Rev (29 page)

Something hit me. It was soft, thumped right against my head, and I pulled back away from the cushions of the couch to see what it was.

A pillow.

Saylor stood over me, her hands on her hips, and a look of exasperation plastered across her beautiful face. “You promised. It’s already 3:00 in the afternoon. You were sleeping the whole time.”

“Promised what?” I said, groggy, my head pounding. Then I remembered the turtle hatching thing.

“How many beers did you have?” Saylor asked, taken aback by the dozen or so bottles littering the floor around the couch.

“Enough,” I grunted, easing myself up and to the kitchen to get some water.

“We have to be at Holden Beach in three hours.”

“Plenty of time.”

“There’ll be traffic.”

“Okay.”

She walked back into the bedroom. I swallowed a few Advil.

Fuck. Why was I screwing this up?

I knew why. I was afraid I’d fuck it up. I couldn’t name one positive relationship I’d had in my entire life. My two best friends died because of my ill-conceived rescue mission. I was still sweating from the dream last night. The same damn vivid, grisly memory I kept reliving almost every night. If something threatened Saylor, I’d just get reckless. I’d make things worse.

I wasn’t the one to protect her. It would be selfish of me to take what I wanted from her and leave her worse off because of it. That’s why I didn’t get too close. I didn’t commit. I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place.

That asshole by the valet last night—I almost punched him out. I came this close… Somehow I held it together. But that’s me. Reckless, hotheaded, irresponsible. She doesn’t deserve a guy like that.

Things would have to be sorted with Roman anyway. There weren’t any moves left here. I made a mistake. Now I just had to hold it together. I had to keep myself cold and indifferent. What’s that about loving somebody and letting them go?

Is that what this is?

I hadn’t even fucked her yet and things were getting a little too mushy and sappy for my taste. I was obsessed with her.

Just then, she stepped out of the doorway and I had to turn to flip-and-tuck my junk. I really should have put on pants.

Damn, she’s looking hot.

I never thought that whole carefree, flowing clothes thing could be so provocative. But with a body like hers, you bet it drove me crazy. Hell, every time I caught a flash of her tan thighs under the light, breezy material of her dress, all I thought about was sex.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

I grabbed a protein bar and made a quick shake for breakfast. Every time we moved past each other in the kitchen, I did my best to avoid contact. The feeling of her body against mine, even for just a second, would make me start doing things I knew I couldn’t stop.

“You ready?” She asked, as I pulled on my jeans and a dark blue t-shirt.

“Sure. Let’s do this.”

I’d be on the beach with her, with her hair flowing in the sea breeze and her thighs gleaming in the soft, low light. The same hair I wanted wrapped around my hands as I pulled her body into an arch. The same legs I wanted wrapped around my waist as I buried myself inside her.

That’s a lot of temptation…

Chapter 14

We sped down the highway towards Holden Beach, Dean shifting from one gear to the next as he weaved through traffic with one firm hand on the stick shift and the other with a tense hold on the wheel.

“Have you had this car for a long time?” I asked, noting how tranquil and almost meditative he was behind the wheel, despite the quick shifts and pedal-work.

“It was my dad’s,” was all he said.

“He gave it to you?”

Dean frowned. “Sort of—sure.”

We rode the rest of the way in silence. I wanted to reach out to him, touch him, and rekindle whatever was so strong between us last night. But, he’d returned to that unreachable stoicism and aloof detachment that made it impossible to even approach him. He was in his own world, and I was afraid that whatever made him come out for a few minutes last night was long gone and never to return.

Every year adult sea turtles return to the beaches they were born on about 20 years earlier. They make the perilous journey through thousands of miles of dangerous ocean waters, guided only by smell and their ability to sense magnetic fields. They lay nests on just the right beach terrain, with the perfect slope to protect against flooding by the tide, and just the right temperatures and access to the gulfstream.

Holden Beach in southern North Carolina is one of those natural nesting grounds, especially for the loggerhead turtle. I was involved in many of the volunteer programs the North Carolina Wildlife Commission operated to aid in the protection of these endangered species. We’d help the baby turtles make their way to the ocean, ward off predators, and rehabilitate any weaker hatchlings so they could have a fighting chance in making it to the gulfstream and their ancestral feeding grounds.

Only one-in-a-thousand hatchlings naturally make it to maturity. And that was the good number. In the modern age, sea turtles don’t just have to worry about predators and natural dangers. The survival rate to adulthood is around one-in-ten-thousand when taking into consideration the reduction in optimal nesting area, artificial lighting which steers mothers and hatchlings in the wrong direction instead of towards the moonlight, and fishing caused by human activity. Last year alone, over 200,000 loggerhead turtles were snagged by fisherman.

So that’s why we stood there with the sun setting on the chilly beaches in front of the nesting ground signs, ready to help do our part. We were there to try and offset the damage modern human activity had done to this majestic, endangered species.

“So, what’s this all about?” asked Dean, standing beside me, looking impossibly sexy in a fitted navy blue t-shirt, arms crossed, unfazed by the cold.

I’d put on the light jacket he’d bought me at the store in Wilmington. It was cropped, but warm, in a faded sea-green color. Dean, for his part, never seemed to need anything more than jeans and a t-shirt.

Why would he?

All of a sudden, I noticed the thick, solid muscle of his arms and the way he held himself, like a man who could take command of any situation by simply walking into it. For a moment, as the cool air swept through his dark hair and he looked out over the ocean, I wondered why we’d lost our moment.

We were both part of a world that demanded loyalty and deference. There was no way out. There was no future here.

But in that moment between us, I didn’t care. I was swept up in all of it and wanted to take the heady passion I felt to its rightful conclusion. I wanted his hard body over mine. I yearned deeply from a need only he could fill. Dean Hunter was my destiny.

“Alright everybody, here they come!” Jonathan exclaimed. “Let’em do the work, just help them dig and watch for stragglers or wrong-ways,” he instructed, referring to the baby turtles that were too weak or confused by the city lights to make their way to the moonlit ocean.

Jonathan was in his mid-twenties, with green thoughtful eyes and a dusting of light stubble that lent him an adventurous edge. His gentle, sharp features were almost pretty and he made a great poster boy for the Save the Sea Turtles Volunteer program. He’d spend years abroad working in Africa, where the loggerhead turtles fed and grew to adulthood. I looked forward to hearing more of his stories tomorrow when he explained the rehabilitation program to this season’s volunteers at the aquarium.

“So, they’re just going to make a run for it out of the sand?” Dean asked.

“Pretty much,” I uttered excitedly. I was eyeing the craters in the sand, watching for the first break. The hatchlings would start crawling out together, tunneling through the sand and to the surface in one concerted effort. Even though only a handful would survive, the first part of the process required collaboration—no single baby turtle could survive directly after birth without the others.

“Where’s the mother?” Dean inquired.

“She lays the eggs, about four clutches, over a hundred eggs in each, and then swims away.”

“Tough break,” Dean noted thoughtfully. “Guess there’s a precedent for that sort of thing in nature.”

I looked up at his hard, angled face, and marked the bit of detectable emotion slipping past his typical reticence. “What’s worse,” I continued, “is that the mothers will drop the eggs into the ocean if they don’t find a suitable nesting location. That’s why it’s so important—”

“What the hell!” Jonathan shouted out suddenly. “Someone run over to those college students over at that beach house over there. They’re not supposed to be blasting the music and lights tonight. There’re notices everywhere. They’re going to mess this up real bad!” he fumed.

Jason, one of the new volunteers, rushed off to make sure the party lights were turned off. If they remained on, many of the baby turtles would start stumbling further inland and the hatching would turn into a mess. They had precious few minutes to make it to the shelter of large seaweed beds, where they could eat and find protection from predators.

“There it is!” Jonathan shouted, pointing to the first nest in front of us, where the sand began to cave in and several miniature flippers began to shovel up and into the night air.

“What’s the big deal here?” Dean questioned. “Everyone’s getting so excited.”

“That’s because you’re about to see something amazing.”

“What?”

I turned to him and smiled. “Just about the cutest thing ever.”

Chapter 15

Honestly, at first it looked like a bunch of ants or crabs or something swarming out of a hole in the sand. They just started pouring out, a dozen at first, then another, until I couldn’t count and it looked like someone stepped on an anthill.

Except, when Saylor knelt down in the sand and started scooping up a little tunnel, and I joined her helping steer the scurrying little creatures—well, I couldn’t help but break out into a grin. They were smaller than half my palm, plodding along, one dark green flipper at a time. They marched towards the ocean, staggering forward and dragging their miniscule shells across the sand. The ones in front, the more aggressive ones, they started pulling away from the pack, absolutely determined in their massive effort to survive the moment of their birth and make it into the perilous ocean.

“Watch for the predators!” yelled some guy with meticulously maintained stubble.

“Hey, help me keep away the crabs and lizards,” Saylor stated. “And watch for the birds too.”

I followed her to the shore, where a crab had already trapped one of the small turtles in his big claw. Saylor shooed the predator, who at first tried to keep hold of his dinner, but eventually decided to bolt. She lifted the small, dark green turtle in the palm of her hand. It just about fit perfectly.

“Little guy’s got some damage to his flipper.”

“So what do you guys do about that?” I asked.

“Jonathan will take him back with the others and we’ll let them heal at the aquarium. There’s a whole program for them. I started volunteering with that last year.”

We walked over to the large tank in the back of Jonathan’s pickup truck. Saylor picked up a small red tag and looped it over the turtle’s flipper. Marking the clipboard positioned on the side of the tank, she eased the little guy into the water and walked back towards the water with me.

I watched as several nests down the beach exploded in a frenzy of daring exertion.

It’s the mad dash of life.

“There weren’t that many night herons. They were lucky.” Saylor watched as the final scuttling waves of little turtles plopped into the ocean and began the first leg of their 20-year journey.

“So, only one out of a thousand of those guys is going to make it back here in 20 years?”

“Less,” she clarified. “Kind of makes you thankful for the chances you get in life. One-in-ten-thousand is what some of them are facing. But they keep at it.”

I nodded. “So you need a ride to the Aquarium tomorrow?”

She looked out at the soft break of the waves, her hair shining bright in the moonlight. “I’d like that, Dean.”

“Everything here good?” I followed her line of sight to the mass of bobbing green dots on the surf, diving one after another under the surface and out to the great open sea. “You ready to go back?”

Saylor stared wistfully down the bend of the coast, finally glancing up at me. I held her gaze. She tensed a bit and turned to the pickup truck. “Let me just go check-in with Jonathan.

I waited until she came back. I’d underestimated how cold it would get on the shore with the winds we’d been having. I’d underestimated a lot of things. Chief among them, how I’d grow to feel something this deep and abiding for her.

I have to have her.

We passed the width of the beach back to the car in silence. The car roared up the now clear highway back to Oak Island. All the while, I was conscious of the way she looked at me, like she was conflicted and discouraged. My chest pounded. My mind was made. I knew there was no going back.

The house was quiet and all I could hear was the crashing of waves in the distance. I turned on the soft, low light in the living room, flooding the small cottage in a slight, bronze glow. Opening the door to the bedroom, I motioned for her to go inside.

“Saylor, listen” I began. “I didn’t want you to think—”

“It’s okay,” she said.

“I mean, before, back in Wilmington, I—”

“Dean, it’s okay. After tomorrow, I can’t go back, but I’ll go find something else. It’s what I should have done a long time ago.”

“Saylor…” I pleaded.

“Why are we trying to make our lives more complicated, more difficult? What the hell are we doing Dean? I’ll get out of here after Sunday.” She walked into the bedroom.

“I don’t want you to,” I urged. “I never did, from the moment I saw you.”

She looked up at me, all big eyes and a questioning expression. “Then why?”

I walked into the bedroom and put my hand on her slight shoulder. “Because of me, Saylor. Because the last time I cared, the last time I committed to anything, I screwed it up. My two best friends are dead because of me. I couldn’t live with myself if something like that happened to you.”

She looked down with a fallen expression across her small features. “Well, what are we supposed to do? I know it’s probably insane to keep going with this, but I don’t see any other way. Other than to be miserable.”

I reached under her small chin and lifted her head until her eyes met mine. “I say fuck it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s always a chance. And a chance like this is worth taking.”

She smiled and I kissed her. Her lips parted for me, and I pressed into her with my tongue. I held her with one hand wrapped around her waist and the other tilting her head up towards mine.

I pulled my mouth from hers and ran my hands under the swell of her breasts. She sighed in a way that made me hard. Fuck, I was hard. Harder than I’d ever been before.

“I want you, Saylor. I have to have you.”

Her small hands reached over my shoulders and she whispered, “Then take me.”

Her words drove me over the top. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I lifted her shirt over her head and pulled down her skirt. She stood in front of me in matching light purple panties and bra. Her skin looked so soft and creamy, I wanted to devour her.

I stepped back and admired her. The beautiful curve of her hips and exquisite contour of her breasts brought an agonizing tightness to my crotch. I couldn’t believe I’d held off as long as I did. A girl like this—what the hell was I thinking? I’d make up for lost time, that’s for sure.

“Saylor…” I groaned.

“Dean?” She looked up at me again, those big, wide, wonderful eyes gazing deep inside me.

“I was always looking for you. This is it. I finally found you.”

I pulled her close and ran my hands down her back and under the curve of her perfectly plump ass. The rapid flutters of her heart beat against the quickening pulse deep in my chest. I pressed against her neck and kissed down the entire length to the top of her breasts. The smell of her drove me wild. I inhaled her sweet scent and my cock raged.

“You’re not going anywhere Saylor,” I affirmed. “Not without me.”

She breathed heavy and a moan escaped her lips as my tongue darted under the top of her bra. I ran my hand up her thigh and over her moistening panties.

“I have to taste you,” I groaned, feeling how slippery and aroused she was between her soft thighs. “I need that pussy.”

I picked her up and placed her on the bed. Her eyes were closed, small shudders running across her body every time I caressed the soaking center between her legs. I unhooked her bra and pulled down her panties.

Holy fuck!

Those breasts…that tight, dripping slit… The old me would have rammed it right in. I would have grabbed hold of those pillowy tits and smashed into her with wild abandon. And I wanted to. Every part of me screamed with lust, with the need to bury myself balls deep inside her.

But this is different.

I had the indescribable need to make her mine. I wasn’t about to just use her and throw her back when I was done. No one else would have her. She was mine. I’d take all of her. I’d explore every inch of her body and claim it for myself.

I spread her legs and rubbed her clit with my thumb, circling until her slickness spread across her lips.

Those swollen, juicy pussy lips…

I slipped my finger inside of her. She was wet, soaking, but tight. So fucking tight. I crooked my finger and worked it inside of her, pushing in and pulling out, pressing against that one spot that brought out moans and shudders.

Damn, that sounds hot…

It was like playing an instrument. If I touched her right, she made the most delicious, glorious sounds of pleasure—raw, intense moaning; deep, heavy breathing; quivering sighs. She stretched and I fit two fingers. Then three. If she was going to take all of me, we still had a long way to go.

So I gave her my tongue. I drove it inside of her and relished her shattered moaning—music to my ears. She tasted sweet and luscious. Her juices were ambrosia, her pussy the lushest thing I’d ever eaten.

She grabbed my hair, yanking me closer in. Her thighs trembled and she shuddered. Her hips bucked against me. Her back arched deliciously and I cupped her soft, smooth ass in my hands, driving my tongue even deeper.

“Dean! Oh my god, Dean…”

Every time she screamed my name, her voice grew more piercing. Her moans climbed higher, until she cried out in one long, high-pitched climax. The sound of her pleasure stiffened my cock. I watched her toss in the sheets, fingers clutching and toes pointing, until her hair was a wild tumble and her face glowed.

“How. Did. You. Do. That?” She stammered. 

I smiled. Her orgasm delighted me. The power I had to make her quake and tremble so feverishly—it excited me, aroused me, and engorged my cock to an excruciating level of hardness.

Fuck, I could cum right here and now.

But the thought of slamming up against that soft, plump ass kept me focused. Her pussy was drenched in her silky juices, relaxed from my handiwork and her arousal. She stared at me from under hooded eyes, content and serene.

“That was amazing…” Her head rolled back.

I slipped off my shirt and stepped out my jeans and boxer-briefs.

“You have no idea what’s coming,” I told her.

Now it’s my turn.

Chapter 16

Dean stood over me, completely naked. Finally, I saw all of him—his whole, perfectly muscled, hard as rock body. My eyes traced down from the broad expanse of his shoulders, inked in dark tattoos, to the bulging swell of his arms and finally settled on his trim, chiseled waist. The deep V-cuts of his abdomen caught the low, bronze light and showcased just how ripped he was.