Chapter 10 Malena #2
Leif traces his hands down my sides, creating a wave of desire so strong my legs give out.
He catches me and lifts me into his arms until my legs are locked around him, and then he walks out the back door of his condo.
Laughing, I bury my face in his neck and close my eyes.
I know we’re alone out here. It’s secluded but for his neighbors and there’s tall sawgrass on either side of the path leading around the houses and down to the beach.
The waves rush the shore in hisses and bubbles, and Leif picks up his pace, running for the water at a speed that scares me.
“You’re going to be so wet after I get finished with you,” he says, breathing raggedly into my ear. “Dripping,” he adds.
“Soaking,” I squeal, readjusting my grip around his neck. “Sopping and soggy,” I cry out in between chuckles.
He runs into the cool water and takes us down into the water. It’s pitch black but for the moonlight, and his blue eyes search mine. His mouth slants up. “Soggy isn’t good. What about slick?”
“You are slick, you know that?” I return. He pulls us into shallow water and sits, bringing me on top of him—his huge, hard dick thumping my stomach anytime a wave rolls over our bodies.
He eyes the shore and his condo. “I left my work phone inside,” he says. “Does this count as our sleepover commencement? Skinny dipping?”
“I am dripping wet,” I say, lifting and lowering my shoulders.
“The water temperature is nice. I forgot how good it feels to be in the water at night,” I admit, swallowing.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this carefree.
I wouldn’t even know how to define that word in my past. It’s meant something completely different to me up until this point.
“Naked. With a man?” Leif asks, drawing my gaze back to him. The shade of his eyes will haunt my dreams. It’s the shade the water is during the day. A light, crisp blue, but right now it’s black. Like oil. A contrast of truth.
“Never naked with a man,” I admit, hugging him closer—the heat from his body warming me. “You’re special, Leif Andersson. You already know that. What about you? Ever skinny-dipped with a woman out here?”
He shakes his head. “No skinny dipping with women. Not here. Not anywhere. This is a first. It is sort of nice. And you know just what to say to hook me a little bit more,” he replies.
I smile. He smiles. Then he kisses me sweetly, his hands a whisper touch on my face. “I’m not a hooker,” I murmur.
“I disagree,” he returns, standing up and taking me with him.
“You’re a trap. One I’m still not sure fate didn’t set for me.
Here in this place I never would have considered living,” he says, sighing.
He walks back up the path slowly. “You had me in the water when it wasn’t for work.
That’s a huge feat, for your information. ”
“Why? You scared of drowning?” I tease, pressing a kiss against his salty neck. “It is dark and scary out here,” I deadpan.
“After endless hours of training in the cold, West Coast waters, being in the water is never something I choose to do on my own in my free time. I’m not a sadist.”
“Beach vacays are out of the question then,” I ask as he lifts me out of the water.
He nods. “I prefer snow skiing. Or exploring new cities in different countries. A cruise ship would be my worst nightmare,” he continues as he carries me up the beach.
“You live at the beach, Leif,” I point out as we enter the house. He sets me down, our feet leaving sandy pools of water on the shoe mat.
“I like water sports. Jet skiing and wakeboarding and stuff. But I don’t want to be in the water any more than I have to.”
We do our best to get the sand off our feet and legs and then race to his bedroom, the air conditioning turning our skin frosty.
“Speaking of getting in the water and fun. Let’s hit the showers,” he says, waggling his brow as he scrolls both of his cell phones.
It’s hard not to wonder who he’s checking for, or if there’s someone else.
That’s my natural instinct as a woman in this century.
That’s sad. In this moment, I give all of my preconceived notions away to the trash man.
Leif isn’t going to hurt me. He isn’t a normal man. He is good. So good.
I cross my arms. “You’re a walking oxymoron,” I say, rolling my eyes, approaching the bathroom.
“And I think it might be what I love most about you.” He beckons me with both of his hands as he cranks on the hot water, and I don’t refuse.
His shower is large—two showerheads, one for each of us.
I spy a pink bottle of popular women’s shampoo on one side and lose my breath.
Don’t bring it up. He has a past just as I do.
Leif steps in the shower and holds the glass door open for me, all while eyeing my body like I’m on the menu.
The steam hits me, and relief from the cold eases my chattering teeth.
He stays on his side, washing his body with a handful of soap, while I rinse the salt water from my hair.
“Where would you like to go on vacation? Living at the beach, it’s gotta be snow,” he says.
I grab the offending pink bottle to wash my hair and realize it’s full.
Brand new. I squirt some in my palm and begin scrubbing my hair.
“Anywhere but here,” I say. “I’m not opposed to beach vacations elsewhere.
No beach is exactly the same. I’ve been snow skiing once when I was young.
I don’t really remember it, though there is video of me flying down a bunny slope straight into a forest. My dad had to take off his skis to go in after me.
Mom said I was pretty traumatized after that and just wanted to build snowmen at the base of the mountain.
” I rinse my hair out. “Probably time I try again. Maybe now that Mom is…” The words almost left my mouth, branding me a selfish daughter.
“Never mind,” I say. “I like this shower,” I say, trying to change the subject.
“You can live your life for you. That’s the way it’s supposed to be, you know?” Leif says, taking my chin into his hand. “Let’s go snow skiing together. A vacation.”
I smirk and swallow down the guilt. “She’d want me to try again after that disaster,” I admit. “Even if she doesn’t remember it now.” I grab Leif’s soap and start washing my body.
“I had the bathroom and kitchen redone when I moved in. It looked like the 70’s puked all over everything.
I’m glad you like it.” Leif clears his throat.
“They told me that was the shampoo you used at the store. I wanted you to have something other than Old Spice man wash for your hair. It’s so… long and girly,” he rambles.
Grinning uncontrollably, I point a soapy finger at the pink bottle. “You bought that for me?”
He nods, not meeting my eyes. “Figured at the very least we’d go to the beach together and end up here. No one goes to bed without showering first.” He shrugs. “You have to wash your hair after the beach.”
“True. That’s very thoughtful, though. Almost too thoughtful. Like you were planning on me spending the night.” I quirk one brow.
Leif looks off to the side, wearing a guilty smile. “I get what I want,” he replies, licking his lips. “Wasn’t a matter of if, just when.”
I can’t argue with that logic. “Well, thank you. I bet their heads popped off when you asked what shampoo I used. I’m surprised I didn’t find out you were shopping for me via the Bronze Bay gossip hotline. You’d be surprised how quickly news travels.”
“I may have threatened their lives,” he says.
Turning off my water, I eye him. “Liar.”
Sighing, he pulls me in for a wet, hot hug—our skin the same exact temperature. His lips are against my hair. “Plus, I love the way this shampoo smells so much I might use it on myself.”
“So you can think of me when I’m not around?” I fire back.
He grunts. “Maybe.”
Leif wraps me in a fluffy, white towel, then snatches it away when I am mostly dry so the naked sleepover can resume.
I bump off the air conditioner and open the windows to let in the warm night air.
The waves echo through the living room as we alternate between looking at each other’s naked body to talking about everything.
We talk about his family and upbringing a lot, and I find myself wistful, yet happy.
Happy he had such a happy childhood because it made him the man he is today, and wistful because it’s obvious I missed out on so much.
I was forced to grow up so quickly and fully that perhaps skipping it made me who I am.
When he finishes a story, I’m no longer afraid to meet his parents, nor will I ever be intimidated by his sisters again.
“There’s a game I like to play,” I say, when there’s a lull in conversation.
“Let’s play it,” he says, biting his lip.
“It’s not sexual,” I explain. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep and I’m too tired to read, I ask myself silly questions.
It’s an imagination game. When I was little, I’d ask myself what I’d buy if I had twenty dollars.
It was usually whatever toy my friends at school had that I didn’t.
Then I got older and the questions turned into, ‘What would my perfect boyfriend look like?’ or ‘What would I do with a billion dollars?’”
“Oh, this is my favorite kind of game. Ask me anything,” Leif says, excitement lighting his eyes. “I’ll win this game every single time.”
“There aren’t winners and losers.” We’re stretched out on a cotton blanket on the floor, the television playing lowly in the background.
The movie was whatever came up first on his queue, it is over now, and some random show is playing as background noise.
There was never any question of if we would actually watch it.
We just wanted the sound to help fill the silence while we stared.
Our eyes are only for each other. “So, what would you do with a billion dollars? Would you quit your job?”
“First off, we couldn’t tell anyone. Not our family or friends.
We’d live off the interest. No ostentatious purchases.
That’s where people fuck up when they win the lottery.
The money clouds their judgment. I wouldn’t stop working.
I love my job, but my hobbies would be way cooler.
” He folds his arms behind his head. “We’d gift some of the money to our family and friends. In small increments, though.”
“That’s smart,” I remark. “Also, you’re saying we, not I.”
The dreamy smile drops from his face. “Oh. Well, I thought you asked what we would do with a billion dollars.”
“I like being a ‘we’ with you,” I reply, tracing his chiseled jaw with my finger.
Leaning in, I kiss his lips. He deepens the kiss, leaning into me.
The news anchor on television breaks through our perfect moment.
Something about a terrorist squad mobilizing.
It’s just enough to remind us we don’t live in same world we did as children.
Leif pauses, listening, but keeping his lips against mine. His body goes rigid.
“What does your ideal boyfriend look like?” Leif asks, distractedly, lips still pressed to mine. It’s obvious his whole demeanor changes when his work is brought up. It’s not just his work, though. It affects everyone.
I kiss his jaw. His neck. The swell of his chest, where his muscles begin. His body relaxes under my touch. Maybe this is what I offer him. Peace inside his world of war and unknowns.
“You’re fishing,” I murmur against his skin.
“Well, you’re hooking. Makes sense, right?”
“I didn’t realize what my ideal man looked like until I met you,” I say, meeting his gaze. “You.”
He peers down at me through his thick blond lashes. “I want to change my billion-dollar answer,” Leif growls.
“No changes,” I say, smirking.
His face is stoic, severe, as he whispers, “If the only thing I own is your heart, I’ll be the richest man in the world.”
I don’t know how I can tell from just a look, but that seems to be a trend with Leif, and I’m pretty sure we both broke a couple of rules. “Consider yourself a billionaire, fine sir,” I say, bringing his face to mine in a kiss, the news once again becoming background noise.