Soaked (The Water's Edge #2) (26 page)

“You wouldn’t!” She gasped. I could imagine her clutching her throat dramatically. “We have a history, West! We grew up together and—”

“Then quit acting like a spoiled brat and actually try growing up like the rest of us.” Rue’s voice joined the fray, and I took advantage of West’s surprise by slipping past him to stand in the doorway. “Get a job. Pay your own bills.” She glanced at me before smirking at Aubrey. “Find your own man.”

Aubrey’s eyes bounced between us uneasily, perhaps sensing she was outnumbered but clearly not wanting to back down. Her cheeks were flushed, and she had a hand propped on her hip, attitude radiating from her.

Grady strolled around the corner and took up a position behind Rue, not speaking, but staring at Aubrey impassively, making it obvious what he thought without having to say a word.

Turning, she fixed her bright eyes on me, desperation lending a shrill edge to her voice. “You’ve ruined my life! All of my plans. What does he even see in you?”

“Everything.” West laced our fingers together. “I see everything in her.”

“She’s not even pretty!” She threw her hands up in the air, as if that was the worst of it.

With a growl, I took a step toward her at the same time West yanked me back, turning furious eyes her direction. “You. Don’t. Speak. To. Her.”

“Who’s gonna stop me? Looks like you have your hands full. You might need a leash for that bitch.”

“Me.” Rue stepped closer, and drew her fist back. I watched, wide-eyed, as everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

Rue’s arm flew forward, her hips twisting to put full power behind the punch, but then Grady was there, stepping between them, and her fist connected solidly with his face, his head jerking back with a snap. I gasped, my hand covering my mouth.

“What did you do?” Rue squeaked, as she rushed to Grady’s side, where he stood hunched over, his hand cupping his eye. “Why did you do that?”

Grady groaned. “Who taught you to punch?”

“My brother!”

“He did a damn good job.” Grady grunted and ignored Rue’s attempts to pull his hand away to see the damage.

“She tried to hit me!” Aubrey yelled. Everyone ignored her. She stomped her foot. “I’m pressing charges. That’s attempted assault.”

“
That’s
why I stepped in,” Grady said dryly, squinting at Rue through his uninjured eye.

“No one’s pressing charges.” West glared at Aubrey. “You’re going to go back to your little party and keep your mouth shut, and if I hear anything,
anything
about my friends or Sadie, or see you near my bar, you’re going to find out there’re worse things than not existing to me. Trust me, Aubrey, I’m one enemy you do not want to have.”

She drew herself up to her full height, and searched his eyes. He never wavered. Whatever she saw there must have convinced her, because she wilted in front of us before slinking around the pool house, pausing only to give me one last scathing look.

I exhaled, the pain that had dug its claws into my ribs relaxing once she was gone. He’d done it. He’d chosen me—
us
—over her.

But Rue. And Grady. I turned to them, but they were focused on each other, arguing about whether he was fit to drive himself the three miles down the road to his house. Rue was insisting on going with him, in case he’d gotten a concussion, and he was denying that she’d hit him that hard.

“It was a good punch! You’re going have a black eye at least.”

Grady shook his head, but then staggered a step to the side from the motion.

“That does it.” Sticking her hand in his front pants pocket, she withdrew his keys, dangling them triumphantly in there air. “I’m taking you home. Let’s go.”

“Rue,” I called after her as she tried to wrap an arm around Grady.

“You punched my eye,” he snapped. “There’s nothing wrong with my feet.”

She shook her head and looked back at me, shooting me a small grin. “Don’t worry about us. I’ve got this one under control. Now that you two seem to have worked things out, shouldn’t you be having wild make-up sex or something?” She winked.

“Under your control,” Grady muttered, stalking toward the long driveway where the cars were parked. “You wouldn’t know what to do with me if you had me.”

“I could think of a few things,” she said, right on his heels. “I might surprise you.”

He snorted as they rounded the corner.

Stunned, I turned to West. “What just happened?”

He watched them, amusement curling his lips and crinkling his eyes. “Nothing that hasn’t been brewing for a long time.”

I hesitated, unsure what to do next. “Do you need to go back to the gala? Will your grandparents be upset? Do you need to schmooze some more?”

He wrapped his arms around me and placed a soft kiss on my upturned lips. “Fuck the gala. I got everything I need right here.”

WE LEFT THE
gala and went straight to his bedroom. We did not pass go, we did not collect two hundred dollars. But for all our rush to get there, he changed speeds once he got me alone.

He unwrapped me slowly, deliberately, as if each part of me was a gift meant to be savored and treasured.

First, my shoes. I held onto his shoulders for balance as he knelt in front of me while his hot breath teased my already damp core. Then, the tiny hidden zipper that ran along my lower back, his lips welcoming each newly exposed inch of skin.

Once my dress was loosened, he lifted the right sleeve off my shoulder, letting it dangle. My nipple barely had a chance to pucker before his palm covered it, lifting and squeezing, molding it to fit his grasp. I gasped, and pushed my chest out further, eager for more. His mouth followed the curve of my jaw, before wandering with painstaking thoroughness down my throat. When he licked the hollow at the bottom, I melted, putty in his skilled hands.

I’d expected him to hurry. For the clothes to fly and the bed to squeak within moments of entering his room. But he seemed intent on reminding me what we’d been missing out on while we were apart.

The slow, sweet heat that came from a long-banked fire.

My hands were restless, unsure if they preferred the solid muscles of his shoulders or the thick softness of his hair, unable to settle in just one location, but instead seeking to touch as much of him as possible. He’d slipped off his jacket and discarded his tie on the way over, but his torso was still hidden from sight. When I tried to push him back so I could get to the buttons of his shirt, he shook his head, dipping down until he could suck on my aching nipple. I forced my hands between us, opening the buttons blindly while he tormented me.

The other sleeve of my dress slid free while I worked on baring his chest, and I dropped my arms long enough to allow it to slither to the floor, a whisper of fabric forgotten in an instant when his hand came up to cup my other breast, rolling my nipple in a mimic of his lips. I inhaled sharply then pressed him closer, my nails scraping his scalp. A soft moan escaped me when he bit down before he switched his attention to the other side.

He might have been content to take it slow, but I needed more. Grabbing both sides of his partially opened shirt, I yanked hard, scattering the remaining buttons around the room, the pings of them bouncing over the hardwood floor sounding like muted applause for my impulsive action.

He smirked, swatted my ass in acknowledgement, but refused to be rushed. He licked the lower swells of my breasts and kneaded my ass, ignoring the way I leaned against him, trying to get some friction, hell, any kind of attention, where I wanted it most.

When I tugged on his dark hair in an effort to speed him along, he leaned back on his heels, and captured both my wrists. Placing one firmly alongside my thigh, with a pointed look that told me not to move it, he lifted the other in front of him, massaging each part in turn—the heel, the palm, the length of each finger, and the tender spaces between them, and the base of my thumb. He kissed each fingertip reverently, then the delicate skin of my inner wrist where my pulse throbbed. The other hand received the same meticulous attention, and it was all I could do to keep my knees from buckling by the time he finished.

Who knew my hands would be my erogenous kryptonite?

Unable to wait a second longer, I cupped his jaw and yanked upwards, meeting him halfway in a kiss that I felt all the way to my soul. He rose to his feet, taking over control, slanting my head so he could stroke deeper into my mouth.

His tongue was a sin I would happily burn for.

We tangled, fought, dueled, and surrendered, each taste more drugging than that last. There was only his warm lips and his hands in my hair and his breath mixing with mine. Hair pins scattered, and my curls fell around us, as untamed as our kiss.

I shoved at his shirt, until it finally joined my dress on the floor. Finally, my hands were free to roam his torso unfettered. I traced the grooves of his abdomen, smoothed over the broad planes of his chest, and sought out his dark, flat nipples. Tearing my mouth away from his, I flicked one with my tongue, peering up at him through my lashes to see his reaction.

He exhaled harshly in surprise, curling his hands around my shoulders to hold me back and twisting away from me. “That tickles.” Nudged partially off balance, I caught myself on his forearms, grinning in triumph at catching him unaware.

Following the line of his arm from his shoulders down over his tattoo that seemed to dance with his flexing biceps, my gaze stuttered on his wrist.

My royal blue hair tie.

It was still there. A bit faded and stretched out, like he never took it off, it quietly proclaimed his unwavering intentions. I rubbed it with my thumb. Had it been there this whole time? Back at Anchor, before I left? And in Tennessee? I hadn’t looked, hadn’t noticed.

My amusement faded, and I looked back at his face, at the hungry intensity in his eyes. My eyes filled as emotions flooded me. Guilt for doubting him, relief that we’d moved past our obstacles, a fierce joy to be able to call this gorgeous man in front of me mine.

We stared for a long moment, making promises without words.

And then stillness was no longer an option.

I hitched my leg over his hip and attacked his mouth with a new fervency that bordered on anguish, needing to apologize for my part of our separation these last weeks. With an appreciative growl at my initiative, he took the hint, lifting me so I could wrap my legs around his waist, giving me a slight height advantage. As he moved us toward the bed, I forced his head back, turning into the aggressor, unable to get enough of his mouth.

I delved deep, nipping his lower lip, and chasing his tongue until I was panting for air and had to draw back, keeping my forehead pressed to his, unwilling to let even that much space separate us. His eyes glowed fever-bright, hot lust mixed with dark passion.

He leaned forward at the hips, lowering me to the bed. When he started to rise, I made a sound of protest, trying to pull him back to me, but he shook his head.

“You first. Always.”

And then he settled between my legs, raised my thighs over his shoulders, and nuzzled into the crease where my hip met my leg. His scruff tickled there, the thin skin extra sensitive. He followed the path to my slick core, continuing to tease me as he kissed up one side and down the other, without delving between my swollen folds.

I lifted my pelvis, impatient words falling from my lips. His name, curses, pleas, anything I thought might work to speed him along, but they all fell on deaf ears. His hands smoothed up my stomach until they cupped my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers while he ghosted a kiss right over my entrance, refusing to be rushed.

I squeezed my legs, trying to keep him there, press him closer, but he pinched one tight peak in warning, and I relaxed my thighs reluctantly, starting a slow grind of my hips instead.

“West.” His name was both a demand and a request wrapped in one.

He tongue made teasing forays, quick dips, soft passes. I dug my hands into his hair and tugged restlessly. He mouthed my lips, sucking on first one and then the other, before flattening his tongue and dragging it right up my center, finally giving me the pressure I craved.

He lifted his mouth just slightly, so when he spoke, I felt the words against my heated flesh. “Fuck, I’ve missed the way you taste.”

I almost came right then.

Lowering his head, he devoured me in earnest, his lips and tongue a beautiful torment. And then he did what I wanted most, what I needed. He focused his attention on my clit, sucking it into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, plying me with his lips until I lingered right on the edge.

My breathing was ragged at best, grabbing just enough oxygen to keep from passing out. I fisted my hands in his hair and urged him closer, lifted my hips, arched my breasts into his palms.

I was so, so close.

And when he plunged two fingers inside of me, twisting when he was fully embedded, I imploded.

Thighs squeezed and hands fisted and spine curved, all trying to keep him right there right there right there
oh God yes
don’t stop don’t stop
don’t stop!