29. “Skin” - Rihanna
“Skin” - Rihanna
Heath
I’m going to rip that smug bastard’s head off.
If Rhett’s grin were any bigger, his face would split in half.
When he sprints across the sand with Walker flung over his shoulder, his hand on her fucking ass, I crumple the empty beer can in my hand without even remembering I’m holding it.
I fling it to the side, and it hits the sand with a soft pop.
The volleyball game sucks. To no surprise, our team loses. It’s hard to pay attention to the ball when Walker is standing in front of me wearing a fucking bikini that leaves little to the imagination.
Memories of her body beneath me in the Archives don’t help either.
The sun is setting when we walk back to the house.
Lux jumps on Pierce’s back for a piggyback ride, and Maeve yells at me to quit being a superstitious twat when I avoid the cracks in the wooden steps.
A sushi chef has laid out a giant buffet of at least twenty different kinds of rolls on the sprawling dining room table.
We load our plates and move to the terrace to eat.
Lux moans as she pops her last piece into her mouth. “God, I’m going to die a happy girl,” she says, her mouth still full.
“Why don’t we do this more?” Pierce asks .
“Because there’s more to life than sand and mosquitos.” Maeve smacks her hand against a bug on her arm.
“You know what would make this day even more perfect?” Lux says. Without waiting for a response, she adds, “Jetting off to Singapore for dim sum.” She leans her head back against her chair and closes her eyes.
“I’m down,” Rhett says from the pool, where he’s floating on a huge inflatable peacock. “Singaporeans are hot.”
Pierce shakes his head and chucks a can of beer at him. “When are you going to grow up?”
Rhett catches it effortlessly and cracks it open. “Ready for me to take Isabella off your hands already?” He grins wolfishly as he tilts the can to his mouth.
Pierce lunges for him, knocking him off the float. They hit the water with a splash.
“Idiots,” Maeve mutters. She turns to Lux. “Singapore sounds fun, as long as I’m back for the board meeting on Thursday.”
Lux squeals and squirms in her chair. “It’s going to be so much fun. Walker, Heath, you in?”
Walker is sitting on the other side of the table, and I’ve felt her gaze on me throughout the day. Hesitation dances in her eyes. She hates disappointing people, but she feels guilty about not studying.
“I have to work,” I say, even though I can spend as much or little time at the surf shop as I want.
Walker’s eyes dart to me before returning to Lux. “And I should study.”
“Wait a minute.” Lux looks at both of us in turn. “Is this so you can stay behind and hook up?”
Walker couldn’t possibly look more mortified. “Definitely not,” she says.
“Pooh.” Lux’s pout is applaudable. “I could use a juicy scandal. ”
Walker and I share another glance. A quiet “thank you” hides in her eyes. She wouldn’t be thanking me if she knew I sent those pictures of her notebooks, after getting sick and tired of Maeve’s nagging. There were only a few, so I doubt she’ll be able to do much with them.
“Where’s the scandal?” Rhett walks toward us, leaving a trail of water behind him. He cracks open another beer and guzzles it.
Pierce towels off his hair as he approaches. He snags the last piece of sushi from Maeve’s plate and pops it into his mouth.
“Hey!” She elbows him in the gut. “I was going to eat that.”
He lurches out of the way before she can slug him again.
“Who’s up for a friendly little game of Mario Kart ?” Rhett asks, hands in the air.
“No!” Maeve says, standing up. “We’re watching a film tonight. It’s on the itinerary.”
Rhett gives her a dramatic eye roll. “No one wants to watch your boring movies, Maeve. They’re not even in color.”
They start arguing, Lux joins in, and Pierce acts as mediator. Then the four of them migrate to the house, leaving me and Walker alone in the silence. She makes no move to get up, so I stay in my seat.
I don’t know if this was an intentional plot on their part, giving me the opportunity to siphon info from her, but I’m not thinking about that tonight. Not when I’m alone with her for the first time in days.
“Wanna take a walk?” I find myself saying.
She looks up like she’s surprised to hear my voice. “Sure.”
I follow her down the steps to the beach, allowing myself only two peeks at that fine ass. Okay, maybe three.
Dusk has fallen, so everything is bathed in shadows. Away from the noise of the group, the ocean becomes a presence of its own, the waves crashing onto shore, then retreating to build up again.
“It’s beautiful,” Walker says. “I always forget how peaceful the ocean is. ”
I want to ask if she’s forgotten anything else, like how good we were together, but I don’t.
We walk the strip of sand between the water and the rock face beneath the house in silence. This may be the thing I miss the most. Walker doesn’t need words. She never has. She’s one of the few people I know who doesn’t feel the need to fill every moment with speech.
We turn around after half a mile to head back to the house. My pulse kicks up as we approach. I don’t want this night to end. I don’t want to say goodbye to her.
The stars are already out and twinkling their hellos. I drop to the sand and recline onto my back, hands behind my head. A few seconds later, she joins me.
The heat of her soft body brushes against me, even though we’re not touching. We lie there for a long time, not saying anything, watching the stars. Well, she’s watching the stars. I can barely concentrate on breathing, she’s so distracting.
“What’s your favorite sound?” She breaks the silence at last.
The crash of the ocean is amplified by the lack of other noises. It’s an obvious choice, one she expects me to make. “Guess,” I say.
“The ocean.”
I turn my head to face her. She does the same. I let the corner of my mouth pull upward. “Nope.”
She narrows her eyes. “You’re lying.”
“Swear to god.”
She tilts her face back to the sky. I keep my eyes on her profile, that straight nose, those angular cheekbones. The bangs are new, but I like the way they add definition to her features.
“Rain?”
“No.”
“Campfire?”
“Nope. ”
She snaps her fingers. “Coffee maker.”
I chuckle quietly. “No.”
She hmphs and bites her lip. My groin tightens. “Music?”
I shake my head.
“A train whistle?”
“No.”
“Thunderstorm.”
“That’s yours,” I say.
“It is,” she says dreamily. “Best sound ever.”
There’s a weird pressure in my chest, like my rib cage is two sizes too small for my heart.
“City sounds,” she says, turning to look at me again.
I frown.
“I didn’t think so,” she says, returning her gaze to the stars, “but I’m running out of ideas. Just tell me.”
“You really want to know?”
She doesn’t say anything right away, like she can read the warning in my words. Then she slowly turns to face me. “Yeah,” she says, her voice soft.
I exhale quietly. I should’ve gone with the ocean when I had the chance. Carefully, as if she’s a bird who could fly away from me at any second, I reach a hand toward her bare stomach. She’s warm and as soft as velvet. She lets out a barely audible gasp.
“My favorite sounds,” I whisper, “are the ones you make when I touch you.”
Her eyes waltz drunkenly over my face as I gently stroke circles on her belly. When my fingers skim the top of her bikini bottom, the gasp switches to a soft whimper.
“That, right there,” I say, leaning even closer. “All those tiny little noises you make.” If I could record them for my own personal soundtrack, I would .
I let my fingers dance along the seam of her swimsuit, enjoying the way her eyes stay locked on me, like I’m solely responsible for ensuring she has everything she needs.
When her breathing switches to almost panting, I find the string on the side of her bottoms and give it a little tug. The knot comes apart in my hand. Her breath hitches as I reach to do the same on the other side.
A small moan escapes her lips as I slide my palm back across her stomach, allowing my fingers to dip below the waistband of her newly unfastened bikini. I tear my gaze from her face and let it fall on the rest of her magnificent body.
She’s not curvy, but she has a softness to her edges that makes me weak at the knees. Gripping the bikini bottom in my hands, I pull it down and disentangle the strings. When it’s lying in the sand between her legs, I allow myself a full view.
She looks different here in the moonlight than she did in the Archives. Luminous, radiant, like a goddess of the sea.
I run my fingers over the area that was covered by her swimsuit seconds ago. She stifles a groan as they glide over her folds without slipping inside. I long to swallow all of her sounds, but if I kiss her, I won’t be able to see or hear everything this is doing to her.
I shift more fully onto my elbow, giving myself more room to explore. When heat pulses from her, I know she’s wet enough. I slip one finger between those soft folds, and she arches her back and gasps. I smile and press against her clit.
She bows in half again. I imagine the amount of sand she’s going to be finding in the crevices of her body.
My cock goes rigid in response. I reach down and spread her thighs further apart, then slide two fingers deep inside her.
She groans as I start pumping them, in and out, in and out.
How anyone could not find this the most incredible sound in the world is beyond me .
My fingers are slick with her, and they make a smacking noise as they ram into her over and over. I lean down to press a kiss to her stomach. But one taste of her skin is not going to be enough.
I trail kisses down until I reach my hand. I continue thrusting my fingers in and out, adding a third, just to watch her arch that back again. I use my free hand to lift her ass. Then I lower my head between her legs and get a taste of her.
Her pussy is like honey on my tongue. She cries out as I suck her clit, my fingers sliding deeper than ever. I tilt her hips up higher, and she wraps her legs over my shoulders, giving me unadulterated access to everything I want.
She’s spread so wide, and she’s oozing sweet juices all over my face.
I want to bury myself here and never come out.
Using the hand holding her up, I circle her anal opening with my pinkie.
She bucks against me. I clamp down on her with my mouth and feel her tighten around my fingers.
She throws her head back and cries out as her climax rips through her.
* * *
If the others know what we were up to, they don’t say anything when we get back to the house. Walker says good night to everyone, avoiding my eyes, and heads to her room. Her absence hangs in the air after she leaves.
I hang around long enough for one more drink and a game of pool with Pierce before calling it a night. On my way to bed, I pause outside Walker’s door, but something keeps me from knocking. I spend the night tossing in my own sheets, haunted by the scent of her still on my hands.
The next morning, during breakfast prepared by another chef Maeve hired, we hear a banging on the front door. We exchange glances around the table, but when no one claims to be expecting a visitor, I offer to investigate.
I open the front door, revealing Carter Fitzgerald-Smythe standing outside, wearing a pink polo and suede espadrilles.
His coiffed hair adds three inches to his height.
I have no idea what Lux sees in the twat.
He gives me a single irritated look before pushing past me and into the house. “Lux!” he calls.
“Hey.” I grab his shoulder before he can take more than a few steps.
He whirls around on me. “Where is she?”
“Lux.” I keep a hand on Carter. “Visitor.”
She walks around the corner. “Carter? What are you doing here?”
He yanks his shoulder from my grip and grabs her wrist. After tossing another dirty look at me, he drags her into the room beside the foyer.
Everyone sticks their heads around the corner to see what’s going on. “What do we know about this douchebag?” I ask.
“Not much,” Maeve says. “She won’t tell me anything.”
Raised voices float from the room Lux is in with her boyfriend.
“I’m going to throw him out on his ass.” Pierce heads toward them.
Before he can do that, Lux comes into the foyer. She gives us a half-assed smile and says, “I’m going to ride back with Carter. You guys can stay as long as you want. Just make sure to lock up when you leave.”
Maeve protests, but Lux won’t be swayed. She goes upstairs to pack and returns a few minutes later with her luggage. Rhett and I each grab several bags, since her prick of a boyfriend makes no move to help her.
“Talk to her,” I whisper to Walker as I head for the front door.
When I get back from loading her bags into the wanker’s orange McLaren, Walker gives me a hopeless look. “I tried,” she says.
Lux follows Carter out the door. The rest of us exchange glances.
“That prick is going down,” Pierce says.