7. Bikini Rebellion
There’s something deeply wrong with me.
My body is freezing from the coolness of the lake, as well as the fact that I’m as good as naked in front of the man I’ve been sleeping next to for the past four days. I should be catering to that, maybe apologizing and reaching for the towel that’s only a few inches to my right.
Instead, I’m standing firm and asking him to take a dip with me
My heart bangs in my chest, spreading anxiety through my body. I’mnervous, even more nervous than I was back in my hotel room when I was contemplating marrying Ben. There’s more at stake here. Nothing about Ben ever evoked this side of me, this sensual, lustful person that enjoys being looked at the way Blake is doing now.
And that’s all shades of confusing.
I’ve spent the last seven years with Ben, believing that all there is to sexuality is the two minutes we’d spend tangled together.
But with this man, everything is different. New. Exciting.
Even having to fake falling asleep beside him while all my nerves are on high alert, waiting—hoping—that he would come close enough to claim me. Fantasies flooding my head where I imagine going down on my knees and taking him in my mouth. Endlessly thinking of taunting him with my body, of watching him snap free of the control he clings to so dearly.
The past four days have been hell, him leaving me day and night to myself, so I am stuck in a strange little cabin with all of my regrets and thoughts. Maybe that’s another reason I don’t mind standing like this, talking to him. I have been alone for so long I actively crave human interaction.
But this isn’t going to be a regular conversation. It’s going to be one that will be had while Blake examines every inch of my body for his pleasure.
Somehow, I’m actually looking forward to that. Even to the fact that Blake, as stoic as he is, could take me up on my offer, get rid of his clothes, and swim with me.
My stomach buckles at the thought of seeing him naked. But I feel something else even stronger.
Empowerment.
This is kind of uplifting, me being open and going for what I want. Especially when the object of my desire looks like he’s only a few seconds from blowing.
But he surprises me.
“Put on some clothes.”
I’m taken aback. There is no way.
“Put on some clothes. Now.” He takes a menacing step closer. Even though the bulge in his pants is bigger than I have ever seen it, he sounds harsh.
I swallow the embarrassment welling up in my throat.
This is exactly why it’s just easier to not expect things.
The feeling of empowerment is swiftly receding, to be replaced by my default setting; the one of a girl unsure of herself and desperate to please. I’m nowhere near the sultry singer who knows how to make men cave by merely looking at them. I might like being desired by Blake, but I don’t know anything else. I’m unsure of how to break him out of his shell.
At heart, I’m still the awkward teen whose dad forced her into singing about love. I might have convinced myself that breaking free from the wedding and getting shut in with someone who wants me meant I could be more, but I was wrong.
I should reach for the towel before this gets any worse. But there’s an undercurrent of rebellion piling up in my heart as well, making it impossible for me to back down as easily as I always do. Just like at the wedding, I’m suddenly sick of remaining within a tight little box, of conforming because it’s the easiest thing to do.
I’ve been stuck here alone for four days because of Blake’s asshole behavior. And yeah, it was hard. I went from every second of my life being scheduled to not knowing the next step. But once I got past the self-loathing and boundlessness, I realized something else.
For the first time in years, I am free. Not just free to do anything I want to, but free to be anything I want to be, as well. My dad is probably still out there, destroying my reputation, but I kind of appreciate it. It means that upon my return, I can write my own story.
The first night I came to the cabin, I stood my ground against Blake and told myself that I wasn’t going to be bossed around anymore. Over the past four days, I’ve cemented that decision even more.
I’m not going to crawl into a cave and hide because someone tells me to. Even Blake. I glance at the veins popping in his forehead, a sure sign that he wants to draw even closer to me and hold me. There’s something holding him back, something that makes it impossible for him to admit to himself how much he desires me.
He’s in denial. It doesn’t mean I have to be too.
I meet Blake’s annoyed gaze. “No.”
He raises his brows. “No?”
“I was here first. You can leave if you don’t like my outfit.” With every passing second, I feel warmer. I’m saying things that I never imagined in my wildest dreams, and I feel more like myself.
“This is myhouse.” One of the veins in his forehead is threatening to pop. “You don’t get to go around half naked.”
“I was swimming. As I have done for the past three days. And you’re never around. The fact that you’ve decided to stop avoiding me doesn’t mean that information gets automatically downloaded into my brain. You intruded on my privacy. And excuse me, but I’m not half naked. I have a bikini on.”
His blue eyes grow wild with warning. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”
I cross my arms underneath my breasts. His gaze dips, and I feel my nipples bead under his watch.
A low sound of longing rips from his throat. I can tell from the look of consternation on his face a second later that he hadn’t meant to be so obvious.
I don’t know much about men, but I do know that he’s weakening. Really quickly. That it’s not unreasonable to expect that he should already be stripping himself of his clothes and making his way to me.
Maybe any other man would be turning my ass over for his dick right about now, but Blake is still rooted in that spot.
He’s refusing to give in.
That should frustrate me. But I feel the exact opposite. I’m pleased. Because dragging this out carries a kind of ecstasy in its own right. Here, I can explore just how bold I’m becoming. And then, when it finally happens, I can revel in how much work I had to do to break him down.
I inhale sharply. I have never really given much thought to what having sex with Blake would feel like. I enjoy foreplay and everything associated, but my heart is churning with thoughts of being claimed by him.
Fluid drips down my thighs. I squeeze them together automatically, and the sudden shock of rubbing my clitoris causes a sound to spill from my lips.
Blake’s azure eyes grow a shade darker, and my own pleasure wounds higher. He’s the very image of stoicism, but I like this, the little details about him that hint at how hard he’s straining to keep himself in check.
Exactly why I have to push further.
“You haven’t been avoiding me?” I ask incredulously. I’m aware of how silly it is to attempt to maintain a normal conversation while being exposed in the most vulnerable of ways.
But again, it is one of the most formidable things I have done.
Blake is unyieldingly stubborn. He raises his face back to mine, as if to tell me that his momentary lack of concentration is just that: momentary.
“I haven’t,” he asserts stubbornly.
“So, you leave the cabin every morning and come back every night because you’ve got a job somewhere?” I know that him leaving the house has something to do with how attracted he is to me. It feels good to finally call him out on it.
His jaw hardens. “I leave the cabin every morning because I’ve got to work out and run errands around town. That, or watch a game or see some friends. I know you’ve spent your whole adult life thinking the world revolves around you, Strummer, but not everything I do is about you.”
He is deflecting to hurt me. Maybe he’s hoping he will strike a nerve deep enough for me to put on some clothes and get the hell out of his life for good.
Knowing what he wants makes it that much easier to decide to spite him.
“So, you get a cabin out in the middle of nowhere because all you want to do is to hang out indoors? That’s logical.”
His face clouds with rage. I feel a deeper spark of pleasure. Seeing him come to the realization that I’m not that easy to walk over feels better than anything else has felt in the past few days.
He looks like he wants to say several things at once. But then he lets out an aggravated sigh, as though deciding not to pursue the argument.
“I came back here early because I needed to talk to you about something.”
“So, talk.”
There’s a pause from him as his gaze runs over my body again. I know exactly what he is thinking, that he would rather die than have a conversation with me while I’m wearing a skimpy bikini.
But then Blake is nothing if not hardhearted. And he would rather perish than allow himself to lose.
His lips part, ready to start speaking. But at that moment, a small insect perches on the exposed skin on my breast, and I swipe at it reflexively. My fingers touch my breast for an instant, and I hear Blake let out another, louder grunt.
I look up at him. His eyes are blue fire, and he’s clenching his jaw so tightly that I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter.
He’s losing it.
And I get to help him along.
Realizing the effect it has on him, I leave my fingers where they are, giving my breast a playful caress. Blake’s eyes are unabashedly on them, drinking in every movement, looking as though his very breath is hinged on my playing with my tits.
I don’t need to think of what to do next. The lust in his eyes directs me, and I somehow know what he would enjoy seeing.
I brush my thumb across my nipple, which is fully erect underneath the suit. The bud seems to explode in pleasure, and a moan of surprise bursts from my lips. I have touched myself before, but I have never felt that kind of pleasure from nipple rubbing.
Blake watching makes all the difference.
In that moment, I let go of my need to punish him or make him lose control. Right now, I want something else more than I want either of those things.
Him.
I communicate this to him silently, letting my other hand cup my other breast, squeezing both of them gently. My thighs are slick with fluid, and my vagina seems to be quaking with how desperately I need him to fill me.
Blake lets out another grunt. This one is less angry, more acquiescing.
And then he strolls over to me.
I’ve finally managed to make the big guy lose control.
He’s going to punish me for it. I can already see his fingers closing around my throat as he drags me in for a kiss, can already imagine his hands squeezing my ass.
My breath catches. I’m not able to breathe until he’s right in front of me, bending his face over mine, his eyes smoldering.
“Was he the only person you’ve been with?” he murmurs. His voice is a rumble rolling over my skin like a heavy blanket.
I’m thrown off balance. “What?”
“Your ex. Bran, Ben, whatever. Was he the only guy to touch you?”
“Y . . .yes.” My lips sputter the word without contacting my brain. But I don’t care. For this moment, I’m going to give up torturing him. I’m going to give up my autonomy, if it means being touched by him the way I want.
“I used to listen to your songs. You’d go on and on about him and how good he made you feel.”
I swallow, my face getting warmer. I don’t know what Blake is getting at, but the last thing I want to admit is that most of those songs were a lie. Ben had not made me feel anything close to the emotions I wrote about. I remember the pangs of guilt I had when I came across a comment a fan made, talking about how I was living the dream.
But with Blake . . .
Yes, I can’t stand him. And I’m well aware that he can’t stand me, either. But even his looking at me makes my blood burn with need.
I can’t imagine what being with him would feel like. On the other hand, I also can’t imagine what it would feel like telling him I haven’t even had an orgasm with Ben.
I don’t think I can bear watching his face process that information.
“Here’s the thing, though,” Blake says. We’re inches apart, and my body is tingling from the nearness, but he’s still not touching me.
“What?” I breathe. The faster we can get the conversation out of the way, the sooner I can have his hands on me.
“I’m not interested in screwing you. Not if it means I’m going to end up in one of your sappy love songs the moment you’re out of here. I’m not going to be another lie you tell to your followers.”
I take a step back, genuinely shocked.
But it’s not just shock I feel flooding my veins.
It’s hurt.
I was sure that nothing Blake said could dissuade me from standing my ground. I was wrong.
I take another step back, reaching for the towel. Blake’s fiery gaze is on me as I wrap myself in it. I see the hint of victory in his eyes, followed closely by an emotion that resembles remorse.
I don’t wait to find out for sure. Shouldering past him, I head back into the cabin.
Maybe it’s time I start to deal with the fact that I have overstayed my welcome.