Chapter Nineteen
Megan’s overnight bag goes into the trunk alongside mine. I wasn’t sure which way it would go, but when she stepped out of the elevator carrying the bag, I couldn’t hide my smile.
She looks pretty in a long sundress with a denim jacket over to keep her warm. Her hair is pulled up, and she’s wearing heeled sandals. She smells like fucking heaven.
I’m not expecting anything from this, but I’m open to whatever she wants to do. The bag says a lot. I’ve already got Evan to reserve us two rooms, just in case.
Meg fills me in on her night with the girls and how Adam is in the hospital. I’ve only met the guy a handful of times and I was pissed with him the first time.
Jenna didn’t want him anywhere near here, but he wouldn’t go away. I inadvertently broke Sam’s rules trying to get the guy to fuck off.
Sam kicked my ass for it, but Jenna didn’t take offence at me grabbing her hips to get her into a better fighting stance. She knew what I was doing, and she was more than happy to get at the asshole .
Turns out it was a whole misunderstanding that had Jenna running away from him and now they’re together, happily so.
Still, I’m keeping an eye on him. Jenna deserves the world. He stepped up when Meg’s ex attacked them. And things must be good if she’s planning to move in with the guy.
When she asks me how my meeting went, I play off that it was just the usual pre-fight preparation and I’m sure I convinced her that was the case as I tell her about my friend and his inn in the Hamptons.
Truth is, we met about Marris’ bullshit. He’s ramping things up, and the press is eating out of his hand. Everyone wants me to make a statement, to fight back, but that isn’t my style and Sam knows it. We went round in circles for what felt like hours with the publicist who represents me.
That isn’t in my head space. I don’t need to get caught up in his shit to know I’m a good fighter. Hell, he might beat me. No one knows going into a fight what will happen, but I’m confident enough that every time I step into the ring, my goal is to win. To be the better fighter.
If Marris wants to work himself up into a frenzy, have at it, I couldn’t care less. I made it pretty clear last night that I will not be responding and my publicist won’t be doing it on my behalf either, even if the press is beating down his door.
Luckily, no one has got close enough to me to shove a microphone in my face. The fighting world is big, but it’s mostly insular. If you’re not into it, then you will not hear about it. It’s not like football or hockey, where the players are revered as super celebrities. Especially when they hook up with other famous people and draw a spotlight onto the sport.
That isn’t me. I’ve never been a press whore and I don’t intend to do it now.
Let Marris sweat, let him work himself up. It’ll fuck with his concentration and that will only benefit me in the ring. Where it matters .
He hasn’t mentioned Megan in any of his shit. I have watched it to make sure. Maybe that whole thing was a fluke, because Megan was right there. If he brings her into this, I might lose my cool. He’s just an irritant.
I’m more bothered by my team hassling me to respond, than the shit he’s spewing out.
We arrive at my friend’s inn a little after midday. He’s busy getting everything set up at the restaurant but comes out for a brief introduction and then his wife, Kelsey, shows us to our rooms. They’re adjoining. Meg didn’t comment, so I presume I made the right move.
After leaving our things, I suggest we head to the beach because the weather is nice. Megan agrees with a big smile and asks if I’m okay with her getting changed and grabbing some things.
“Of course, you don’t need to ask,” I say.
She bites her lip, then nods and goes into her room. I hate she feels she needs to ask permission to do anything. I want to help her get out of that habit. Especially over something as simple as changing into beach attire.
Speaking of, I dip inside my room and change out of my jeans into swim shorts and a t-shirt, then slip my feet into a pair of sliders.
Picking up my sunglasses, wallet and keys, I head out into the hallway to wait.
I’ve always loved this place. Sag Harbor is a charming, small town with plenty of stores, restaurants and beaches to choose from. Evan’s place is right by Haven’s Beach so it’s easy to walk to.
When the door behind me opens, I push off the wall and turn. I can’t help but run my eyes up and down her body. She’s wearing a new dress, a shorter one, more appropriate for walking in the sand. Her hair is still tied up, letting me see the straps of what I assume is a bikini tied around the back of her neck. She’s changed into flat sandals and has a big beach purse on her arm .
My eyes trail over her legs. They’re lean and toned from all the work she’s done over the last couple of months.
When my eyes lift, she’s giving me a knowing look, but I just wink and reach for her hand. I feel like a million bucks when she takes it and lets me lead her out of the inn.
We explore the town and she goes into a few stores, her eyes wide with excitement at the quirky places we come across. I can’t help but watch her, wondering if she has ever done anything like this in her life. It saddens me to think she hasn’t, but I’m also buoyed by the fact I’m the one who is giving her this first.
After grabbing a quick bite to eat, we make it to the beach. I’m not surprised when she pulls a beach towel out of that bag of hers. When I offered to carry it, she said I’d look silly carrying a bag with a giant embroidered flower on it. My reply was to shrug and take it, anyway. I don’t care what people think. It isn’t heavy, but it is stuffed with everything you need for the beach.
She offers the sunscreen, saying she already applied hers, which is disappointing. But I let that go when she kneels behind me after she’s instructed me to take off my shirt, and rubs the coconut smelling lotion all over me. She even dips her hand into the top of my waistband at my lower back, to make sure she gets every inch of exposed skin covered. That’s what she says when I arch a brow.
We talk about childhood vacations. I went to Europe a few times when I was younger and Dixon has relatives in Florida, so spent a few weeks each summer down there before I left for college.
Hers were mostly to local campsites near where she grew up. That is when I find out she is from Pittsburgh. She came to New York when she got away from Michael.
Meg doesn’t elaborate, but I get the impression she ran away and hid. I want to ask how that went down, how he found her again. I want to know everything, but until she’s ready, I hold my tongue .
We take a walk and grab some ice-cream from one of the trucks, then she suggests trying the water. I take her hand as we walk down together. The beach isn’t busy, but there are families around, a few couples sunbathing and some just wandering along.
Megan squeaks when she dips her toes in the water.
“Come on, it’s not that bad.” I step in up to mid-calf, coaxing her in after me. “It takes a few minutes, but you get used to it.”
I’m still shirtless and ready to dive in, but she’s wearing her dress. Around us people are swimming and splashing about in the shallows, some swimming further out. It’s a calm day, nothing to be worried about.
“Have you ever done this before?” I ask, aware that she might not have. She’d been in awe of the sand between her toes, and the smell of the sea air. I just figured it was because we’re out in the gorgeous weather.
“Nope, but I can swim.”
“Well, the best way to experience this is to just dive right in.” I waggle my brows.
She looks apprehensive, but with a little encouragement, I convince her to go deeper. Then eye her dress. She covers her mouth with her hand and laughs a little at not thinking to take it off. Slipping her hand out of mine, she walks back to our towels.
I turn to watch and stand stock still as she lifts her dress and pulls it over her head. Her back is to me, so she can’t see how my eyes greedily devour her body.
Fuck, she looks amazing. The swimsuit is a dark burgundy color that sets off her skin tone and her gorgeous honey colored hair. The bottoms aren’t skimpy but as she bends, I can’t help but stare at the curve of her ass, where it meets the top of her thigh. The top is modest, with a bra style catch at the back and the halter string tied at her neck. It covers all of her breasts snuggly.
Shit, I shift on my feet as she turns. All sound around me disappears and I remain like a statue, watching her walk towards me. I don’t want to be a perv, just staring at her, but I can’t help it. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“Joey,” she stops in front of me, water splashing around our ankles. “Are you ready?”
I snap out of my Megan induced trance. “Are you?” I ask.
Before she can do anything, I bend and sweep her up, then move into the water. She’s squealing and laughing, gripping her arms around my neck as the water comes up to my stomach. It touches her ass and she jolts, trying to climb up me, but there is no getting away.
I keep striding until she’s submerged up to her tits. My eyes drop to them, and I groan at how her nipples are poking through the fabric.
“Eyes up here.” She touches my chin and tilts it, but there is a coy smile on her lips.
I shift her and she hooks her arms around me, pressing her chest to mine. I drop her legs but take hold of her waist. We’re far enough out that she can’t touch the floor, but I still can, so I keep her held up. She’s shivering a little, so I pull her closer to me.
“You’ll warm up in a few minutes.”
She nods, then looks out at the water. “It’s so beautiful here.”
“Yeah it is,” I say, but I’m not looking at the beach, or the horizon beyond the water. I’m staring at her. Meg turns her head back to me and sees I’m staring at her. Her cheeks blush and her head dips. “Don’t hide from me, Kitten.”
Her eyes come up again.
I don’t know where that came from, but I kinda like it. She is like a kitten, timid but curious, playful, but sometimes distant. It suits her.
“You are beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs. This time, her eyes hold mine. “No one has ever said anything like that to me before.”
“That you’re beautiful? That’s because they’re all idiots. ”
She chuckles. “No, I mean… given me a nickname. A term of endearment, I guess.”
That makes my heart sore. I can’t imagine the names that the prick must have called her. I drop my head and kiss the tip of her nose. I’m about to pull back, but she catches the back of my neck and holds me there as she leans in.
We kiss for what seems like an age, and I wish to fuck there was no one else out here because those tits are just begging to be held but I’m a gentleman, I would never feel her up in public. Then she splashes me. I spin her around and our laughter fills the air. I feel like a fucking kid the way we play and chase each other, splashing around and kissing.
We separate to clean up when we get back to the inn later on. After another stroll along the beach and going back to a couple more stores, Meg had seen things she liked in earlier.
The restaurant is amazing and Evan has given us a great table by the window. He comes over and chats with us for a while, giving me a look when he sees me holding Meg’s hand. I’ve known him since college, was a groomsman at his wedding, and consider him a close friend, even if we see little of one another since he left the city.
It written all over his face that he’s happy for me. Every one of my friends has always said I’m never gonna settle down. Not that I’m planning to right now. This is new, it’s tentative. I don’t know where Megan stands on wanting to be in a relationship.
I’m also aware that in the coming days, I’m going to have to tone down on my time with her. We won’t be training together, but I do plan on still seeing her. It’s good we’re not fucking because I won’t know what I’m missing when it has to stop.
Jesus, thinking about fucking her has my dick reacting. It’s a good job I’m sitting at a table. I doubt Evan would be thrilled to see me with a semi while he talks about the tribulations of inn ownership to a very interested Megan .
After the meal, we take another stroll through town, but no more shopping, just walking and holding hands. It’s not that late when we get back to the inn and come to a stop outside of our rooms, but she looks tired from the excitement of everything we did today.
Megan’s skin is flushed from the sun, freckles have bloomed across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones. She’s glowing and I fucking love how happy she looks.
I can’t fucking help it. I crowd her against the door to her room and kiss her, knowing this is the best I’m going to get right now. Meg is like putty in my hands, which are desperate to roam but stay firmly at her waist. Eventually, I pull back before it goes too damn far, and I get carried away.
Her lips are wet, parted and her eyes hooded as I step back. Does she look disappointed? I’m still not sure it’s time. I don’t want to rush her. So I say goodnight and see her into her room, then head to mine.
Then I pace. Back and forth, my dick protesting every step. I have to put a hand over it and squeeze the tip. Stopping, I tip my head back and close my eyes. Fuck, I’ve never jacked off so much in my entire life.
My pants are unzipped and hanging off my hips and my dick is in my hand. I groan as I glide my hand up and down it, trying to get some relief from this pent-up sexual tension.
When a knock comes at the door, I freeze and glance towards it. It could be Kelsey, Evan’s wife. But it could be Megan. I haven’t made a move to the door, nor let go of my dick, when another knock sounds.
It isn’t coming from the door to my room.
It’s the adjoining door to Megan’s.