The Lovers (12 page)

After, I am nearly numb. Audrey slides off me, and Jack grabs her and turns her onto her stomach on the bed. And as I catch my breath, he spreads her legs and slides his cock inside her. He begins to move, a fast, hard rhythm, fucking her furiously, his fingers digging into her hips.

I am barely conscious, but it's so hot, watching them together. My body is alight with need once more, but I am too far gone to do anything about it. I lie there and watch, their bodies coming together, slick with sweat, the acrid scent of sex heavy in the air.

But no matter how arousing the scene before me is, I am distracted by the thoughts going through my mind.

It's not me Jack is fucking. And I want it to be. Only me.

But I got myself into this situation. And I am the outsider. Just as I always am. And no matter how I'd love to think I am an equal in this trio, that's simply not the truth. I would love to be able to lie to myself, if even just for tonight. But I can't do it.

Reality is like the harsh light of day, blinding me. I cannot pretend that either of them is really mine. I don't understand still that I want them to be.

Audrey. Jack.

Jack.

Fuck.

I wake up warm, my body reflecting the heat of Audrey's sleeping form beside me. I'm glad she's there. Disappointed that Jack is not.

I don't know when he got up and left; I slept so heavily, and my limbs are still thick, weighty, my eyes scratchy, as though I slept drugged. Maybe I did. Drugged with endorphins, those happy opiates the brain releases during orgasm. I had enough orgasms to put anyone to sleep. I don't even know how many.

My sex gives a squeeze when I turn to look at Audrey. Her lashes are long and sooty on her cheeks, her skin flawless. Her mouth is pouty, innocent. I love knowing it's not, knowing what that mouth can do to me. I try to distract myself with these lovely thoughts, but I keep coming back to Jack.

Why did he leave us in the middle of the night? Maybe it's that he likes to sleep alone. Some people do. I used to prefer it. Until now. Maybe it's his way of disconnecting, as it seems to be for so many men. As it is for me, usually. But I want him here.

I feel oddly alone, suddenly, even with Audrey still dreaming
beside me, all soft, naked skin as she curls into my side. I don't understand it. My body is as sated as it's ever been, and yet I feel the low hum of arousal at the same time. I am full of contradictions this morning.

Turning my face to the window, I peer through the sheer curtains. The sky is clear outside, a crisp blue at only 8:00 a.m., which means the day will be warm. I'll welcome the heat today. It'll warm me up inside, maybe chase away some of this ridiculous melancholy. I should be happy; I know that. But I'm not.

I silently repeat my little therapy mantra: my response is not necessarily appropriate to the situation.

Is it?

I don't even know anymore. All I know is this sense of wanting, yearning. For Jack.

You cannot have him. May as well accept it.

When have I ever wanted anyone this way? Not even Audrey, with all her charm, her pull. No, the whole thing with Jack is different. Really irresistible. And a little insane. I've known this man for a week. I've just had sex with him, yes, but is it really anything more than that? I am being ridiculous.

This is going to make me crazy. Jack is going to make me crazy. But I don't want to stop.

She sighs then, a quiet rush of air from between her lips, and her eyelids flutter open. Her eyes are that deep, smoky blue, her fringe of black lashes almost startling in contrast. So beautiful. But she doesn't seem happy this morning, either. Her dark brows draw together and her mouth is more pouty than usual.

“Good morning,” I say, treading carefully, not sure where else to start.

“Morning.”

“Jack is gone,” I tell her.

“Yes. He usually is.” She yawns, stretches, lifting her arms overhead, the sheet slipping down to reveal her bare breasts. “Don't take it personally. It's just his way.” She sits up then, looking at me, an odd expression on her face. “You'll with me though, won't you, Bettina?”

A small thump of sympathy in my chest. “Yes. Sure.”

She smiles then, if a little wanly, and reaches for me, dragging me to her, kissing my cheek. “My sweet Bettina. Don't go anywhere, okay? Just…stay with me today.”

Her arms tighten around me, and I can feel her heart beating.

“Are you okay, Audrey?”

“What? Yes, of course.” She kisses me again, pulls away, smiles at me, but her eyes are shadowed now, that frown back between her brows. “Bettina, you like me, don't you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Really like me?”

“Yes. I really do. I wouldn't be here with you otherwise.”

What is going on with her? Why this sudden insecurity from the girl I thought was all cocky self-assurance?

“Tell me you like me better than Jack,” she says, childlike. And she looks like a child, so small and delicate.

“I…” The truth is, I don't know what to say to this. “I barely know Jack. We've spent several weeks together, you and I. You're the first woman I've been with. That means something to me.”

It's true. But I haven't given her the whole truth. I can't do it. She is too worried this morning. She seems fragile to me for the first time since I've known her.

She pulls me in and hugs me hard. “Good. That's good.”

I wonder if I've hurt her, sleeping with Jack, even though she seemed all for it last night. I had the impression it was her
idea. But what if she was only doing it because she knew Jack wanted it?

I wish I could ask, but I can't. Maybe I don't really want to know.

I sigh, settle into her embrace, bury my face in her neck, and she seems happy with that. And frankly, I am happy with that: her scent, her silky flesh, her long hair like a veil over my face.

We sit still together for a while before my body begins to heat once more, and I kiss her neck, trailing my tongue over her skin, moving up until I can capture her lips with mine. She's sweet, sleepy still, but soon we are full-on making out, kissing hard, hands all over each other: belly, breasts, thighs. We're both panting, and I'm on top of her, legs tangled, pressing our mounds together in the way she's showed me. Only a few minutes of rubbing and I'm coming against her slim thigh, pleasure surging through me, wave after wave. And I keep thrusting my hips, until she's coming, too, crying out, her hands digging into my shoulders.

My body is humming with climax, my limbs warm and weak, and I roll off her. She immediately pulls me into her side, whispering to me, “Stay with me, Bettina. You promised.”

“Of course I will,” I tell her, wondering if it's true.

As I was coming I was thinking of Jack. His face, his hands, the scent of him still in my hair, and hers. The feel of his mouth between my thighs. His cock inside me.

No matter what, it's really Jack I'm thinking of. I can't help it.

 

The early-afternoon sun is high overhead, its golden rays warming my skin, fighting the damp, misty spray from the ocean. The day is gorgeous, clear, just as I thought it would be, and Audrey, Viviane and I are in our bikinis, all of the
guys in swim trunks. Only Patrice is covered up in her usual khaki shorts, a lightweight white T-shirt and her hat as we sit together on the colorful Mexican blankets Viviane brought down from the house. Our sandals are scattered on the sand, along with a couple of small coolers holding ice and drinks. There's a striped umbrella stuck into the sand at one corner of the blanket, and Patrice has taken up residence under it on a low beach chair.

Audrey is sitting next to her, her dark hair in two long braids over her narrow shoulders. She's been silent all day, writing studiously on her legal pad, hardly looking up. I don't know what she might be thinking.

We showered together earlier, quietly, both of us a bit meditative, and there was no sex, for once. Maybe we were both sated after our quick orgasm this morning, after our little orgy last night. My sex feels full now, wonderfully used. But when I think about last night, which I seem to be doing every ten minutes, my body begins to pulse once more with desire.

I can barely stand to look at Jack, in his blue-and-white tropical-print board shorts, his tanned torso so beautiful to me, all long, lean muscles, his abs a tight six-pack. I know what his flesh feels like now, tastes like. I can still feel him beneath my hands, my tongue.

More…

But I have no idea if there will be more. If last night was some sort of fluke. If it will go back to being just Jack and Audrey. Or just Audrey and me, which would be nice, lovely. But Jack is the one I want. Too much.

It's not only physical, although the chemistry is nearly overwhelming, for me, anyway. But he's a good person. Smart, driven. A really great writer.

I really do need to stop. I've been warned, after all, about what kind of person Jack is. A free spirit. If anything more
happens, it will be some friendly and rather fantastic sex, and that's it. Why am I even hoping for more? It's so unlike me.

Maybe that's why I can't stop thinking about him. He is the first man to affect me in this way. Ever. But perhaps I should attribute it more to my own personal growth than Jack himself. I've met nice guys before, hot guys.

Never anything like Jack.

Okay. I really
do
have to stop now.

I pull in a deep lungful of sea air: salt and water and fleshy seaweed, closing my eyes against the sun. When I open them, there's a shadow cast across the blankets. I look up to find a very beautiful man standing at the edge of our group. Skin like chocolate. Gorgeous. His bare chest is perfectly smooth beneath his open, white linen shirt, flapping in the breeze. Perfectly muscled. He's wearing low-slung cargo pants rolled at the cuffs. He looks like a Ralph Lauren ad. And his eyes are the same dark brown as his skin, tilted a bit at the corners. His smile is dazzling as he greets us, his voice tinged with an English accent.

“Hallo. I'm Charles Denny. I'm your neighbor for the next few weeks, the next house down. I wanted to introduce myself.”

Everyone is introducing themselves to our new neighbor. We all recognize him; a well-known independent-film actor. Talented. Really great-looking. Spectacular.

Audrey has definitely noticed. She stands up, her body sleek in her bathing suit, her breasts pushed together in the halter-style top, the bright turquoise fabric showing off her olive skin, lighting up her eyes as she raises her sunglasses.

Her smile is even more radiant than his. “Charles Denny. Well, well. So nice to have you on our beach.”

She extends her hand and he grasps it in his, and I can feel the sparks fly between them, instant, fiery. And just like that,
I understand perfectly that the rest of us have ceased to exist for her. Me. Even Jack. And I remember what Viv has said to me about her, and Jack, as well, about that intense focus Audrey can aim at a person. I remember what it feels like to be the object of her desire, as recently as this morning. But now I know I won't have to keep my promise to her. Oh, no, she won't need me anymore today.

Everyone chats with Charles a bit, recommending places to eat in the area, discussing weather conditions. Audrey has remained on her feet, her hips swaying slightly as though in invitation. She is all lovely, oozing sex appeal, and no one can resist. It makes me want to sleep with her again, simply watching her, despite my obsession with Jack, who is trying to pretend he is entirely unconcerned, scribbling away on his pad of paper. But he is too focused on it, not at all his usual friendly self with Charles, who seems awfully nice and down-to-earth.

“Charles, how long will you be here?” Viviane asks.

“Through the end of August, I believe, unless something changes with the production schedule on my next film.”

“What are you working on?” Leo asks. I can see him looking Charles up and down, his steady gaze frankly admiring. I'm sure Charles is used to it.

“A small film about Rwanda. We shoot in Africa. It's a brilliant story, the best project I've had offered to me.”

“Wow. Africa,” Audrey says, her voice breathless, adoring. “Have you ever been before?”

“No, never.”

“It'll be quite an adventure. But I'm sure you've had plenty of adventures on other shoots already.”

He smiles, his dark gaze glued to Audrey. “A few, yes. Maybe I can tell you about them sometime.”

“I'd love that,” she says, flashing that dimpling smile at him.

Oh, yes, these two are smitten. And who wouldn't be? They are both almost too beautiful to be believed, with their gleaming smiles, their flawless skin. I feel almost ashen next to them. Insignificant. I glance at Jack; his gaze meets mine, and we exchange a look, acknowledging that we are both out of the picture. And I can almost believe he's feeling the same way about it as I am. But how is that possible? He is one of them, the beautiful people. And he isn't any more interested in a long-term relationship than Audrey is.

I want him to be jealous like this over me.

Ridiculous.

“I hope to see you all over the summer,” Charles says.

“You don't have to wait,” Audrey purrs. “Let me show you the beach.”

His smile widens. “I'd like that very much. If I'm not disturbing you.”

“Not at all.” Audrey looks at Leo. “Take my work back to the house for me?”

“Sure,” he answers.

Then she hooks her arm through Charles's and they walk off, toward the house Charles is staying in. It's a redwood-and-glass structure that sits back a bit from the shore, right next to our cottages, Jack's and mine. I look at him, and his dark brows are drawn together as he watches Audrey and Charles wander down the beach, talking, laughing.

“Well,” Viviane announces, “I think I've had enough of this sun today. Anyone else?”

“Yes, plenty for me, too,” Kenneth says, and Patrice agrees.

“I guess I'll go back up if everyone else is,” Leo says. “I could use a sandwich, anyway.”

“Me, too,” Viviane says. “You coming, Tina? Jack?”

“I'm going to stay a bit longer, I think,” I tell her.

“All right then. I'll leave the blankets for you. Jack?”

“No, I'll stay a little longer, too.”

I look at him, but his expression is unreadable. My heart hammers imagining he's staying to be with me.

Don't be stupid.

We sit quietly while the rest of our group trudges up the dunes toward the house. They're gone for several minutes before Jack gets up, staring out at the water.

“I'm going to take a walk,” he announces.

“I'll come with you,” I say, then immediately wish I'd kept my mouth shut. I'm not in the mood for rejection.

But he doesn't turn me away. Instead he says, “Yeah, come on,” holding a hand out toward me, helping me to my feet.

His hand is warm and large in mine, and I can't help but remember that heat on my skin. I shiver, feeling empty when he drops my hand and begins to walk in the opposite direction Audrey and Charles have taken. I follow, feeling a bit too much like a kicked puppy.