Bliss Brothers (Complete Series), page 52
I love it. I can’t help but love it.
“God, yes,” Huck groans. “If it works this time, we’ll both be free.”
Because last time—in his house, with the bathrobe, which sounds like the setup for a game of Clue—was meant to get this all out of our systems so we can stand to look at each other until we’re away. So we can focus on our jobs, and not the fact that all we want to do is hang out with each other.
That’s all I want to do, anyway. I was perfectly happy with four hours of Netflix after our last naked hang sesh.
I could do that with him forever. Especially if he orders pizza, which Huck is always willing to do.
He resumes kissing my neck, and I resume fucking falling for it, just like every other time.
Huck kisses around to the front of my neck and pulls me close, his hands working at the button clasp at the front of my jeans. Today was the first day we had cool enough weather to wear jeans on the docks, and it scares the shit out of me. Honestly, it does, because it means the time is getting away from me. September is slipping away, and it’ll be October, and then this…this will be over, whatever this is.
“Promise me,” I say, my voice ragged. “Promise me you’ll still talk to me when I’m at my job.” The breath I take is superheated, burning its way into my lungs and spreading across my chest. I want him inside of me, and I want him to promise me, even if the inevitable truth still stalks ahead of us like the ghost of Breakups Future. Distance always changes people. It almost changed us before. He can’t promise, but I want him to. I want it.
I feel the way his muscles tense and freeze, the way his body goes still, and the way he starts moving again so smoothly I almost could have imagined it. “Of course I’ll talk to you.” Huck is absolutely sincere, but there’s a breathless break in his voice that tells me he’d rather not talk about this.
“I don’t want it to be like college again.” In sex, the truth comes out. I think that’s a saying. My knees tremble as he strokes his hands down my sides, making his way steadily down to the waistband of my jeans.
“I don’t want it to be like that, either. You know what I do want it to be like?”
“What?”
“The other day at my place. Only better. Only…” He tugs my pants down over my hips, kneeling so I can step out of them. Then he does the same to my panties. And I am painfully aware that there are no curtains on the windows of the boathouse, that anyone could see, and it makes my nipples peak and harden. Huck stands up behind me and glides his hand around to the front of me, stroking two confident fingers between my still-spread legs. “Yeah. Like that.”
“Like what?”
“Even wetter. Keep your hands on the desk.”
“What—what are you, the boss of me?” I have to force the joke out on a breathy whisper because every single sense is pinpointed on my nipples, on my clit.
“Right now I am. Like it?”
“Fucking…love…it.” If anyone’s watching, I love that too. It’s such a dirty urge, straight out of the fantasies I let play in my head when I’m alone at night. I’ve been alone so many nights that the thought of someone watching…
It makes me even wetter.
Huck must feel it against his fingers. I couldn’t hide it from him if I tried, and I don’t want to try.
“So filthy.”
I rock back against him, because I can’t do anything else. I don’t want to do anything else. There’s the slide of metal on metal and then it’s flesh on flesh, his hardness against my opening, and I bend forward to let Huck have his way with me up against the reception desk. The moment he thrusts in, the moment he hits home, the air goes out of my lungs and the next breath is sweet and pure and so rich, so, so rich, I could eat it for breakfast.
His fingertips circle my clit, a slow, lazy rhythm as he pumps faster, thrusts harder—oh, oh, oh fuck.
“That’s it,” he coaxes. “Come for me. Let it all out.”
I do. I do, I do, I do.
13
Huck
“It didn’t work. It’s still in my system. Do you think I should see a doctor?” I say all of this as quickly as possible when Katie opens the door to her little rented house. It’s supposed to sound fake, supposed to make her laugh, but the way my heart knocks against my ribs and raced itself into a desperate cadence at the thought of seeing her isn’t a joke. “This is not your childhood home, by the way.”
Her eyebrows fly up to her hairline. “Did you go to my old house? What are you doing here?”
“I asked first.” Katie doesn’t need to know that I’d assumed she was living with her mom this summer. I’d wrapped my head around making small talk with Mrs. Lennon and the prospect of pinning Katie against the door of her childhood bedroom, but not for the possibility of looking like a total fucking idiot when Katie’s mom opened the door. It’s been a while since I saw her around at Ruby Bay, since I haven’t been in Ruby Bay, but it seems like things have improved. Improved so much, in fact, that Katie rented her own house for the summer.
Katie laughs, her gray eyes searching mine. “You don’t look feverish. I don’t think a doctor could help you. Not at this point, anyway. Also…” She frowns, but I see the smile lingering in her eyes. “What are you doing? You could have called, like a regular person.”
“I think you mean I could have texted, like a regular person. Are you going to let me in?”
Katie opens the door with a flourish, and I step inside and wait for her to close it behind us before I round on her, scooping her up in my arms and pressing her back against the door. I kiss her full on the mouth, devouring her sweetness, because that’s what I’ve wanted to do since I opened my eyes this morning and I’m not waiting another second.
Honestly, every second that I’m not with her seems like an enormous waste of life.
She murmurs something against my lips, but I ignore it until I’m done tasting her.
For the moment.
I set her back on her feet. “What was that?”
“I said, if you keep kissing me like that, we might accidentally ruin our friendship.”
“Total bull,” I tell her. “This was supposed to be about honesty, anyway, and having a nice hang sesh before you leave for Seattle. Or LA. Or wherever you’re going.” I say it casually, like saying it casually will make it feel casual, even though it does not feel casual. Having Katie on the other side of the country feels like being plunged back into the dark ages. It’s bullshit, but it’s inevitable. “And honestly,” I press on. “I missed you, and I came over. But I think I have a terrible disease.”
She puts a hand on my chest. “You don’t have to pretend to be afflicted in order to come see me.”
“I’m sick with it.” I clasp a hand over hers. “It torments me.”
“Is it that bad?” Her voice is filled with concern that would seem very nearly genuine if her eyes weren’t dancing. “What can I do to make it better?”
“There’s nothing that can be done,” I moan, because she’s starting to break, she’s starting to lose it, and I love it when she laughs. I can’t help myself. I love it.
I love…
No.
My mind shies away from admitting it even in the privacy of my brain. I did not come back to Bliss to fall in love like a fucking fool. I came here to have a good time. I came here, I realize in a rush, to get it out of my system.
“Nothing?” cries Katie, and my heart thud-thuds in recognition of a very, very old game we’re playing. Only it has new rules. “Nothing at all? Please, tell me, Huck. Is there anything I can do to save you?”
I tip my head back and stare blankly at the ceiling. “You can get naked, Katie Lennon,” I say on a rattling wheeze. “You can get naked, and bring me back from the verge of death.”
She loses it then, absolutely loses it, snorting with laughter. “Oh my god, that voice is so unsexy. It’s awful. Don’t do that. I’ll do anything to make it stop.” Katie leans in close, pressing a kiss to my exposed collarbone. I reach up and yank my shirt back.
“That seemed to help.” I keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Do it again.”
She does it again, and the feeling arcs down over the front of my lips and sends a jolt of pleasure straight between my legs.
“You’re a true friend,” I wheeze.
Katie laughs again, but I hear the hesitation in her voices—I hear that microsecond of silence before the sound, and it winds my mind clean around it and twists it off in a knot that’s going to be impossible to unravel. She wants to be friends. That’s all she wants. She can’t stop saying it. Yet when I bring it up…
“Let’s get this off of you,” she says, with all the authority of a nurse on duty. “It may be the only thing that saves your life.”
Just like that, we’re back in the game.
“The light,” I croak. “The light…” Teeth dig into the front of my chest. Teeth. “You bit me!”
Katie straightens up, looking at me with a dead serious expression. “I did what I had to do to get you to stop doing that fucking voice.” She reaches for her top with the same focused expression. “I hope this seals the deal.”
The shirt comes off over her head and drops to the floor from her perfect fingertips.
She doesn’t have a bra on underneath.
In effect, Katie has just unleashed the most perfect breasts ever to grace the planet on my eyes.
“I swear I will never do the voice again,” I promise. “I swear it on my mother’s life, and on these two nipples here in front of me.”
“Huck?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
I back up a step, wrenching my hand away using every last bit of my self-control. “I’m only here to try to rid myself of this vicious obsession.”
“Do you think I don’t have the same one?” Katie bites her lip. This is part of the game, too, this supercharged game that seems like it could turn deadly. Not literally deadly, but…heartbreak lingers on the border. That’s all I’m saying. “Why do you think I opened the door to you?” She pounces on me then, climbing up and kissing me, wild and free and without abandon. “We don’t have much time,” she whispers into my ear. Someone should hire her for a post-apocalyptic movie. She’d fit right in.
No—she’d be a standout. She’d be a hit. Even in my imagination, I don’t want the rest of the world looking at her like that. So what if that makes me a hypocrite? This is an honest moment.
“Who’s the creepy one now?”
“Me.” Katie tips her head down and nips at my earlobe, which sends a frisson of goose bumps down my back like the wake behind a boat. My cock jumps to attention—to even closer attention—and my shorts respond by constricting me to a degree I hadn’t thought possible until this moment.
“Can you stop being creepy long enough to make out?”
She brings her lips to mine, tugs my bottom lip between her teeth, and almost makes me come early. “Message received.” Then she pulls back and points upstairs. “Bedroom.”
I don’t walk. I run.
14
Katie
Huck sleeps in my bed with total abandon, arms thrown over his head, sheet pulled down to his hips.
It’s a sight to behold.
I mean, he really does have a perfect body. It’s stunningly, stupidly perfect, and watching him sleep makes me feel a lot of feelings. Like—how did I spend all those years sitting so close to him and never pounce on him? How did I ignore the tension between us when it’s so obvious and unavoidable now? Why does it feel like being on my favorite ride at Disney World just to look at him? Never mind the way it feels when we’re wrapped around one another in bed.
My feet are already disconnected from the ground from the sex. I’m already floating high above the earth’s surface, looking down on Ruby Bay and wondering what I’ve been doing with my life. My stomach hums with the anticipation of it all. What happens now? What happens later?
He stirs, his eyes opening to slits, and then he rolls over on his left side. His breathing stays deep and even.
Still asleep.
I turn and pad out of the room, pulling on a robe as I go. I can’t get caught staring at him again.
From the middle of the stairs, I hear my phone buzz against the kitchen counter. That thing is loud, and the last thing I want to do is wake a peacefully sleeping man. I jump down two at a time and sprint into the kitchen, snatching it up before it can ring a third time.
“Hello?”
“Did I catch you in the middle of having sex?” It’s Libby. Of course.
“Jesus.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “No. I wouldn’t answer the phone if I was having sex.” It’s laughable, the thought of untangling myself from Huck to answer a phone call, but the giggle that comes out of my mouth threatens to give me away. “You caught me…” I clear my throat, because apparently doing anything with Huck turns me into the most obvious person in the world. “You caught me at the perfect time. But why are you calling?” Back to Libby. Keep the focus on her. “Aren’t you on your fancy European honeymoon?” They’re in France, I think.
“Yes, but I couldn’t sleep.” There’s a soft rustle in the background like she’s turning over in bed. It’s late here, so it has to be really late there. Or really early.
“So you thought you’d wake me up? Very considerate.” I trail into the living room and fall into the sofa. I wish I were falling into Huck’s arms, the urge so powerful I almost throw my phone across the room and run back to the bedroom. But I don’t. Of course I don’t. “What’s going on?”
“Europe is great,” Libby says. “So much to do, so much to see, France is a dream, all that.”
“Tell me about it.” I’ve never been to Europe. Study abroad seemed too expensive and complicated at the time, and now I feel like flying across the ocean will knock me off course. I could fall in love with Europe, a desperate, heartsick love, and then where would I be? Rearranging my whole life around it and jetting off into the unknown? Still, I wouldn’t mind living vicariously through her. “France, right? The south of France?”
“The south of France is wonderful.” I detect a note of wistfulness in her voice. “But,” Libby continues briskly, “I’d rather hear about you. I’m dying to know what became of Huck Bliss.” I can practically see her pursing her lips. “I know it didn’t end with a little romp in his bed after the wedding. I know there are details.”
“Seriously? From your honeymoon? You want details about this while you’re supposed to be having the best time of your life and not thinking about anybody except your husband?” I shake my head, though I know she can’t see it. Outside my living room window, a street lamp flickers on and off. On. Off. On. Off.
“Hell yes. It’s time to go ahead and admit that you’ve always had a thing for him.”
“I have not. It’s just easy for us to get along, because we—”
“Because you have a thing for him. And now my wedding has brought you together.” She sounds so proud of herself.
“That’s…one way to think about it.”
“You’re so stubborn, Katie. Fine. I will go ahead and admit that the job at Bliss brought you together, but what’s the real story there, hmm? Did you really take a job swabbing down the decks as your weird idea of a vacation?”
“Yes. That was my reasoning exactly. You know that. And we don’t swab any decks.”
Libs gives an exasperated sigh. “So, after the great bed incident…how has it been? Awkward? Fine? Are you two out there brimming with sexual tension while you run on the beach in your bikini?”
I laugh out loud, then freeze. There’s no hint of movement from upstairs. “I don’t wear a bikini. I wear a polo or a t-shirt. So wipe that image from your mind. And it’s…” The laugh dies in my throat, because I’m rapidly approaching truth territory. It’s too late at night to lie to Libby, and one image after another plays out in my mind. Huck’s smile from the other side of a sailboat. The way his eyes linger on mine. His muscles working as he helps me back onto the dock.
It’s awkward in the best way. It’s awkward because I barely need an alarm to wake up, I’m so excited to get to the docks and see him. It’s awkward because, at the end of the day, all I want is to make plans with him. I’ve never gotten sick of those plans. Not once.
“It’s the middle of the night, Katie, just tell me. Tell me before the sun rises,” Libby demands.
“Honestly, it’s really good. Things at work—they’re really, really good.” My throat closes in and my lungs stop taking in air. Oh, no. Oh no. “I don’t even know how to describe—” By the time I get halfway through the sentence the tears take over, hot and insistent. I was a raw nerve already from the sex, and now I’m a blubbering raw nerve spilling my guts to a person who is in France and shouldn’t even be awake right now.
“Katie, are you crying?” A more urgent rustle. She must be sitting up, though—what good is sitting up going to do? Libs is in France. “Did something happen? Something happened, didn’t it? What happened?”
“I’m only crying because it’s so good.” I take a big, shuddering breath and fail completely at coming down. “You know. You know how he is.”
“I do,” she agrees. “I mean, not as well as you do, but he made that toast, so…” The toast. It always comes back to the toast. I should keep a piece of toast in a locket, for how much that toast has come to mean. “What’s the deal? What’s the problem? If it’s good, why is it making you so sad?”
“We slept together. We…kept sleeping together. And I really like it. And I really like him. I…more than like him. And there’s nothing I can do about it.” I clap my hand over my mouth and sob silently so she can’t hear.
And he can’t hear.
“What are you talking about? There’s plenty to do. Date. Stay in Ruby Bay. Who cares?”
“I have three offers. I have to take one of them. That was the plan. I didn’t get a pointless degree just to…just to…”
“Fall in love?”
“I can’t fall in love with him, Libs. What if it goes sour? Then I’ve lost my best friend.”
