Chapter 21 Sophia
I can’t believe those words came out of my mouth. But with the way he’s looking at me, his eyes roaming every inch of my body with so much hunger, and the way his hand feels against my skin, I’m ready to throw it all out of the window for one more night.
“Blue…” He lets out a pained groan. “Choose your next words carefully, otherwise?—”
I interrupt him. “Kiss me.”
His eyes land on my parted lips, and he licks his own in anticipation. Contemplating. Wondering if I mean it. I must be losing my mind, but the need rooted deep in my bones is impossible to ignore.
I let out a slow huff. “I chose my words already, yet you’re not?—”
I can’t even finish the sentence, because he eats the distance between us, our lips colliding in a fierce, desperate kiss. My hand finds his shirt, and I fist it as we fall onto the sand, kissing each other desperately, like we’re each other’s only source of air. He gets on top of me, careful not to put any weight on me as he swipes his tongue on my bottom lip, demanding entrance. I eagerly part my lips, and he wastes no time to crash our tongues together. I let out a moan he eagerly swallows like he wants to savor every sound that comes out of me. The ache between my legs intensifies as one of his hands finds my outer thigh and grips it, wrapping my leg around his waist. His knee presses against my center, close enough to give me some friction, but nowhere near enough of what I truly need. Need clouds my brain, and I start to shamelessly grind against his knee, hitting just the right spot on my throbbing clit.
His lips travel down my neck, and just as he had said, he starts kissing and nipping the soft flesh as his other hand finds the strap of my dress and pushes it down, exposing my breasts and peaked nipples to the summer brisk air.
“Goddamn,” he growls, the sound going straight to my core. “Your tits are fucking perfect.” Without another word, his mouth latches on one of my nipples while his hand plays with my other breast, squeezing it as his tongue keeps lapping and flicking over and over. His hand fits perfectly against my breast, like I was made for him and his touch.
That’s a crazy thought.
“Oh, God ,” I moan.
His laugh, low and husky, makes my skin prickle. “No God around here, Bella? 1 . Just me, playing with your perfect tits as you grind against my knee, desperate to come,” he mumbles, hovering his mouth over my nipple, his hot breath against my soft flesh like a wonderful inferno.
I bite my lip, holding back a whimper. This is the last thing we should be doing, but it feels too good to stop.
His mouth closes around my nipple again, and he sucks on it once, hard . I try to stifle my cries with the palm of my hand, but he swats it away, clicking his tongue.
“I want to hear every sound that comes out of you. I want to hear how good I make you feel even though I’m barely touching you.”
Before I can process what’s happening, he flips us effortlessly, his back sinking into the sand as he guides me to straddle him, his growing erection sitting right against my aching core. I know I must be making a mess of his jeans right now, because the fabric of my underwear is lacey and thin.
“Grind on my cock, baby. Make a mess of my jeans and make yourself feel good,” he murmurs before darting his tongue and licking the column of my neck with one languid, torturous stroke.
“Oh, fuck ,” I moan breathlessly. The feel of his tongue against my skin is hot and warm, making my body break out in goosebumps.
“You’re wishing I was licking your pussy instead, aren’t you?” He speaks in a sweet, taunting voice.
“ Yes ,” I grit out through another desperate moan as I keep grinding against his erection. I forgot how big he is, and even with all these layers of clothes between us, I can feel every inch of his throbbing cock hitting against my clit over and over again.
“Don’t worry, Blue.” His voice is so deep and unrecognizable, it’s doing wonders for my growing need. “I plan to feast on your cunt one of these days until you’re begging me to stop. Then I’m going to make you fuck my face, because make no mistake—I’m desperate to fucking drown in it,” he growls.
His words urge me to continue grinding hard and fast as my orgasm builds rapidly. My lower back tingles, and Lorenzo somehow knows the perfect way to send me over the edge by grabbing my nipples between his thumb and index finger, playing with them until my orgasm explodes, making me cry out his name. As the orgasm keeps overtaking my body, he grips my ass so hard, I’m sure he’ll leave some bruising. He starts grinding against my pussy, seeking his own friction. The fabric of his jeans rubbing deliciously against my thin lace feels so damn good, and knowing he’s just as desperate for me as I am for him is so hot, another orgasm rolls through me as he lets out a guttural groan, his legs shaking from his own release.
As I’m riding down my high, reality crashes against me like a strong, cold wave.
Fuck. This escalated too damn quickly.
We dry-humped in the middle of a fucking beach. What the hell is the matter with me? What about our deal?
Oh, God. No. No. No .
My body starts to tense, and he frowns, trying to lock his gaze on mine. “Hey, are you okay?”
I quickly stand, adjusting the strap of my dress and brushing the wild strands of my hair away from my face. Of course, they don’t comply and fall in front of my face as always, making me irrationally irritated. Without a word, and like the coward I am, I run toward the staircase, almost falling flat against the concrete as I find my way to the inside of the villa. Lorenzo tries to close the distance between us, calling after me, but I’m too embarrassed to look at him. To face him.
Before he can get any closer, I run to my room, shut the door in his face, and plummet to the floor. I lean my back against the door and look up as my heart starts beating violently, asking myself what the fuck did I just do.
I got no sleep last night. I tried to get some writing done, but my brain was scrambled. I kept replaying everything in my head, because apparently, torturing myself is one of my new favorite pastimes.
The kiss. The dry-humping. The heart-to-heart conversation we had. A lot happened last night, and I don’t know how to even begin to deal with it. I’m so embarrassed. After all the huffing and puffing I did about keeping things professional, I go and do something stupid like this. My mistakes will, without question, bite me in the ass like they always do.
Reluctantly, I drag myself out of bed and step out of my room. Still groggy but drawn by the enticing smell of coffee, I head into the kitchen. Lorenzo is leaning against the island counter with a cup of coffee in his hand and wearing a pair of dark Levi’s, a green linen button-down, and a pair of—I do a double take to make sure I’m not losing my mind— white Converse? Even with a simple outfit, he looks so put together and—unfortunately for me—handsome. Heat creeks up my cheeks at the memory of everything that happened yesterday. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to be around him for God knows how long now that we have to stay a few more days.
I somehow find the strength to stumble over to the coffee pot, open the cabinet in front of it, and grab the largest mug I can find. I pour myself a generous amount, not bothering with sugar or milk—I’m too eager for the caffeine to kick in. I take a big gulp, only to spit it out immediately, my tongue burning from the scalding hot coffee .
“ Fuck ,” I murmur with a pained groan, darting my tongue out.
Lorenzo shakes his head with a laugh. “You should have checked first. That was reckless of you.”
“What’s reckless is how hot this coffee is,” I exclaim through an exasperated breath.
“What can I say? I like my coffee extra hot.”
I place the coffee mug on the counter with a loud thud, the coffee spilling on my hand, burning me. Great . I’m all over the place today, and it has everything to do with the man in front of me who gave me two delicious dry-humping orgasms and nothing to do with the lack of caffeine.
“That’s ridiculous,” I hiss, snatching a paper towel to wipe up the mess. “Were you raised by heathens?”
“Some would say that.” He shrugs casually, hiding his smirk behind his cup.
I prop my elbows on the counter and shoot him a glare, resting my cheeks on the palms of my hands as a small huff escapes my lips. “Now I have to wait a hundred years, because you drink coffee that’s hotter than hell .”
He grabs my mug and dumps the liquid in the sink then rinses it and places it in the dishwasher. “How about this? I’ll buy you a cup of coffee on our way to our destination.”
“And our destination is?”
He shrugs, opting for silence with a knowing smirk.
I shoot him a glance and roll my eyes. He’s so cryptic about the stupidest things. I can almost guarantee he does it because he likes to mess with me. There’s no point in arguing about it, because I know the chances of him telling me are slim to none.
Uhm, hello? Are we going to ignore the big elephant in the room ?
“We need to talk about what happened yesterday,” I blurt.
He leans against the counter casually, crossing his arms and looking at me expectantly. After a beat of silence, he says, “If you expect me to apologize, it’s not going to happen. Because I’m not sorry.”
I should find his brutal honesty endearing, but sometimes it’s just too much—and that’s coming from the girl who’s equally as blunt.
I let out an exasperated laugh. “It can’t happen again, Lorenzo. If we’re going to spend this summer together, it has to remain strictly professional.”
A heavy silence hangs between us, thick with tension. His gaze roams over me, the intensity of it setting my body ablaze. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and a part of me aches to be the one tasting him instead.
Seriously, Sophia. Get a grip. Buy a vibrator like a normal person and stop thinking about these things.
“Fine,” he replies with a simple shrug.
I take a step back, a little shocked. Huh? I thought he was going to put up a fight. There was no denying what happened yesterday was crazy but hot.
As if reading my mind, he continues, “I told you I would follow your lead. The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.”
His reply should make me feel at ease; instead, a pang of disappointment hits me out of nowhere.
You have to make up your damn mind, woman.
If I have any chance to survive him, it has to remain professional. I have no other option.
“Good,” I reply shakily.
He nods with a boyish smile that does nothing to calm my racing heart. “Now go get ready, we have places to be. ”
A resigned sigh escapes my lips as I walk back to my bedroom. “Give me thirty minutes,” I say before disappearing back into my room to take a shower.
I’m honestly too tired to do anything today, but I’m still excited to see what new behind-the-scenes things I’ll get to witness. Despite everything that has happened, spending time with Lorenzo isn’t the worst thing in the world. And if we overlook the whole dry-humping fiasco, that moment of honesty he had with me yesterday almost felt like an olive branch. He’s the type of guy who doesn’t like to share anything about his life. Not willingly, anyway. And I will never force him. But it kills me to not know why he thinks like that. How can a man who’s so successful, always has a smile plastered on his face, and loves being the life of the party talk like this about himself?
I brush my hair and put it in a messy bun, rolling the wild strands of hair with my index finger in hopes of taming them a little. The humidity and heat are unbearable, and I can’t stand having my hair down another day. I’ve always loved my long hair, but when I’m in hot places like these, or during summertime in general, I always regret it. I dig through my bag, looking for the comfiest, weather-appropriate outfit, and end up with some jean shorts and a graphic T-shirt that says Born To Read, Forced To Work . I laugh, remembering Isabella gifting me this shirt as a joke. Who knew the grump of the group had a sense of humor?
I grab my phone and shoot a quick text to Mom. Typically, I talk to her every day, but yesterday was so hectic I forgot.
Me
Hey, Mom. Sorry I didn’t check in yesterday. I’m in Panamá (long story, I’ll tell you later). How are you?
Mom
Hi, honey. How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to check in with me every day? I’m fine. And Panamá sounds lovely.
Me
Did you take your medications? Did Bailey bring you the refills?
Mom
Yes, she did. And I’m taking the medications, I promise.
Me
Did Amelia call again?
Mom
Stop worrying about your sister.
Me
I’m not worrying about her. I just want to know if you’ve heard anything else.
Mom
I haven’t. Now go enjoy Panamá. Send me pictures! I love you.
Me
I love you too!
Walking out of my bedroom, I bite my bottom lip as I contemplate asking her if she’s lying to me, but I think better of it. I don’t want to upset her.
Amelia went radio silent, and that unsettles me. She’s scheming something, I just don’t know what. Or maybe she got back together with Miles. I wouldn’t put it past her. Their relationship didn’t start with the greatest foundation, and it has only become more and more toxic.
I walk outside, and Lorenzo is leaning against a royal-blue Jeep Wrangler without the top with his legs crossed, wearing a pair of low bridge-fit Ray-Ban sunglasses.
“Wow, you look like a live-in Ken,” I say, my eyes roaming his outfit. I bite my bottom lip, trying my best to contain my laughter.
He takes his sunglasses off and places them on top of his head, rolling his thin, almond-shaped eyes at me. “I knew the glasses were too much,” he mutters, walking to the passenger side and opening the door for me.
The proud and stubborn side of me wants to tell him I can open my door, but I shut up instead. I’ve never had someone open a car door for me. And now I understand why women love this. You feel like you matter, even when it’s something so simple. I’ve never known what that feels like. When I was dating my ex, I was practically his mother—always the one taking care of him. I paid for the dates and helped him pay for his apartment and bills. It’s honestly embarrassing, now that I think about it. A level of pathetic I don’t want to succumb to again.
I thin my lips as I hop on the Jeep. “I think what sealed the deal were those white Converse and this.” I tap the car twice with my palm. “Groovy wheels, brother,” I say through a loud laugh, making a peace sign.
He shuts the passenger door and walks around, hopping into the driver’s seat and closing the door with a huff. “I’ve never wanted to flip you off so bad until now. Be glad I’m a gentleman.”
I snort another laugh, pointing my index finger in the air before replying. “ You can’t handle the truth! ”
He looks at me with an eyebrow raised, the one with the tiny scar that I’m dying to touch and ask what’s the story behind it. “You just quoted A Few Good Men , didn’t you?” he asks, a smirk etched on his perfectly shaped lips.
His smirk draws an earnest smile from me in return. It’s a strange feeling to smile and laugh because I genuinely want to, not because I’m trying to convince others I’m perfectly fine. My heart tugs deep in my chest. I shouldn’t get used to this. Real, heartfelt smiles have been rare for as long as I can remember. The fact he’s one of the few people who can make me really laugh so often should make me question. But who am I to be questioning things right now? God knows my life has been anything but ordinary lately.
Not only do we share what most people would consider one of my most annoying quirks, but it’s also turned into this little game between us—a game I probably enjoy more than I should. While I hear alarm bells around me, telling me to get as far away as possible from this situation and whatever is developing between us, I drown those thoughts instead and focus on staying in the moment. Lorenzo brings fun into my chaotic life, and it’s a welcomed reprieve.
Before I can reply, he lunges forward, closing the distance between us, and I freeze, not knowing what he’s going to do. A part of me wishes he’ll say fuck the deal and kisses me. Instead, his hand reaches for my seatbelt. His forearm brushes my chest slightly, causing goosebumps despite the hot weather. Then he clicks the belt in place, making sure I’m secured .
“Just want to make sure you’re safe.” He flashes one of his killer smiles and the stupid dimple on his left cheek deepens.
Oh, God. This is going to be a long day.
With a normal-temperature coffee in hand, I stand in front of a quaint little boutique displaying a We’re Closed sign, but that doesn’t deter Lorenzo from knocking on the door.
“Why are we here?” I ask, tilting my head to read the boutique’s name.
He looks over his shoulder, locking his eyes with mine. “Is that your question of the day?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Obviously not.”
The door of the boutique opens, revealing a tall woman with perfect blonde hair. She looks so put together in a light-blue summer cami dress, her wavy hair immaculate. I’m not usually one to feel insecure around other women, but standing here in a shirt that was given to me as a joke and my hair in a messy bun with stray strands everywhere, I can’t help but feel it for a moment. That inevitable sting of inferiority when you compare yourself to a beautiful woman, especially one who has something you wish for—legs for days and the perfect height.
She flashes her perfect smile and waves us in. I hesitate, looking around but not moving.
Lorenzo is halfway inside the store when he stops and turns around. “Why are you standing there? Come on.” He waves his hand for me to join him inside the store.
I cross my arms, frowning. “It would be lovely if you would clue me in as to why the hell we’re here.”
He looks up and closes his eyes for a moment, shaking his head, then strides back to me, placing his hand on my lower back and gently pushing me inside. I hate the power a simple touch from him has over me. It’s unfair. And did I mention already that I hate it? Because I do.
Why are you lying to yourself?
I’m not lying. It does annoy me—among other things I’d rather not put into thought.
The inside of the boutique is cozy and inviting. Dreamcatchers and macrame hang from the ceiling, swaying slightly. The walls are decorated with framed prints of feathers, mandalas, and inspirational quotes. Wooden shelves display an array of accessories—beaded necklaces, chunky bracelets, and wide-brimmed hats. The clothing racks are filled with dresses, patterned skirts, and fringed tops, and most of the clothes have earthy tones and soft fabrics. There are lots of lace details and embroidered designs. A small seating area in one corner has colorful, patterned cushions and a low wooden table stacked with fashion magazines and lavender incense.
I turn around, gaping at him in disbelief. “Am I supposed to give you fashion advise so you can buy clothes for whatever bimbo you’re fucking while we’re here?” The audacity of this man. I know he likes to mess with me, but this is too damn far.
Did you think he was going to keep to himself this summer because you’re around? Did you think you were special?
“You look extremely cute when you’re jealous.” He gives my nose a gentle bop .
“You’re breaking our deal with that comment.” I take a step back, hitting him on the shoulder. “And I am not jealous,” I hiss.
He fake coughs, trying to hide his laughter. “Whatever you say, Blue. We’re here so you can choose whatever clothes you need. It’s my fault you didn’t pack correctly.” He shrugs. “So, shop away.”
I look around, grabbing one random dress and searching for the price tag. “These don’t even have price tags. Which can only mean one thing—I can’t afford it,” I say, putting the dress back.
He walks to the small seating area, sitting on one of the patterned cushions. “I had them remove all the tags, because I knew you weren’t going to say yes without a fight,” he replies without looking up, grabbing a random magazine and opening it on a random page.
Damn. Am I that predictable?
I lift my chin slightly. “I am not your charity case.”
He looks up, and when his gaze finds my face, he gives me a knowing smile, like he was expecting this already. “Never said you were.”
“I can’t accept any of this.”
I’m all too aware I sound annoying, but I don’t do well with thoughtfulness. It makes me uncomfortable. Like I don’t deserve it, because, well— I don’t .
His eyes flash with mischief as he stands, deliberately looking me up and down. My heart hammers wildly, begging to be let free, and my breath hitches at the intensity of his stare. He scrubs his face, hiding his smirk. His muscles flex as he does this move, and I have to force myself to look away to avoid ogling him. I need to get laid, because all I seem to be doing lately is checking him out when I know damn well what happened yesterday was a one-time slipup and he’s off-limits .
“Tell you what,” he bargains. “If I choose something and it fits you, you’re going to be a good girl and shop without any complaints. Deal?”
That good girl comment goes straight between my legs, making my core tighten and my cheeks blush.
“Good luck with that,” I reply weakly.
“Do we have a deal or not?”
I nod without a reply, entertaining yet another stupid deal. There’s no way he’s going to figure out my size just by looking at me.
You forget he also felt all of you last night.
I was just forgetting about that. But thanks for the reminder *thumbs up*.
He starts looking around the boutique until he finds a light-blue dress with spaghetti straps and a ruffle hem then walks to the dressing rooms and opens the curtain, hanging the dress inside. Refusing to meet his unrelenting gaze, I walk inside the dressing room, close the curtain, and quickly start taking my clothes off to try on the stupid dress.
The dress hugs my waist and breasts perfectly, and the length is right, too, about two inches above the knee. It’s flowy and perfect for the hot weather.
With slumped shoulders, I open the curtain and glare at him without saying anything.
His whiskey-colored eyes darken as they hungrily take me in. Our eyes lock, and he licks his bottom lip then bites it gently. The move is so incredibly hot, it creates a pool between my legs. The urge to straddle his lap and bite his lip myself is strong. Too strong.
“We’ll take it in every color,” he says to the boutique owner, not breaking eye contact. He leans back into the cushion, crossing his legs and giving me an amused smile. “Guess you have to be a good girl now, huh?”
I keep making deals with the devil, but the worst part? I keep enjoying every second of it.
I cross my arms. “We do not need it in every color. I’m only going to grab this and another dress. This is already too much.”
“You can grab whatever you want, it won’t make a difference. I already bought the whole store,” he replies casually.
I do a double-take, zeroing my eyes on him. “What do you mean you bought the whole store ?”
He frowns. “Is that not self-explanatory?”
“Lorenzo,” I say, exasperated.
“I bought every item in this store since I wasn’t sure what you were going to grab.” His tone is so light, you would think we’re talking about the weather, and not about the fact he dropped thousands of dollars and bought a whole boutique.
I stand there, gaping at him, dumbfounded. My brain is still trying to catch up and form some sort of response.
He tilts his head, mirth playing in his eyes. “Cat got your tongue? That’s a first. I’ll have to buy stores more often if that’s all it takes.”
“For the love of God, don’t do that ever again,” I blurt. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I wanted to take care of you and make sure you had proper clothing for the remainder of the trip.”
There he goes again with that word. It rolls off his tongue with such ease, like it’s nothing, and yet every time he says it, something in me recoils. I don’t know what to do with the idea of someone looking after me. My skin prickles just thinking about it. I’ve always been the one to handle things, to make sure everyone else is okay. I’ve always been a fighter. A fierce protector. It’s a role I take pride in, even when it gets exhausting. But the worst part? Deep down, there’s a tiny, traitorous part of me that actually wants to let him.
I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. I’m at a loss for words, and the last thing I want to seem is ungrateful, so instead, I whisper, “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
“Thank me by getting that dress in every color, because you look absolutely stunning.” His tone is so sincere, it sends a swarm of butterflies fluttering through my stomach.
1 ? Beautiful.