same room with Trip, who, if he had any doubts about it before, had now been made entirely aware of the fact that I was in love with him.

  
Are you there, God? It’s me, Layla. I know I just jerked off some guy who is not even my boyfriend in the bathroom of this crappy, brown house. But if you could find a way to kill me quickly and painlessly within the next ten seconds, I promise never to touch another penis again. Well, I’ll be dead, so, I guess I promise not to whore it up in heaven. Which, of course is where you’ll be sending me, right? I mean, I’d hate to think you’d deny me an eternity behind your pearly gates just because of one impetuous handjob. Thank you. Sincerely, Layla Warren. Amen.