4. Weak In the Knees
4
WEAK IN THE KNEES
Ruby
I’d had the piercing for so long I hardly ever thought about the sky-blue starfish belly ring. I ran my thumb across the sparkly surface. “I practically forgot I had this. Got it when I was sixteen.”
“Please tell me that was more than a few years ago,” he said playfully.
I rolled my eyes. “A lot more than a few years ago,” I said. More like sixteen years ago. But I didn’t want to give away too many personal details to a stranger. No matter how handsome he was, no matter how much I liked the crinkles at the corners of his green eyes, the stubble along his jawline, and the golden streaks in his brown hair. And his tattoos. His right arm sported a sleeve of ink in bold shades of orange, green, and blue, like tropical leaves, standing out against his fair but sun-kissed coloring.
“Well, you might have forgotten about it, but I could barely take my eyes off it,” he said, his deep voice low and sexy. Then he feigned seriousness. “I meant, while I was trying damn hard to be a perfect gentleman when you reached up to get the dart—I might have noticed the starfish.”
“Because it’s ridiculously sexy?” I asked, fishing for another compliment. They were unexpectedly…delicious.
“The starfish and its owner,” he answered.
I tingled all over from the remark. And maybe, too, from how it made me want to run a thumb along his sandpaper stubble, feel it brush against my chin, and mouth, and lips.
I gulped, then blinked, like a computer rebooting, as I tried to chase away the dirty thoughts racing through my head. I was here on this island for work—and a little recon. I’d stopped in The Pink Pelican to find my friend Kalila, who had tended bar last time I was here. But Kalila’s sister Maris manned the taps now, and I hadn’t even had a chance to ask her any questions—perhaps because Jake had distracted me from the moment I’d spotted him. He was still damned distracting. And I liked the way his compliments made me feel. Warm and a little fizzy. “Well, thank you for saying that.”
“My pleasure. And it is also a pleasure to meet you, Ariel,” he said, extending a hand to shake. I took it, liking the way it felt.
Don’t think about pulling him against you. Stop imagining what his body would feel like above you. No more staring at those full lips and wondering how they taste, and feel, and…
Fuck it.
“Jake’s a good name…” I didn’t let go of his hand. “For a hot guy a woman meets in a bar.”
He smiled, a little crooked, a bit cocky. All sexy. “Thank you. Ariel suits you too. For…similar reasons.”
That fizzy feeling intensified. “Seems we have a mutual admiration society at work here,” I said.
“It’s very, very mutual.”
When I finally let go of his grip, my gaze drifted to a white, raised mark on his forearm. “Cool scar. Is it new?”
He tapped his forearm. “A very recent acquisition. Unfortunately.”
“But does it have a cool story to go with it?”
He shot me a sly grin. “What do you think, Ariel?”
“Let me guess. You got in a knife fight in an alley, fending off enemy spies. No. That’s not it. You’ve gone rogue, and the CIA is after you. Or better yet, the knife slipped while gutting a fish after one too many beers, since I’m guessing you’re here on a fishing trip.”
He pointed at me approvingly after my last words. “I am.”
I mimed tossing a basketball. “She shoots, she scores! But is that how you cut your forearm though?” Then I shook my head. I was prying about something potentially personal. Scars were personal. “Never mind. Tell me more about your fishing trip. But remember, mermaids love all sea creatures.”
“Then, I should probably tell you about the non-fishing parts of my vacation,” he said, nodding to my glass, nearly empty. “But first things first. Can I get you another whiskey?”
“It’s iced tea, actually, and I’m trying to cut back, so I’m all good.”
He didn’t get another drink, either, but we moved to one end of the bar where it was deliciously dark and a little bit private. We chatted more about the islands, though he never told me the cool story about his scar, and I never told him why I had the starfish on my belly—because the water truly felt like a friend, because the water felt like where I belonged. But that was fine. There were more interesting topics to discuss.
“I swear, I’ve never seen a more beautiful sunset than here,” I said.
“The tropics do have a lock on beautiful ways to end the day,” he said.
“The sunrise isn’t so bad either,” I added.
“I’m getting the sense you like spending time by the beach.”
“What gave it away? The tan? Or my super-chill vibe,” I teased.
“Both. But also,” he began, then leaned in closer, “you smell like coconuts.”
He said it with a rumble that shot down my spine.
It made me want to hear that sound again.
Standing in the corner of the bar, enjoying the kind of privacy that comes with knowing next to no one in a room full of friends, I threw caution to the breeze. “Better make sure though,” I said, in an invitation.
And oh hell, he took it. He stepped closer, curled a big hand around my shoulder, and leaned in to indulge in a long inhale that made my stomach flip. He pulled back, paused, staring hotly at me. My breath caught. I was in his arms, poised for this moment to unspool into something else. A ribbon of heat raced through me as his gaze held me hostage. His green eyes blazed as he stared at me like he wanted to eat me up. That fierce look made me shudder. I breathed him in, and his skin smelled like sunshine and showers. He was hard everywhere. Arms, abs, legs.
His fingers curled around my shoulder, gripping me as Jack Johnson sang about banana pancakes and pretending it was the weekend.
“I have three things to tell you,” he whispered, his voice rough. “One, I want to kiss you. Two, I’m going to kiss you. Three, if you don’t want me to, say no?—”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes and waited. In that second before his lips met mine, my mind raced with hope and worry. The hope that kissing a stranger in a bar would be worth it. I hadn’t been kissed well in a long while.
I wanted the kind of kiss that made your knees weak. That sent your heart fluttering. That spread warmth on a sweet, shivery path through your chest.
His lips met mine, and… oh.
Oh yes.
His were so damn soft, and full, and delicious. He took his time, exploring my mouth, brushing his lips over mine, tasting me. That tingly sensation sped up, shooting through my body like an injection of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
He was snug against me and I savored the delicious press of his body as he swept his mouth across mine. The kiss deepened as he ran his fingertips down my bare arm. He dropped his hand to my lower back, angling me closer. Pulling me tighter. I roped my arms around his neck, curled my fingers into the ends of his hair, and pressed my own desperation against his lips.
With a groan, he yanked me even closer as he held my face in his hand, kissing so hard his stubble left a whiskery burn.
My mind spun wild with images. Pictures of this night turning into something else. Kisses under the stars. Hips, legs, lips moving together. Him wrapping me tighter in his caress, whispering all the sweet, dirty things he wanted to do to me. In the heat of his kiss, in the urgency of his touch, I had the raw materials to feed my imagination.
My heart raced. My blood pumped. I craved this stranger fiercely. We had no history. We had no past. We only had the same agenda.
To spend the night together.
He backed me up against the wall next to the dartboard, my spine hitting the wood with a thump. The sound of it was like a door shutting. Like the moment when a kiss turns from we’re trying this on for size to this kiss won’t stop at kissing . He cupped the back of my neck, and his other hand clasped my hip, yanking me against him, so I could feel him .
All of him.
Lust skyrocketed and I was ready to go somewhere, anywhere, and?—
His phone rang.
A Taylor Swift song.
Instantly, he broke the kiss and sighed deeply as he grabbed his phone from his pocket. The name Kylie flashed on the screen.
Shit.
Was Kylie his girlfriend?
He swiped his thumb across the phone. “Kylie, give me five seconds,” he said into the phone, then covered the screen.
Jake quickly scanned the bar, on the hunt for something, it seemed. I wasn’t sure what he wanted, and I was still punch-drunk on that kiss, but also on guard at the same time. He shot out his arm, grabbed a napkin from the bar next to us, and handed it to me.
“Give me your number. So I can call you later,” he said.
But did I want to give him my number? Maybe this was best left at kissing.
A sob sounded from the phone. I didn’t know whether to believe him or not.
I pointed toward the bar. “I’ll leave it with Maris. I have somewhere I need to be now anyway. But you can reach me later, I guess.” The words tumbled out, like a car sputtering to turn on.
“I’ll be back,” he said, then he walked out in a rush.
I stared at the empty space where he’d been and replayed the last few minutes.
On the one hand, he’d asked for my number.
But on the other hand, he was…gone.
Was that an innocent phone call from a friend? Family? Perhaps a date Mayday call? Or a lie from someone who was cheating? Absently, I raised my fingers to my lips. They still tingled. I ran the pad of a finger over my bottom lip. I hoped his excuse was legit because…that kiss. Wow.
“Ruby!”
I swiveled around, spotting Maris behind the bar. “I thought you said you wanted to chat when I was free,” Maris said, then flashed me a naughty look. “Seems instead you’ve been getting to know Jake the Fisherman.”
At least Maris knew him. But pressing her for details on who he was felt…desperate. I’d have to ask him who Kylie was if I heard from him again. Because, dammit, I wanted another kiss like that. I wanted more. But I needed to get to the bottom of his situation first.
“Do me a favor, Maris?” I snagged a pen from the register and wrote a few words on a napkin. No number for him just yet. If Jake wanted to see me, he was going to have to follow my trail. And answer some questions.
“Of course.”
“Actually, two favors. Tell Kalila I can’t wait to see her.”
Maris nodded. “She’s camping. Should be back in a few days.”
“She’d better call me while I’m here. Then give this to the hot fisherman if he comes back in here. But don’t tell him my real name, okay?”
Maris rubbed her hands together and winked. “Ooh, lover games. And I get to be the messenger. Count me in.”
I handed Maris the note, then took off for my first stop on my self-appointed job—to visit an old friend.