The Girl He Needs (14 page)

“You’re so high strung,” I whisper and wrap my arms around his neck.

“I’m driven,” he says, skimming hot kisses up my neck.

I straddle him and nip at his earlobe, which elicits a moan from him so I do it again. His large hands cup my butt, pushing me hard against him. Slowly he walks us to the steps of the pool and rests me against them. When my breasts break the water, he bends his head to take one nipple in his mouth, sucking me in.

Forgotten are my family woes, doubts, and insecurities. The harshness of the world is lost and I wallow in the fuzzy softness we create.

He’s pressed against my stomach, so I take him in my hand and begin a gentle stroke.

“Lord, Josie. You’re going to undo me.”

“Please,” I say. “I won’t make it much longer.” I wrap my legs around his waist and line up all the important parts.

“There’s a condom in my jean pocket,” he whispers in my ear as I grind against him, kissing the space below his ear.

“Go. Hurry,” I whisper with an immediacy I’ve never experienced. This man, this moment, is all I need but I need it now.

He carries me to the lounger, still pressed against him, and lays me down then snatches up his jeans and fumbles in the pocket for the foil square. It falls out of his hands onto my chest where I whip it up, open it, and with a small gesture ask if I can slip it on. He nods and I roll it down his length, caressing as I go. His eyes briefly drift closed as he moans.

Tightening my arms around his neck, I rub against him.

“Now,” I whisper.

His hands hold my hips, bringing them forward, and in one swift movement he slides in me.

“Yes,” I cry and arch toward him. “Yes, please.”

His moan unravels me and we love each other hard and fast. I come apart in his hands and he wraps me in his arms, holding me together. When every possible surface of my body is touching his, he shift gears and strokes me with a slow ease. Just when I think I’m satiated, I become consumed with an incredible thirst for more. With him, I’m lost and found.

I rise to meet him and push back. Where he once led, I now take over, whispering demands as our bodies move in unity, his hands doing my bidding. My sole purpose to give him what he’s given me. When he draws close, I take him over the edge, hold on tightly, and we free-fall together.

My left leg is entwined with McRae’s right one as we lie on our backs struggling to catch our breaths.

“That wasn’t much of a swim,” he says.

“No, it wasn’t. I got distracted.” I turn to him. He’s smiling. His face is soft with satisfaction and his eyes are closed. For a guy who is singularly focused on his goals and little else, when no demands are present other than achieving pleasure, he’s quick to let his guard down. His ability to give unselfishly seems less about being an eager beaver desperate to please, and more about a hunger for closeness and the deep, soul-satisfying gratification he feels when that happens.

“Give me about ten minutes and I’ll distract you some more.” He strokes my leg, rolls toward me, and opens his eyes. My leg slides down his and I rest, half under him. He’s incredible to look at, yet, with all the definition of his body, there’s something soft in his touch and the way he presses his form to mine.

“If I could feel the bones in my body I’d go for a swim while you gather up your energy, but it appears I have the consistency of a noodle.” I pick up my hand and let it flop on my stomach.

“I aim to please.” He throws my words at me and we laugh.

He’s beyond handsome with his straight nose and square chin. He keeps his hair short but it’s grown since we met, long enough that I can tell it has a natural wave. His right incisor is turned slightly inward and I’m guessing he never had braces, not that he needs them. It lends character. I remember how crazy my mom was about our smiles, making us use whiteners. Her version of character was perfection. Next to McRae, I’d feel artificial—if I was the old Josie.

“You sounded pleased, I like it. It’s a miracle we didn’t wake your landlords,” he says.

His five o’clock shadow’s thick and it scratches my palm as I caress his cheek. “She’s out of town. There’s no one home.”

In a flash, he’s up one elbow. “What? You coulda told me that in the beginning. I kept worrying that at any time someone was gonna come out.”

“I think there might have been a moment when you were thinking of something else.” I run my hand downward, tracing his outline from shoulder to waist. "That’s why I didn’t tell you. Adds to the excitement, don’t you think?”

McRae’s lips curl into a smirk. “I’ve enough excitement every day. I’m a pilot, remember? I get into the cockpit with teens who lack focus.”

“True, but I bet you’re so good at that you could handle an emergency with your eyes closed. This was taking a chance not knowing whether you’re in control or not. I bet you don’t do that often.”

“I bet you do that all the time.” Strands of my hair stick together in wet clumps and cling to my breast. He gathers them up and holds them in his palm.

“I used to not. That’s why I move around a lot. My days used to be predictable and uneventful.” My how they’ve changed.

“Where’re you from originally? You never did tell me that.”

“I didn’t? Imagine that.” I laugh. I generally don’t like talking about my life before I split, but I can’t get my brain to focus and opening up to McRae feels easy, natural. “Connecticut. My parents and younger brother are there.”

“And the brother here is older or younger?”

“Older. He’s in Gainesville actually. Where are you from?” Knowing I can answer the question about Will makes me smile.

“Good old Daytona Beach. I’ve lived in some part of Volusia County my entire life and have only ventured out for work. I used to think about joining the Navy or Air Force but that was never really possible.” He says this while weaving my hair through his fingers, a gesture thick with intimacy and familiarity and I find myself leaning closer to him.

“Why not?” There’s a faraway look in his eyes, as if the ghosts of his past still cling. I wonder if I look the same when I talk about home.

“That’s a story for another day. From Connecticut, but I met you in South Carolina and your hotel badge said Washington. You’re now in Florida. You get around. And with very little baggage.” He lifts a brow.

“I’ve been trying to find my brother.” I slide my hand through the opening between his head and arms and cup the back of his head, stroking it gently with my thumb.

“The one here?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story too. Maybe better for another time.” Our shoulders are touching.

“Summarize it for me.” He picks up another strand of hair, adding it the bundle he has and continues to twist.

“Only if you summarize yours for me. You go first,” I volley.

He goes still and looks down at the strands of hair in his hand. “My mom was an addict and drugs got the best of her when I was thirteen. Vann was eight. After some time in foster care, we landed at our grandmother’s house, her mother, and she did most of her parenting with a belt.”

I try not to flinch or do the typical girl coo of pity. It would be insulting to him. Instead I burrow between his side and the mat, pressing my length to his, using touch to express that he’s wanted. I now understand why letting go and trusting others is so difficult. How often has that worked out for him?

“So you stayed because of your brother.”

“Yeah, our grandmother passed when I was twenty, and I petitioned the courts for custody and won.”

“Impressive.”

His eyes meet mine and hold. The brief glimpse of his deep pain leaves me aching. At twenty, I was given a brand spanking new BMW Coupe and keys to my own apartment because I’d finished my first year of law school top of my class.

“I’m sure it had more to do with too many kids already in the system and, unintentional, I’m sure, the gift of inheriting my grandma’s house.”

He’s partly right with his assessment. I’d seen the stats of cases similar to this in law school. The odds were in his favor because of the overtaxed system, but he still had to prove he was capable and reliable. Obviously he succeeded.

“Your turn,” he says and begins to twist my hair again.

“Will and I were always really close.” I shake my head, belying my words. “That’s an understatement, we were inseparable. My grandfather used to caution us about it. Encourage us to have different interests. But that never made any sense to me. He was my brother. What could be wrong with having so much in common with my sibling? Then a few weeks after he started...” If I say law school, it will create a series of further questions I’m not ready to answer. “His graduate studies, he had a car accident that changed everything. A day after he was discharged from the hospital, he was gone. Disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“Just like that.” His hand stops twisting.

“Overnight.” When he looks at me there’s only curiosity, and the lack of pity makes me feel comfortable enough to continue. “I tried calling and sending texts. About six months after he walked out, I get an email saying he’s OK but to leave him alone. Nothing else for another year and half.”

“And you’ve been searching for him ever since?”

I shake my head. “No, only the last two years.”

He stares at me, surprised. “My brother is my only family. If he were to just disappear I don’t think I could ever stop looking.”

A spark of anger flares inside me and I swat him on the back of the head and come up on one elbow.

“Hey,” he cries.

“You would if he’d sent you emails telling you to leave him alone. You would if he said he needed space, if you thought he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. I was seventeen when he left. Grieving for a loss so sudden it left me reeling. It may have taken me a while but I finally got it together.” I pour my secrets out in one breath, wishing I could suck them back in with a deep inhalation. I’m so ashamed I waited and went through the motions of life, stuck in the world’s longest pity party. But I can’t undo that. I have to keep trying to find a way to live with it. Unfortunately, finding Will didn’t provide instant healing.

Brinn bends and places a light kiss on my forehead. “You’ve found him now. Yet, don’t you plan on leaving?”

I shrug. “I don’t know what to do,” I whisper.

“Maybe you shouldn’t fight it. Overanalyze it.”

“Who says I am?” I’m unsuccessful keeping the defensiveness out of my tone.

“OK, maybe you’re not.” He smiles that adorable crooked grin and caresses my cheek with his thumb. “But if you were, maybe letting things happen naturally would get you the results you’re wanting.”

“Says the over-planner.”

“I didn’t plan this,” he says and moves his thumb to stroke the side of my breast, bring my body into a humming state. Although I’m not sure it ever stopped humming. I’ve heard people talk about amazing sex, about climbing to a high place and losing themselves, and I’ve never felt that before. Until now, yet it’s different. I don’t lose myself when Brinn touches me, when our bodies come together. Instead, I find myself. As if all the edges line up and I become seamless.

“Does it hurt to have this done?” He places the strands of hair across my breast and moves his hand to caress the art on my hip. He traces it across my stomach, below my navel, and stretches his fingers to stroke downward.

“No, not at all. It can be a pain waiting for it to dry.” I suck in a breath when his hand slips between my legs.

“Inking it must take hours.” His voice lowers. Even at a whisper it’s rough and deep and turns me on.

“Mmm. I’ve been lucky and found women who are deft and have been doing it a long time. They do the bigger pieces. I do the smaller ones.” Warmth builds within me, starting from my center, and spreads outward. I wouldn’t have described myself as insatiable. Willing, yes. But insatiable? Not until now. Lust is a motherfucker. If I don’t watch it, I’ll certainly become addicted to this guy and the feelings he gives me.

“You do it?” His gaze travels the length of my artwork.

“You do know it’s henna, right? They aren’t tattoos.” His eyes come back to mine, and clearly he’s surprised. “That’s why this one is fading.” I turn my leg slightly inward to show him the ones on my calf. The glow of the hurricane lamp doesn’t cast enough light to show that the dark stain has faded to a lighter brown.

“Henna? I never even considered that.” He moves his hand from between my thighs, runs it down my calf and then up again. He slides his hand up to my hip and turns me so I lay on my stomach. I cross my arms over each other, resting my cheek on them.

“It’s beautiful work. Why the vines and leaves?” His fingers touch my calves and ankles and I tremble beneath them.

“They mean perseverance. A reminder for me to stay on my journey until I have achieved all that I can.”

“And the flower on your lower abdomen?”

“That’s for the light within. Once I started this journey, I really started to figure out what it is I want from life and who I am. It’s still a process though.” I give a small laugh.

“I think you’re... Damn. I can’t imagine you getting any better.”

I come off my stomach and angle so my body is facing his. He moves his hand to rest on my hip. “That’s sweet of you to say, but you’re only looking at the outside.”

“Yeah, the outside is spectacular. But I’m talking about what I know so far. Watching you stand up for yourself and flipping that guy in the bar, how you can walk into any room and own it. You just pack up and move. Some days, I hate this town because I’m stuck here and my plane is just a bungee cord that lets me go only so far. Other days I don’t know if I’d live anywhere else.”

I bite my lip, turning his words over in my head, “I think everyone feels like that. I know I did. That’s part of why I’m here, right now.”

“I keep telling myself that whatever it is I want to achieve can be done anywhere, so why not here? That this is where I’m supposed to be.”

“Running an aviation school?”

“Owning it one day.”

“With a jackass mechanic at your side.” I tease.