Chapter 6
chapter six
priscilla
“I thought my folks were a little over the top, but Tom has them beat. Are those entire lobsters on that lunch buffet?”
I rolled my eyes at Easton’s delighted tone. You’d think a guy who was, for all intents and purposes, heir to a world-famous vineyard would not be fazed by free seafood. But this was just one of the reasons why Easton was forever invited to the cookout.
I laughed as I pointed at the dozen grilled prawns on his plate. “Damn, East, you really have been hanging out with my family too long. You won’t be able to eat all that.”
“For your information,” he said, haughtily pointing at the end of the pier that was part of the beachfront hotel restaurant.
“I got some for my man, too. He went to grab us one of those lanais. These views are really spectacular.” We both turned to look at the white sandy beach and turquoise water.
The lanais in question were lined along the pier.
They looked like big four-poster beds covered on all sides with gauzy fabric that fluttered in the ocean breeze.
I took a moment to appreciate the beauty of my parents’ homeland and wondered once again what it would’ve been like to grow up in a place like this.
Where everything just beckoned you to slow down and play.
To not be so focused on the next thing. Easton’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts and when I looked up, the smile on his face got me out of my fretting.
“Come on, babe. Patrice is over there shirtless and horizontal.”
I had to laugh. “You’d think after a year, your thirsty ass would’ve calmed down about Patrice’s dick, but I guess that’s not happening anytime soon,” I teased, as we made our way down the wooden boardwalk.
He just shook his head, eyes trained on the man in question. “If anything, it’s worse.” He laughed and I marveled at the lightness in his voice. No reservation, no doubts.
“God, this place is pretty.” I grunted in agreement as Easton admired the view.
I’d been coming to the DR my whole life and had stayed in pretty gorgeous beaches and hotels, but this shit was next level.
Dominican beaches were world-class, there was no question about that, and Juan Dolio was a stunner.
You could walk until the water was up to your neck and still see your feet; that was how white the sand was and how clear the water.
Except my dumb ass was not paying attention to any of it.
My head was still stuck on Juan Pablo’s vibe at the cave.
I’d pushed and gotten close, half-expecting him to jump on it.
Do something to give me an excuse to take things further, but he hadn’t.
He’d kept his hands to himself. I needed to do the same.
Was I a little taken aback by the fact that Juan Pablo didn’t even try to leer or say something ridiculous when it was just the two of us in that cave?
Of course.
But I wasn’t going to be the one to play games either. The last time we’d tried, things had gone up in flames and I swore I would not be the one to break. So far I wasn’t doing super great at it, but I wasn’t cracking either.
When we got to the lanai, we passed around plates of food and drinks.
There were four huge chaises that could probably fit four people each, but of course the couples had already commandeered three of them.
Jude and Nesto were literally feeding each other ceviche in one, Easton dropped his ass on the one Patrice was clearly saving for him and no one else, and Camilo and Tom were on another one.
That left the fourth one, where one Juan Pablo Campos was chilling, a cold Presidente in his hand.
For fuck’s sake, how was I supposed to get through this fucking week with that man looking like an entire fucking meal?
He was wearing his usual tight swim trunks and Ray Ban aviators…
with a Yankees fitted on his head. He’d been picking on a plate of tostones and fried fish, and his lips were just a tiny bit greasy.
The way my stomach dipped just from the thought of leaning in and licking it off should’ve been the first sign that I was in real fucking trouble.
“Here.” I legit squealed and jumped about a foot in the air when he lifted a hand gesturing for my plate.
“I’ll hold it for you, so you can get comfortable.
” I passed him the glass of wine and plate then went around the to the other side of the chaise, trying hard not to look directly at the tattoo which just made the muscles on his smooth chest look that much more delicious.
The man waxed and groomed more than any other person I’d ever met, and you’d think all the high maintenance bullshit would put me off his dick…
Well, you’d be wrong. Because I was actively refraining from running a hand over all that brown skin.
As soon as I sat on the chaise, he placed my wine and food on the built-in wooden tray between us.
As I worked on getting my top back in place, I kept my peripheral vision on him long enough to see him noiselessly suck on his teeth.
My heart tripped inside my chest at the gesture—which was usually the precursor to him saying something filthy and extremely hot—and I fought the urge to push up to him.
The electricity in the air that was ever present whenever Juanpa and I were within touching distance practically burning my skin.
And he was right there with me, close enough I could smell his citrusy aftershave and the shea butter and jojoba coconut oil he religiously rubbed on his skin each morning.
Fuck, drinking and this much contact with Juan Pablo was not going to end well.
“There’s really some hashtag ‘living my best life’ shit happening right now.
” His voice startled me again, this time, at least, I managed not to scream.
“I’m too overwhelmed to even post to my Instagram account,” he said, making me laugh.
I nodded in silent agreement, as I took a long sip from the delicious Chilean Sauvignon Blanc they literally had on tap.
“Leave it to Camilo to find a man that hot and that fucking loaded and then make him so crazy he has to beg him to spend money on him,” Juan Pablo joked, referring to Camilo’s refusal to take money from his fiancé at the beginning of their relationship.
Thankfully our prickly friend was now embracing the flex, which meant we were getting treated to a pretty fancy vacay.
“I’m not going to say I’m mad at Camilo seeing the light,” I muttered around a mouthful of grilled octopus.
“Ey, nobody’s complaining, least of all me—”
Juan Pablo suddenly stopped talking then cleared his throat and stared somewhere around my mouth.
“What?” I asked, running a hand over my cheek.
“You got a little bit of the sauce on your chin, here,” he said, leaning in to rub his thumb over the spot.
Fuck, he smelled so damn good.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying mad hard not to do something crazy like lick him, but it was a very close call.
He kept his thumb on my face for just a moment longer than necessary and we both held our breath, caught up in touching again.
Everything felt like this with J, like I was always on the edge of a precipice.
Constantly on the verge of falling. I had to make sure I never forgot it was a bad idea to take the plunge.
But like back at the cave, just when I was about to let myself take what I knew we both wanted, Juan Pablo pulled back. With his eyes hidden under mirrored glasses I couldn’t exactly see what was happening, but the flush on his chest and neck told me that he was just as heated as me.
He stood up, pointing at my half-full wineglass, his empty bottle in one hand. “I’m gonna go to the bar for another. You need anything?”
I shook my head as I attempted to compose myself, “Nah, I’m good.”
He angled his head in the direction of the beach bar where some of our family was still eating as I tried to discreetly watch him walk away. That wide back tapering down to a narrow waist and God, that ass, which had always been my weakness.
“Nice to see that even though we’re living the MTV Cribs life these days, some things never change. Pris, your thirst is showing, mama.”
I glanced up to see Camilo and Easton both grinning at me, but before I could tell either of them to fuck off, I got flanked on both sides and got matching looks, which all but guaranteed I was about to get a session of twenty questions. “Don’t you two have men you need to be paying attention to?”
Camilo flicked his hand in the direction of his silver fox who seemed to be in a very engrossing conversation with Patrice.
“They’re talking about the elections. They’ll be at it for a while, and I’ll have plenty of time to get all the QT I need with my man soon.
” He gloated, as he raised his left hand to admire his very understated engagement ring.
Tom had managed to get a rock on that ring, but I’m sure he restrained himself for Camilo’s sake.
“From here, we’re going to some bougie place in Greece for two weeks of what I hope will be nothing but fucking, eating, and day drinking, not necessarily in that order. ”
I smiled at how happy he was. It seemed that while I wasn’t looking, all my friends had become…
fulfilled. The Priscilla who had been through more than a few breakups with them and knew how fucking amazing they were was happy—no, elated—for them, because they deserved it.
The other Pris, the one who was starting to feel like every part of the life she’d worked so fucking hard to build was suffocating her—she felt just a little bit jealous.
Not because I wanted exactly what they had, but because I felt unsatisfied and I had no clue how to fix it.