Chapter 13 #2
Now we’re on the way to the pool. The humidity outside doesn’t seem as stifling today.
Maybe it’s because of the foot massages.
Or the orgasm. Or maybe it’s the man walking next to me.
Our fingers interlace together at his insistence.
When people recognize him as part of the staff, he doesn’t let go. In fact, he tightens them so I can’t.
“They serve any other good drinks here? I think I’m all mai tai’ed out.”
“They’ll make you whatever you want. There’s a ‘drink of the day’ at each of the bars throughout the resort, but since I don’t make a habit of hanging out at the swim-up bar on the regular, I couldn’t tell you what they are.”
“You should make that more of a habit. Seems like it would be a fun thing.”
“I’ll let you know after this afternoon. Since there will be some fun being had at the pool today.”
“You joining me in day drinking?”
“It will up the fun factor. Though it’s not like fun’s been lacking in the past few days, pumpkin.”
A guffaw jumps out of me. “You had to ruin the sentiment of the compliment with that pet name.”
“Heard it too, but was already committed. Couldn’t stop it. I’ll keep working at it.”
I adore his dedication to finding a pet name for me. Even if it goes nowhere past this week. It’s the thought that counts.
Through the gate, I spy Erica and some of the other members of the wedding party.
Naomi, the girl who originally introduced me to the indie romance community, lounges on a nearby chair.
Happiness lights my insides. Though we keep in touch fairly regularly, we live in different parts of the country and don’t get to hang out often.
“You can meet Naomi. She’s the girl I was telling you about at dinner the other night, how I first got involved with my current job.”
“The one in which you stare at handsome men day in and day out.” His expression remains the same, but there’s a jealous undertone to his jab.
I slap his T-shirt-clad chest. “There’s more to my job than that.” While I think he’s only partly joking, I can’t help but turn it back on him. “Says the man whose job it is to watch rich women parade around in short tennis skirts. I’m merely drooling over images of these men.”
He opens the gate, gesturing me in first. “And yet, I haven’t seen any drooling over the dreamboat occupying your bed as of late. I better up my game.” His voice lowers, not just the volume but the tenor, too.
Heat overwhelms me, my cheeks flaming the same color as my red bikini. We’re still far enough away from my friends that they won’t be able to see it, but still. I don’t need more questions than I’m inevitably going to get.
“Juli! Hey, over here. We saved you a seat.” Erica’s voice rings out above the din of the crowd.
For the middle of the August day, the pool isn’t very crowded. It’s our group and a few scattered people occupying other chairs. Scanning my eyes over the group surrounding Erica, I can’t help but notice it’s only the girls. I don’t know if that’s a coincidence or intentional.
“Um, you may not be welcome,” I whisper to Cameron, slowing our strides.
“Why the heck not?” Surprise leaks into every word.
I want to tell him delicately, yet “You have the wrong parts,” trickles from my mouth.
Very PC, Juli.
I expect some pushback from him. I was the one who dragged him here.
He would have been happy to stay in the bubble of my suite.
The only reason I left is because I feel bad.
I’m here to hang out and celebrate with Erica, and I’ve barely seen her.
Granted, she’s been busy with wedding things I’m not involved in, which helps, but guilt nibbles at me.
“Haven’t heard you complain once about my parts.”
His quip elicits a smile. “Damn you. That was a good one.”
“Thanks. I’m here all week. But for real. If it’s only women, I’ll make myself scarce,” he follows it up with, his tone more solemn. “How long do you think you’ll be?”
“A few hours at minimum.”
“What are the odds you’ll be sober when you’re through?”
I contemplate his question. I want to have dinner with Preston, and there’s no way I can show up tipsy for that. The bastard’s trying extremely hard to blow me off, and I’m pissed. Not a good combination when I’m catching up with old friends at the pool on vacation.
“I have no good answer for you.” We’ve reached the area where my friends congregate, one chair cleared for me. As suspected, it’s a statement—no guys allowed. “Hey.” I address Naomi first, waiting until she stands for a proper hug. “Get up here,” I bellow when she doesn’t take the hint.
“Jeez, girl. What if I don’t want to hug you?”
“You’ve got no choice.” She finally stands, wrapping her arms around me. She’s always stood much taller than me. “I miss you.”
“We talk all the time.”
She’s not wrong. If we don’t chat daily, it’s at least every other day. She’s still one of my best—and favorite—authors. And not because we are so comfortable working together by now. Because she was my friend first, and neither of us is afraid to tell the other one the truth about something.
“You owe me drinks. At least three. I’ve come to collect.”
Pulling out of my arms, she spots Cameron. “Who’s the fine piece of ass you brought with you to a girls’ only pool party?”
How did I miss the “girls’ only” memo?
Cameron.
“Hi, Cameron Fairbanks. Good to meet you. Juli here has told me all about how she discovered her hidden talents for indie authors.” His statement insinuates so much, shit he doesn’t know about, but what gets me is the way he’s retained what I’ve told him this week.
His listening skills are on par, something I’ll have to reward him for later tonight in the bedroom.
Naomi takes his outstretched hand, giving it a hearty shake. “Naomi Whitmore. I know nothing about you. Where’s Juli been hiding you?”
“Woman’s got me on a short leash. She likes to keep me all to herself. I’m on parole for good behavior. Though my liberation seems to be short-lived. I’ll meet you back in the suite tonight, shortcake?”
The man is so freaking smooth, such a freaking charmer. And I’m so under his spell, disoriented in a Cameron-induced fog.
“Huh?” is all I can manage.
“No worries. You can make it up to me later. Did you find the key to the handcuffs?”
Oh.
My.
God.
I thought my face was red earlier? Nope. Color me vermilion.
“Cameron,” I hiss under my breath. It’s mostly for show. Sure, it’s embarrassing, but it’s also hot as fuck. And the man knows it all too well.
“Right. I’ll take my leave now.” He bends down, his mouth finding my ear.
“Too far? Sorry, not sorry. Text me when you’re done, and we’ll figure out the plan for later.
” He pauses a minute, then continues, “I don’t have anything else to say, but I want them to think I do.
Pretend I’m saying something funny. Or sexy. Or downright dirty.”
The more he speaks in my ear, the more turned-on I become, and the more I’m afraid it shows on my face.
Part of me doesn’t want him to stop, but the part that wins out is the one who gripes, “Enough. I like it too much, if you know what I mean.” I extricate myself from his reach, but not before smacking my lips to his, temporarily forgetting where I am, who he is, and who is watching.
But in this moment, I’m lost to him, and he belongs to me.
And damn it, if I want to kiss the man, I will.
Cameron breaks the kiss. “Later, sweets. You, me, and other things. Don’t drink too much.” He swats my ass before tossing out a, “Nice to meet you, ladies. Have a splendid afternoon,” before sauntering off, a little more swagger in his hips.
The man is pure sex on a stick.
And he knows it.
I’m barely sitting down before I’m accosted with questions.
“So you and Cameron seem chummy.”
“Girl, you work fast.”
“Holy hell, that man is fine.”
“What happened to what’s his name?”
“Does he have a brother?”
“Whoa. Slow down. One question at a time.” I look around at five faces homed in on me. To the two girls I don’t know, I say, “Hi, I’m Juli. It’s nice to meet you.”
They mumble their names, cut off by Erica asking what’s on everyone’s mind: “You’ve got some ’splaining to do, Lucy. Spill it, girl.”
And I do.
Over Sex on the Beaches—the drink choice was on purpose—I fill them in, interrupted every few minutes by a different girl asking questions.
I explain how I knew Cameron from when we were young—keeping our one night to myself—and how we reconnected this week.
I omit the nitty-gritty details, leaving it up to their imaginations.
Everyone’s single except Erica and one bridesmaid.
And of course, there’s Naomi, the romance author.
She asks the most questions, trying to get me to spill my secrets.
I stay as buttoned-up as possible, though my excitement shows on my face.
“He seems just as into you,” Naomi declares, while the other girls nod along to confirm.
I don’t doubt it. In the small interaction they saw, he never let me get too far away from his touch.
“I’m milking it for everything I can this week while he’s a willing participant. It’s definitely a week to remember.” Erica makes a tsking sound, as if I’ve forgotten the real reason I’m here. “Saturday’s all about you, Rica. Until then, let me enjoy my sexy boy toy.”
“What happens after you go home? Will you continue it?”
The question comes from Naomi, reading too much into the situation with her own romantic twist.
“We haven’t talked beyond Monday when I leave.
But I doubt it. It’s not as if long-distance relationships work.
Besides, it’s convenient because we’re both here.
I highly doubt he’s looking for anything other than casual.
” The words taste bitter as I voice them.
I don’t want this to be a casual thing, a onetime follow-up to our first time.
But beyond the physical distance separating us, we don’t have long-term potential.
Cameron Fairbanks isn’t the settling-down type.
He’s too much of a person who wants to only have fun.
Is that true? What do you know about what type of person he is with relationships?
The answer is I don’t. I’m basing it on nothing beyond us not talking about what the future holds.
“Would Preston mind?”
“What?”
The question gets asked again. “Preston. Would he have a problem with you being in a relationship with Cameron?”
Another thing I’ve never considered.
We hid our fling as teens because we didn’t want anyone in our business. A onetime thing that didn’t amount to anything else.
Except this week.
If I thought it was hard to forget the one time, how is it going to feel trying to let go of this week?
Suddenly, I’m all sorts of melancholy. I’d blame the drinks, but I’ve only had two. And I loaded up on food, so I wasn’t drinking on an empty stomach.
“Earth to Juliana.”
I’m not sure who asks the question. “Hmm?”
“Where did you go? We kind of lost you there for a moment.”
Clearing my mind and my throat, I stutter, “Nowhere. I’m here.” Physically at the moment. Mentally and emotionally? Hard no.
Needing a drastic change of subject, I sit up and face Erica. “Nervous about Saturday?”
Thankfully, she takes the bait. I don’t know if she knows I need it or if she does. At the moment, it doesn’t matter. The heat is off me, and I can sink back into wallowing in my misery.