17. Ruby
Samuel is quiet in his corner of the pool, trying to appear really focused on his cigarette while I grin to myself. I thought about this whole situation between us since we had that little talk two days ago.
I got my feelings back under control, well; I got them back in the corner at the back of my mind where they belong, and I decided to keep them there.
He’s too hot to ruin all of this because I can’t keep a clear head, and sooner or later, he’s gone either way. As long as I suppress any feelings for him that aren’t “horny”, I should be fine.
And then, when he’s gone, I can suffer in silence.
“Can you imagine this house is the first thing I have that comes close to an actual home? We traveled around for most of my childhood.”
We were on the run would be more fitting, but I keep that thought to myself.
“I probably already forgot a few of the places. Cyprus, Switzerland, Italy, we even lived in a really rural part of Peru for a while. And I mean alpacas and chicken in front of our house-rural. It was nice though, the kids in the village were really sweet.”
I look over to Samuel, who’s still acting uninterested in my story, but that never kept me from talking.
“Sometimes I was allowed to go to one of the local schools if we stayed somewhere long enough, but I was mostly homeschooled. The older I got, the more I preferred it that way. A lot of kids at school were weird to me. I think they were jealous because I got to travel so much. You always have one or two mean kids in a class and when they decide they don’t want you there, it’s difficult to get accepted into set groups. Especially when you’re the weirdo who’s only part of the class for a few months.” I look up at the sky, ignoring the uneasy feeling in my stomach.
“It’s easy to be jealous when you don’t know the full story. Yes, living in fancy hotels and seeing so much of the world is nice, in a way, but moving away as soon as you make friends isn’t.”
“Don’t you think you could have had it worse?” Samuel asks, taking a drag from his cigarette.
“See, that’s exactly what I mean,” I say as I splash a bit more water in his direction. “Where did you go on vacation when you were a kid?”
“We spent most summers with my grandma. Went camping once or twice.”
I’m surprised that he really answered my question.
“And now? Do you get to travel around as a mercenary?”
He’s quiet for a while and just when I thought the one sentence was the most I got out of him today, he speaks up.
“Sometimes.”
Wow, for him, that qualifies as being really talkative.
“What was your favorite country so far?”
“Enough questions. And it was Italy. I liked the food.”
“Yeah, that’s understandable,” I chuckle. We are both quiet for a while until I feel the need to break the silence again.
“When I had my first real boyfriend, my father forced his family to move away just so that I couldn’t see him anymore.”
“Excessive.”
“A bit. Bought me my first Birkin afterward.”
“Aren’t those bags fucking expensive?”
“They aren’t exactly cheap,” I say with a laugh, surprised that he knows what I’m talking about. He doesn’t seem like a guy who gives a damn about designer brands, or fashion in general.
It makes me wonder if a girl told him about it. Jealousy spreads in my stomach and I try to ignore how ridiculous this thought process is.
“I have a small collection by now. It’s my father’s way of apologizing, it seems.”
Or his only way of showing affection, but again, I don’t say that. Most of them are really pretty, but I don’t enjoy wearing them. They remind me of all the things he put me through, so I keep the metaphorically blood-stained handbags in the back of my walk-in closet.
“How is your dad able to afford all those things? I mean, this house sure wasn’t cheap. He never told me what exactly he does for a living, only mentioned something about having a company that does international trade.”
“International trade? That’s how he called it?” I can’t help but laugh at my father’s way of twisting the truth.
“Why?”
For the first time today, I keep my mouth shut. I don’t know how much I can tell Samuel. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but I remember how he snooped around while my father was here. And he’s still mostly a stranger, after all. While I hate my father, I don’t want to get myself in trouble by saying too much.
“Nothing, forget what I said. It’s an inside joke between me and him,” I answer as I turn around onto my back again.
“I ordered some new bikinis last night.” I slide my hands over my body until I reach the side ties of my bikini bottoms. I pull them up a bit to check how much of a tan I’ve gotten so far. “You’ll like them.”
Samuel groans, and the sound sends tingles right to my stomach. I’m afraid I’m developing a kink for annoyed men because of him.
As elegantly as possible, I slide down from the inflatable and swim closer to him.
“I meant it when I said I would drown you,” he threatens as he notices me. Like always, I ignore it. Maybe I got too much sun, or maybe I’m just too desperate for him.
His words must have been an empty threat because he does, in fact, not try to drown me. Not even when I’m so close that I can feel the heat he radiates. And he also doesn’t drown me as I put my hands on his body.
Now that I’m standing directly in front of him, I have a good view of the various tattoos that adorn his body. The one on his left shoulder looks like flashes of lightning trailing down to his chest. They end behind a raven that sits on top of a half-buried skull and I”m pretty sure that the tattoo is intentionally placed there to hide the healed scar underneath. Right over his heart.
He flinches as I trace the lines of it, quickly grabbing my hand.
“Usually, people look with their eyes and not with their fingers,” he says sternly, but he still doesn’t shove me away. Not even remotely.
“Sam?”
“What?” He sighs as he looks down at me.
“You ever fucked in a pool?”
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he puts his hands on my waist and pulls me closer.
“If I was yours, I’d let you fuck me anywhere,” I whisper, so close to his body that I can feel his sharp exhale.
It’s a dangerous game that I’m playing, but somehow, we’re both too stubborn to either give in or leave the situation in defeat.
His grip on my waist tightens, his thumbs stroking softly over my stomach, and I see how the muscles in his arms tense up. As if he has to physically keep himself from doing something he might regret.
“You’re already mine, darling.”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Arousal shoots through my veins and as much as I hate to admit it, I am not the one in control right now. My voice sounds desperate as I whisper against his lips.
“Fucking tell me to stop, Sam.”
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he pulls me even closer, and then our lips clash together. It’s a demanding kiss; rough and passionate. It’s messy and filthy, too much of everything and not enough at the same time, as if one of us would die if we’d stop this right now. His fingers dig into my skin as he holds me, my body pressed flush against his.
“God, you’re so damn needy,” he growls before he deepens the kiss. I bite down on his lower lip in return. There is no need for him to act like that. He hisses but doesn’t flinch away, only grabs my hair at the base of my head before he slips his tongue into my mouth.
His cock presses against my stomach beneath the water surface and I don’t know where I found the self-control to not take him out of his pants and end this little game of cat-and-mouse right now.
He lets go of me after a while and I use that opportunity to turn around and lean against the pool edge right next to him. The cold tiles are pleasantly chill compared to our bodies, which feel like they are on fire.
I gasp for air because my body seems to have lost its ability to function.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I can do this.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he says while he lights up another cigarette. How the hell is he able to be so calm while I’m close to a nervous breakdown?
“Could say the same about you.”
My lips still tingle from our kiss and I am more than happy that we’re in the pool, the black fabric of my bikini bottoms hopefully hiding how wet I am because of a kiss.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
I never struggled with keeping physical attraction and feelings separate. Maybe, just maybe, that has to do with the fact that I never kissed the idiots that landed in my bed, if they even made it this far. But Samuel? He has my stomach in knots, as if I’m in high school again. And not even back then did I experience something like this.
So much for “getting my feelings back under control and keeping them locked away”.
I want to rip out the butterflies, or whatever tapeworm is running rampant in my stomach, and drown it right here in this pool. Guess I swallowed too much chlorinated water.
I can’t fall for him. I don’t do feelings. I wish I could say that I don’t have feelings, but that would be a little overboard, and a big, fat lie.
“We should have another movie night soon,” I say as I get out of the pool.
“Only if you behave,” Samuel replies and the way he lets his head rest against the edge of the pool, lazily breathing out smoke, almost makes me want to get back in there and hold on to him until they have to surgically remove me.
“Never,” I say before I step back into the house. I untie my bikini top and throw it right in his face. At least my aim is still good. He tsks, and I swear I hear a tiny laugh coming from him.
As I walk past the dinner table, I notice how his phone vibrates.
“Hey, someone’s calling you,” I yell back outside. “I hope it’s not some other girl, would be a shame if I had to kill her.”
His phone lies with the screen facing down and something inside me keeps me from turning it around to see who is calling him.
Probably my subconsciousness wanting to spare me from getting hurt,I think as I rush up the stairs to my room to take a shower.