37. Paisley
It’s Thursday,also known as spa day for the women and chartered fishing day for the men. I wake up to a text from Cecily.
Girl. GIRL.
What’s wrong?
Don’t you mean what’s right? Klein is getting all kinds of traction. Likes, shares, comments, mentions. If this doesn’t get the attention of an editor, I will personally walk into their office wearing a sandwich board of his book cover and nothing underneath.
I’ll drive you. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.
How are things going on the island? Paloma said you’ve been incommunicado and she’s going to pour boiling water in your ear.
Toggling over to my long-running text conversation with Paloma, I type out a semi-serious threat.
I’m officially removing the tea kettle from the office.
I have a mini kettle in my desk.
FFS. How’s it going with the architect?
Very well, thank you. Architects’ desks are multi-purpose, did you know?
Very nice. Just stay off my desk.
How’s Word Daddy?
Very wordy. Very daddy.
I KNEW IT.
Don’t make it a thing.
Oh, but it is. It is a thing.
“I can’t believethe way Dad played cards with us last night,” Sienna says, stretching her legs out on the chaise lounge beside mine.
We’ve been at the spa for the last three hours. From head to toe, we are exfoliated, moisturized, massaged, and our nails are a neutral pinkish-taupe. The bridesmaids are finishing their last treatment. Sienna and I are alone in the nap room. So far we’ve pointedly ignored the topic of our interaction on the beach yesterday.
I push my sleep mask onto my eyes, and my view goes dark. “Weird, right? But good.”
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do if he starts being likable.”
“Hah,” I say. “I wouldn’t go that far. He managed to give Mom and Ben at least three stink eyes. Likability is still low.”
“True. They stayed far away from that card game.”
“Self-preservation,” I joke.
My dad had played four rounds of To Hell With Your Neighbor, a not-very-nice card game where each person is in it for themselves and invariably causes people to cry out in indignation. It was the most fun I’ve had with my dad in years.
We’ve been having a nice time today, so I decide to go out on a limb and ask, “How are you and Shane leading up to the wedding?”
My sister is quiet, and then says, “Fine. Why?” There’s a defensive edge to her tone.
“No reason.” I force breeziness into my tone. “It can be a stressful time for couples, that’s all.”
“Not us.” Her voice takes on a sharp, irritated edge. “We’re fine. Stress free.”
“Good.”
“By the way, I talked to Shane. I was wrong. He is not jealous.” She laughs, and though it’s melodic, it’s forced. “That was just me seeing something that’s not there and being dramatic.”
I’ve never been more grateful for a sleep mask in my life. I allow myself a massive eye roll, and say, “Glad you got that squared away.”
“Mm hmm.”
The door to the nap room opens, and I push the mask off my eyes to see who it is. The bridesmaids walk in, wearing robes and looking blissed out.
“Mimosas by the spa pool to end the day?” Maren asks.
I’m up from the lounge chair quickly, ready to be away from this conversation with my sister. “Count me in.”
One mimosa before I head back to Klein sounds perfect.
I stepinto my bedroom at the house at the same time Klein comes from the bathroom. He wears powder blue shorts, no shirt, hair glistening with damp. Heat blooms in my chest at the mere sight of him. This man is criminally attractive.
A smile springs onto his face the second he sees me.
“How was fishing?” I ask, watching him run a hand through hair that is a shade darker than normal.
“Good. I caught two King Mackerel, and an Amberjack.”
“I don’t know what that means, but”—I raise two fists in the air and shake them—“yay.”
Klein grins. “Shane caught a small shark.”
“Fitting.”
“How was the spa?” Klein comes closer, and I tip my head up for a kiss. Like we are a couple, and I’m arriving home.
“It was the spa. My muscles that were relaxed from my massage are already bunching up again.” Probably due to that conversation with Sienna. It’ll take more than a mimosa to work the irritation from my body.
A wicked gleam appears in Klein’s green eyes. “The massage wasn’t enough to relax you?” He takes a step toward me.
I back up playfully. He takes another step.
He wants to catch me? Well, guess what? I want to be caught.
“Unfortunately, the massage is only a temporary relaxation technique.” Another step back.
Klein grins devilishly. “Do you know of any other relaxation techniques with more lasting effects?”
“Possibly.” Another step. “You look like a predator.”
He’s close enough to grab me now. “You look like prey.”
My back meets the wall. My eyes widen, and Klein’s eyebrows lift once, dropping back down. “Gotcha.”
He leans in, nipping along my jaw, tasting my neck. “I missed you today. The ocean is bland compared to you.”
I laugh throatily. “It’s the ocean. Nothing can compare to that.”
He pulls back to look at me. “You do.”
My first inclination is to laugh off his words, to believe he can’t help but speak that way, but only two days ago he asked me to stop doing that. He asked me to believe that when he speaks like that, he means it.
So this time, I do.
“I missed you today. The nap room would’ve been way more fun with you.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Nap room?”
I nod.
His head drops, and he licks over my collarbone. “I would’ve locked that nap room door and showed you how I like to nap.”
My fingers stretch through his damp hair. “I think I have an idea.”
He leans right, locking the bedroom door with a simple turn of his fingers. “Let me get my point across.” He drops to his knees, looking up at me as he tugs my shorts down over my hips. They slide down my legs, pooling at my feet. My underwear joins them.
My tongue runs over my lips in anticipation.
“Do you know what’s coming Paisley?”
“Me,” I manage to say.
Klein smiles. “How do you always make me smile or laugh in situations like this?”
“It’s a talent.”
“So is this.” He leans in, pressing his nose to me. His hands are on my thighs, running their length. “Your skin is soft.”
I squirm as he runs his nose up and down me. Through my lust-filled thoughts, I register footsteps in the hallway. Then a knock on the door, only two feet away from where I am against the wall.
“Paisley?”
I look down at the top of Klein’s head, frazzled. He looks up at me. “It’s Shane,” I mouth, careful not to make any noise. My body is confused. It’s like I was running a sprint, and then somebody yanked on my collar.
One side of Klein’s mouth curls up, arrogant and possessive. He leans forward and softly kisses me. “So?”
“Paisley, are you in there?” Shane’s voice infiltrates my moment.
My head bobbles, my hands shake in front of me. What am I supposed to do right now? And Klein, well, he is not stopping. He is getting started.
“Answer him,” Klein murmurs, the words a vibration against me.
I swallow. “He-ey,” I call out.
“Can you open up?” he asks.
“Not right now. I’m… changing.”
“Are you alone?”
I look down at Klein’s head, moving up and down, then in slow circles. “Klein’s taking a walk on the beach.” I sound like I’m being strangled. Death by cunnilingus.
“Good,” Shane says, relieved. “Can we talk?”
Klein, mouth attached to my body, chuckles. “This isn’t a great time,” I manage to say, but only barely.
“Pais, please. Everybody went for ice cream and this is the only chance I’m going to get.”
“Let him talk, Pais,” Klein whispers, breath hot against me. “Nobody said you have to listen.”
Turning my cheek so it’s pressed against the wall and my mouth is closer to the door, I say, “I’m going to keep the door closed, but say whatever it is you need to say.”
From Shane’s silence, I gather that he’s thinking about arguing with me. The thought spends little time in my brain, however. Klein is doubling his efforts, devouring me. If it weren’t for him helping me stay upright, I would melt to the floor.
Shane speaks. “I thought you should know I’m having a hard time seeing you this week.”
Klein grips the back of my knee, urging my leg up and propping it over his shoulder, increasing his access.
“Uh-huh,” I respond, my voice jerking.
“I don’t know, Pais, it’s hard to explain. Maybe if I could say it to your face?—”
The handle on the door moves.
“No,” I bark.
Klein doesn’t let up. The man does not even pause. I don’t believe he entertained a single thought about stopping.
“Okay, okay.” Shane sighs. “Are you having a hard time, too? Seeing me?”
Klein inserts a finger, relentlessly lapping at me. My hips buck. A scream of Yes! sticks in my throat.
“Sorry”—eyes on the ceiling as I squirm—“Shane. We’re not on the same page.”
“Is it him? Is that what this is about?”
My hands run through Klein’s hair, nails scraping over his scalp. My blood is flowing to that one central point, the pleasure building on itself.
“It’s not about him,” I ground out, forcing the words. Pretty soon I will no longer have the ability to speak. “It’s. About. You.”
“Ouch,” Shane says, but it barely registers.
With his free hand splayed on my stomach, Klein holds me still as I fall apart. I shake. I convulse. I lose myself to the moment, to Klein. Sure, it’s his mouth doing the work, but so much of what he’s done for me so far this week has been emotional. It takes an already great orgasm and amplifies it, sending the high all the way to the tips of my toes.
“Yes,” I call out, slapping a hand over my mouth. Klein pulls back, grinning at me, lips glistening.
“What? Yes what?” Shane asks.
Klein’s face presses against my sex, and he chuckles into me. Why is that hotter than hot?
“Nothing,” I call out, my voice returning to somewhere closer to normal. “I’m hopping in the shower now, so, uh, bye. Nice chatting with you.” I make a face at Klein, silently saying I don’t know what to say, but that probably wasn’t it.
He laughs and goes to sit on the bed.
Shane doesn’t say anything else. I assume he’s gone. I don’t know, and I don’t care.
“You,” I say to Klein, stalking toward him. “You are a very naughty man.”
He falls back on the bed and holds out his arms for me. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Lifting his hips, I make quick work of his shorts. Wearing only my tank top from the spa, I settle onto him.
He grips my hips, pushing me down until I’m full. “There you go.” He rocks my hips back and forth. “Right where you belong.”
It is. It really is.