Unwrapped (5 page)

Mia's shoulders wilted. She loved her friend to death, but
sometimes it was really hard sitting next to her in the bright light of day on
a gorgeous beach with a billion slavering men all around, just waiting to do
her bidding.

Derrick handed her the lotion and she took it automatically,
covering her legs in half-hearted swipes, her eyes unfocused. His calves sat so
close, she kept brushing his leg hair with her arms and the backs of her hands
when rubbing the sunscreen into her own legs. The contact was like a
flash-burn. Competing boom boxes blared music along the sand, but all Mia could
hear was the thudding beat of her heart.

Finished, she handed the bottle back to Derrick, but instead
of taking it, he said, "Do me? I pulled a muscle the other day, and it
hurts to reach my back."

Concern banished her internal musings in an instant. He'd
seemed fine carrying her up the stairs earlier, but. . .

"Sure," she said, "are you okay?"

"Yeah." He flipped his right leg over her head and
shifted around her left side while she scooted behind him to take his place,
the choreography smooth from long practice. Now her legs wrapped around the
outside of his. The coarse texture of his leg hair tickled the inside of her
thighs and zinged electric shocks down to her toes. "Just sore."

"Tell me if I hurt you anywhere," Mia instructed,
doing her best to ignore the physical sensations making it hard for her to
breathe evenly.

She squeezed sunscreen into her hands and rubbed them
together to warm the lotion before slathering it across his broad shoulders,
tapering down his back to his waist. Had his back always been this cut? His
muscles rippled and flowed beneath her stroking fingertips. His tanned, satiny
skin glistened like heated caramel.

Delicious.

Mia
hmmmm'd
with
pleasure, then caught herself and cleared her throat instead, as though warding
off a cough.

At her side, Allison tipped her enormous sunglasses down her
nose to give Mia a very strange look, her mouth quirked in amusement.

"What?" Mia asked.

Allison shrugged, noncommittal, and replaced the shades,
dropping her gaze back to the paperback best-seller in her lap—an erotic
romance Allison had read at least five times.

Mia returned her concentration to Derrick's torso, running
her hands over the backs of his arms and up to massage his shoulders. Then the
sides and back of his neck, kneading the tight knots she found there. His head
dropped forward on a groan of contentment, so she continued, hoping it would
help loosen his sore muscles.

She worked her way down his spine, hesitating only a moment
when her hands reached below his waist. His trunks had pulled down slightly
from sitting, exposing a swath of pale skin.

Spreading her fingers wide, she stroked them along that
firm, pale band and out to his sides. Glided them up, under his arms and around
to his chest, her mind caught in the lovely web of sensations spun by his skin
beneath her fingers.

He was so taut, so smooth, his abs so delightfully tight.
The slide of his skin hummed like a craving in her blood. She wanted to touch,
and touch, and touch. His body, sitting so close to hers, caught between her
thighs, pumped heat like a generator.

Her own skin went over-warm, tingly and electrified, and she
felt short of breath, as though she'd been running in the surf. The muscles in
her thighs trembled, so she shifted to lay them against Derrick's sides for
support, trapping him more firmly between her legs. He shifted his hips
backward, bringing his buttocks tantalizingly close to the heat of her desire.

Hardly aware of what she was doing, she rubbed her calves
gently against him, urging him closer still, while her busy hands smoothed and
stroked their way across his lightly furred chest.

She wanted,
needed
,
that contact, needed his hard, firm body pressed tightly against her center.
Needed it like she needed her next breath.

Mia closed her eyes and leaned forward those last critical
inches, pressing her pelvis against his buttocks and her breasts against his
back. Then yelped in shock as the contact with her aching core and rigid
nipples finally snapped her out of her sensual fog.

Her hands jerked, accidentally catching a puckered male
nipple with her fingernail. Derrick jolted and caught his breath as goose bumps
prickled across his skin.

Snatching her hands away, Mia flushed with heat.

"I'm so sorry, did that hurt?" Scrambling
backward, mentally calling herself every version of idiot she could name, she
cringed inwardly. What the
hell
had come
over her? Why hadn't anyone warned her rebounding could take such a drastic
turn? She'd never had this problem after any of her other breakups.

"No," he said, but his voice sounded hoarse,
raspy, nothing like his usual deep-velvet tone.

Mortified, Mia scooted back even more, dropping the
sunscreen bottle beside him without a word. She clambered awkwardly to her feet
and brushed her hands down her sides, shaking, a mass of confusion. Which way
to turn? Which way to go? But her legs, water weak, wouldn't obey her command
to move. She trembled in place, waiting for the raging blush to fade from her
skin, for the tingling in her fingers to cease. To regain the feeling in her
legs so she could move.

Escape.

Derrick's head stayed bent, and he seemed to be breathing
hard, his back heaving like he'd run a race. Had she hurt him? Allison stared
at her silently, hands paused in mid-stroke on her calf, lips pursed.

"I-I think I'll head in for a swim now," Mia
managed, and bolted toward the water on legs that wanted to collapse.

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, what must he think of me? What
the hell was that? Jesus, I was all over him right in the middle of the beach!

Wanting to bang her head into a brick wall, she kept her
gaze focused on the crashing waves. She walked straight into the bracing water,
dodging families and shrieking teens dunking each other in the surf, and kept
going until she was deep enough. With a hopping step, her hands clasped
overhead, she dove beneath an oncoming wave.

Mia stayed under as long as she could, seeking invisibility,
and surfaced well beyond the first wave, just in time for a second to break on
top of her head. It pushed her down in a tumbling whirl, but she welcomed the
rush of water filling her eyes and ears, cooling the heat of abject humiliation
from her skin.

Surfacing again, she swam farther out, skirting the line of
surfers waiting for the next set. Going for casual—all's well here, pay
no attention to me—she waved to the ones she knew, only half-listening to
the crew's chatter as she swam past. They called out surf conditions in lingo
she didn't understand and made fun of all the wannabes watching from the shore
with envy, endlessly waxing the boards they'd never ride.

Maybe Derrick hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary.
They were long-time friends, after all. They were comfortable and cuddly and
touchy-feely with each other on a regular basis. Barry had even complained
about the way they sat all over each other all the time, like puppies rolling
around, he'd said. It didn't mean anything. It was nothing unusual.

But. . .

She'd rubbed her hands over his body like a lover,
possessive and sexual. Practically predatory, like having foreplay right there
on the beach.

God.

Mia dunked her head beneath the water, tilting back to wash
the hair out of her face. Derrick's t-shirt billowed around her. Swiping drops
of chilly seawater out of her eyes, she scrubbed her hands over her
still-burning cheeks. How could she ever face him again?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Derrick put the lotion away, whistling tunelessly, a goofy
grin nearly cracking his face in half. He ignored Allison's pointed stare and
repeated
eh-hemming
while he watched Mia
moving farther out into the water.

What an interesting turn of events.

Inordinately pleased, he dropped back onto his elbows, one
leg kicked over the other. His free foot swung to the beat from one of the boom
boxes pounding out its bass nearby, at complete odds with his whistling.

He'd been prepared to wait several weeks, maybe even a month
or two, for Mia to get over Barry before making his move, but. . . His body
twitched with pleasure, remembering her hands gliding over his skin, the sound
of her fast, heavy breathing in his ears. Maybe convincing her to give him a
shot would be easier than he'd hoped.

Even if it was only physical attraction, he could work with
that. Start there.

Instead of killing Barry, he'd have to thank the man. If
Barry hadn't dumped Mia last night, who knew how much longer they might have
stayed together while Derrick waited for his chance with her. Finally, it was
his turn. He would do whatever it took to make her happy.

Slender fingers snapped in front of his nose, making him
jump. He turned his head to find Allison's giant sunglasses two inches from his
face.

"Geez," he said, shoving her back with a light
push on her shoulder. "What?"

"You know what," she answered, a supercilious
smile dancing across her face.

Derrick waved a hand at her dismissively, keeping his lips
sealed, and went back to watching Mia, now halfway to the first buoy. But he
couldn't stop the answering grin.

"Uh-huh," Allison said. "I hope you know what
you're doing,
boyo
. And you better not
hurt her, or I'll take you out, permanently."

In answer, Derrick reached over and plucked the sunglasses
off her nose, grabbed her pointed chin and pulled her in close so she could
stare directly into his eyes, all without saying a word. He held her there for
perhaps thirty seconds, her deep blue eyes plumbing the depths of his, until
she nodded, apparently satisfied.

"Okay, then." She leaned closer to give him a
smacking kiss on the lips. "I love you. I love Mia. And I'm really, really
happy for you guys. Now I'm going to pick me out a boy-toy from the meat
section over there and head home. Go get her, tiger."

And with that, Allison rose gracefully to her feet,
stretching luxuriously. Derrick swore he heard synapses misfire in male bodies
all across the beach. Evidently oblivious, she gathered her things and stepped
off the blanket. She'd gone maybe four paces before three muscle-bound guys
shoved their way to her side and offered to carry her belongings, practically
panting at her feet.

Derrick sized them up, determined she could handle them,
and, catching the wink she tossed him over her shoulder, shook his head. Maybe
she carried some sort of whistle only a certain type of guy could hear.

But with Allison occupied, that meant he and Mia had the
house, and the evening, to themselves. He could commence the wooing unimpeded.

He'd take it slow. No matter how big an ass Barry had proven
to be, she'd need some time to get past the breakup. He knew that. And he had
no problem with her no-sex rule, if she chose to impose it between them. He
wouldn't be happy about it, but he'd waited this long. Another few months
wouldn't kill him. He had the long view clearly in mind. If she still needed
convincing, that was okay.

Derrick knew exactly what he would say.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Beyond the crash of waves pounding toward shore, Mia floated
on gentle swells. Her fingers brushed lazily through the water while her mind
worried the problem of Derrick, turning it this way and that for examination.
The shouts of the swimmers, the surfer dudes' jocular insults, the cries of the
seagulls overhead all faded away, muted by distance and the hushing of the
ocean. She could almost imagine herself alone in the vast, peaceful sea.

But she felt anything but peaceful. Her body had freaked
out, no question, and was still—every time she thought of her hands on
Derrick's flesh, a new zing rippled down her spine. The folds of her sex,
barely hidden beneath the tiny scraps of bikini fabric, were plumped and
sensitized, begging for his touch. Even, dare she think it, his mouth.

God.

Her whole body quaked at the vision of Derrick's
sun-streaked head between her thighs.

Where had
that
come
from? She'd never experienced anything like these sensations pelting over her
skin and down deep in her center. Clearly, twenty-five years of waiting for her
first sexual experience had finally come to a head, and poor Derrick had been
the handiest victim.

But her body. . .

Despite everything, including the September-cool temperature
of the water, her body's demands for release were growing, not abating. She
might have reached twenty-five, technically a virgin, but she knew what to do
to take care of herself. She'd gone to college, after all. And with Allison for
a best friend, she probably knew more about the mechanics of pleasure than even
some extremely experienced women.

Steamy books and movies, girls' nights out—they'd
helped to fill in the blanks. She had her little toy—and a vivid
imagination—when she got desperate.

It wasn't the same.

No man had ever grazed his knuckles across her bare breasts
or twirled her nipple to peak with his tongue. No man had slipped his hands
inside her panties to fondle her to climax.

She'd never allowed anyone access. But now. . .

Oh, God, she wanted Derrick's hands on her right now. Not
just any man's. Derrick's. His topaz eyes burning into hers, his mouth and
hands claiming her. His body plunging into hers, making her his, driving her
past endurance.

It was wrong, she knew it. He was her friend. Off limits.

Friend, friend, friend
,
her mind chanted.