Wet: Part 2 (25 page)

“Sit up. I want to see you. I
need
to see you,” he whispered, breathlessly. She sat up and braced her hands on his chest. “You are so beautiful.”

“Stop saying that.” She closed her eyes and continued to move back and forth. She moaned. “It feels . . . so warm and tickly.”

“I’m not going to last. It’s been too long. I’m going to come.” And he did.

She dug at him even harder, biting her lower lip and scrunching her nose as she ground herself against him, taking unexpected pleasure in watching him lose himself. It made her feel so powerful to think she’d done that to him.

His head fell back, his chin jutted forward, and she stared at his long neck and Adam’s apple. His glorious mouth gaped open, his lips forming a perfect O. He moaned, silently, his breathing forceful and erratic. Before he finished, he looked back at her again with awe. 

He reached to pull her down to him, wanting to finish with her in his arms. He shivered as he crushed her to his chest.

“I love you,” he said between breaths. He held her tight, too tight. She would have felt smothered by how tight he held her . . . except the alcohol had taken its toll. She’d fallen asleep. The second she felt safe in his arms and heard a few of his heartbeats, she’d given in. He held her a few seconds longer as he pulsed.

“I do love you, Danarya. I never want to let you go.” His breath and heartbeat gradually slowed to normal and he drifted off to sleep, thinking about how beautiful the world had finally become.

oOo

Paul stirred just before dawn. He didn’t think much about why Rhees still lay on top of him. He put his arms loosely around her and closed his eyes again, ready to get back to sleep. Two seconds later, his eyes popped open in horror.

“Shit.” He felt her against his bareness. “Shit, shit, shit!”

He felt her dress under his hand and it gave him some relief—she wasn’t naked. He slid his hand cautiously down her back.

“Shit.” Her dress lay bunched up around her waist. “Oh, God! No, no . . . no, no, no.” It all came out so fast. Her butt was covered, but with nothing more than a pair of thin, silky panties.

“Fuck.” He exhaled hopelessly. “
Please
. . .”

He gently rolled, not wanting to wake her, but he had to see. He turned her over on her back and carefully peeled himself away from her hold, amazed he didn’t wake her. She normally didn’t sleep so soundly. He sat up, made a face, dreading what he knew he’d possibly discover, and finally checked. Remnants of him were all over the bed, him, and . . . his face fell into his hands and he begged one more time, “Please, no.”

He needed to compose himself so he could continue his inspection. He looked Rhees over again, closer. Her panties were still in place, one consoling detail, a glimmer of hope, but he could see himself all over them as well. He knew how fast and easily he made it inside . . . panties were no obstacle for him. He felt sick.

Another test—he almost didn’t dare.

Yes! Thank you, God!
There were no bloodstains on the sheets, and to his relief, on her. It made him feel guilty, inspecting her so thoroughly, but he had to know. So far, the lack of blood gave him the courage to check himself. Paul moved his penis around, every direction, and finally looked up at the ceiling with a grateful groan.

He rubbed his eyes with both hands and massaged the muscles of his face. He let out another quiet moan. He stood and pulled his boxer briefs up, and then his jeans, and walked into the bathroom.

He leaned both hands on the counter and stared at himself in the mirror. He saw the hickey on his Adam’s apple and groaned.
Look what you’ve done.
You should have let her leave—she was going home. She could have been safe . . . from you, but you couldn’t let her go. Look what you’ve done.

oOo

A couple hours later, seven o’clock in the morning, Paul woke again. Rhees leaned over the toilet, throwing up. All the things he might have done—
did
do to her, flashed through his mind and revolted him again. 

“Blech!” He had to shut out the sounds she made as she convulsed and the contents of her guts splashed into the water.

“You all right?” His voice came out lower than usual. 

It appeared she’d emptied her stomach and had nothing left to heave. She finally noticed him sprawled out in the bathtub, fully dressed, with a pillow and blanket.

“Why are you sleeping in the tub?”

“I love sleeping in bathtubs. I can’t help myself.” His head cocked to one side and he studied the faucet in the tub, not really, but it looked that way.

She groaned. “How much did I drink?”

“Too much!” he snapped, angrier than he meant to be, but then his tone softened as he absorbed the blame. “Me too.”

She sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, staring at him, looking concerned.

“Rhees, do you remember last night?”

She thought for a moment. “I’m drawing a blank on pretty much everything after we danced.”

“Which time?”

She laughed but then groaned. “Oh, my head hurts too much to laugh.” She closed her eyes and thought about it some more. “Okay, I remember showing the gang our dance.” She smiled. “Mm, it was nice.” She quieted for a second and then laughed again, quieter to keep the throbbing to a minimum.

“I remember you and the guys dancing on the bar. You were so . . . mmm, yummy.” She opened one eye and glanced at him to see how he’d react to her description, testing their new, not-pretend boundaries—they’d yet to define what the boundaries were. He closed his eyes as if he didn’t like hearing it, and she wished she hadn’t said it. “Then Taylor ordered everyone some iced tea. It’s all a blur after that.”

“It wasn’t iced tea, Rhees. A Long Island Iced Tea is a cocktail made with just about every kind of alcohol known to mankind. You had no business drinking one of those—I should have known better—but
I
was too drunk to pay attention.” He rubbed his face, another sign of his bad mood.

“That was after the Zombies Taye ordered earlier, and the champagne—shit, Rhees, after last night, your liver’s as pickled as mine.” He frowned, pursing his lips a few times.

“It must have tasted good if I drank it.”

“We both drank everything regardless of the taste. By the time we got to that point, taste didn’t matter anymore.” He leaned his head back and he stared at the ceiling. “Aw Rhees . . . I messed up. I
really
messed up.”

She crawled over to the tub and put her hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

His head fell forward again and he covered his eyes with his hands, trying to rub the whole incident away.

“Oh, Dani Girl . . . I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He shook his head slowly, over and over.

“Paul. Tell me what’s wrong. It’s killing me to see you like this. I want to kiss you and make it all better, but I have puke-breath.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “I don’t want you to kiss me.”

“I understand. In spite of how much I love your mouth on mine, I wouldn’t kiss you if
you
had puke-breath either.”

“Did you seriously just say you loved my mouth on yours?” He looked up at her, incredulous. He hissed and then hung his head again, defeated.

She watched him make angry faces and she listened to his labored breathing as he struggled with whatever he struggled with.

“Are you going to keep doing that or do you think you’ll get around to telling me what’s wrong?” she asked. He reluctantly rolled his head so his eyes met hers.

“I’m no good for you. I wish you’d never walked into my life.”

She pulled her hand from him as though she’d been bitten. She’d seen this mood before, but after the zip line, she thought she wasn’t supposed to see it again. Instead, he’d become a roller coaster, up and down, back and forth. She backed away and pulled her knees to her chest, curling into a ball. She wouldn’t look at him.

“Look at how much I’ve already changed you. I don’t want you to change, but I’m slowly dragging you down to my level. That’s the last thing I want. You’re perfect. You’re so lovely and innocent, and I don’t want to change you, but it’s inevitable if you’re going to be around me.”

“You’re breaking up with me,” she rasped. It was her turn to shake her head slowly, over and over.

Hearing her put it that way shocked him. He struggled to breathe; she did too.

“No,” he finally choked out. He closed his eyes again.
I should, if only I could
. He knew it would be best for her. Being with him put her in constant danger, but still, he’d never bring himself to do the right thing. “But we need new rules.”

The despondency evaporated, and she willingly looked at him again.

“New rules? Okay.” She seemed to perk up.

“From now on, we can’t . . . we can never, both, get drunk, at the same time again. Understand?”

She nodded enthusiastically. Apparently she thought that an easy enough rule, but then she looked disappointed when he continued. She thought he’d finished, but he was just getting started.

“No more kissing in bed, in the bedroom, period.” He said each item as it came to him, not really thinking it through, but he desperately brainstormed, trying to convince himself it could work. 

“Or when we lay down . . . anywhere. We have to stand up if we’re going to kiss.” He reconsidered. “Hell, even standing isn’t safe with me.” He stared at her, warily, and for too long before he continued. “No kissing when we’re alone, got that? Only PDA from now on. No more private intimacy.” He stared at the ceiling, thinking. “We start using two sheets. We’ll each have our own, like the bundling bag in that movie. No more skin touching skin in bed.”

“But, snuggling . . . the nightmares. You know it’s . . .”

He sighed. “All right, snuggling is all right—but
only
when you have nightmares. That’s where double sheets come in, to keep us from having too much skin contact. You should get some pajamas, real ones—flannel.”

She laughed, interrupting his rant. “I am
nawt
wearing flannel in the Caribbean.”

He shot her an icy glare, thinking her disagreeable when he was only trying to protect her.

“I’m from Utah. I’ve survived twenty-four winters in the Rocky Mountains. You, on the other hand, have lived your whole life in the heat and humidity.
You
can wear flannel jammies, not me.” She glared at him, holding her ground.

“Okay, no flannel, but . . .” A trace of desperation appeared in his tone. He seemed a little stumped.

“Geeminy, Paul. You’re all over the place this morning. Are you planning to tell me what’s wrong?” 

“You think
I’m
all over the place,” he shouted. “Last night, I was all over
you
. I still am!”

She didn’t like how brusque he sounded, though she had no idea what he meant. 

He rubbed his face again and she could see his distress.

“Look at your panties.”

It took her a second but she turned her back to him and checked. She could see it, feel it, but still didn’t know what it meant.

“That’s me. That’s my dried cum, all over you.” He watched her warily, waiting for her reaction.

She humphed, thinking it through, and not giving anything away as to how she felt about it. “So why are you in the tub? If it’s that bad, if we already—what good did you think sleeping in the tub was going to do?”

“I don’t know.” He seemed to realize she was right, but only just at that moment. “I honestly don’t remember. I can’t remember a fucking thing.”

She tried hard not to let on how satisfied, relieved, she felt. Somehow, she knew it wouldn’t go over very well with him to admit how grateful she’d feel to have it over with. And if it happened when she’d been too drunk to cringe, flinch, wither away from him, or scream for him to stop—she hoped she hadn’t—all the better.

She really couldn’t remember. She looked at him again, sure he would have stopped if she had. She’d heard the Coitus Club gossip about some of his drunken induced, not-so-flattering behaviors, but none of the other girls ever made it sound like a bad thing. They definitely weren’t afraid of him because of it. On the beach the night before last, he’d personally admitted he could be forceful at times, and it worried him, for her sake.

She pinched her lips into a tight line to keep from appearing too content.

“I came too fucking close!” His swearing steadily increased—a sign of his frustration. He’d tamed his language so much since they’d been together, but sometimes, when things slipped beyond his control, he reverted back.

“I don’t even know how close I came. Fuck! I can’t remember. I was too fucking drunk! Shit, Rhees. This is serious. I’m all over your panties, all over you. It’s too close to—I didn’t plan to let myself get anywhere near you, like that.” Paul’s intensity had increased to yelling by the time he finished.

They both startled when they heard a loud bang on the wall. Someone in the room next door yelled for them to shut up. Paul rubbed his temples and sighed, but it made him calm down.

“I don’t think I did,” he said quietly before he launched into another one of his fast thinking, hard-to-follow rants. “I hope to God I didn’t. I don’t believe I did. You still had your panties on, but I can get around those without taking them off, so that’s no assurance, and I found semen on both sides of your panties, inside and out, but the fabric is sheer, maybe it just seeped through.”

Dizzy from the roller coaster ride that was Paul when he was disappointed in himself, she looked off at a spot in the corner, waiting for him to ride it out until she had a thought.

“Could I be—” She paused and glanced down at her panties again. “Could I get pregnant?”

His body went slack and the color drained from his face. He hadn’t thought of that. He’d stopped carrying condoms months ago as a deterrent to keep him off of—out of her. Of course he hadn’t worn one.

“I don’t know.” He was fraught with disdain for his own behavior. “It depends on what I did—”

“It depends on what
we
did. We, Paul, we,” she scolded. “There’s semen all over my panties, inside and out. That means it could have gotten inside me, right? Even if we didn’t actually do it? My mom said that could happen when she gave me her own version of Sex Ed since I didn’t participate at school.”

“Technically, yes, in theory.” His own mom had warned him of the possibility, but curious, he’d looked it up as a teen. That scenario didn’t rank high on his list of concerns. “It’s not impossible, but people all over the world are messing around every day. There’d be a lot more virgin mothers running around. I’ve never met one, have you? We’d hear about it, besides in just the bible.”