Aloha, page 77
My smile falters a bit as I watch the awkwardness between West and Masie. They’ve been on-again, off-again. In private. In public. For four years. As a college student, it was difficult to date a rock star. Their five-year age difference had me concerned at first, especially since Masie was still in high school when they met. But she’s twenty-three and has become the level-headed woman I knew she’d be. She has goals of her own, and while her heart might want to chase the rock star, her head pulls her toward a career for herself.
“How are they doing?” Tommy asks, as if he doesn’t know. As if he doesn’t see the tension nearly visible between Masie and West. Regardless of whatever strain is between them right now, West is still a gentleman. He carried Masie’s bag, and he spreads out her towel on a lounge chair in the VIP section Tommy demands the band reserves for some semblance of privacy. Masie is polite as she thanks West, but their movements are too stilted, too reserved for a young couple.
Tommy slips his hand against mine and entwines our fingers, giving mine a squeeze. “They’ll figure it out,” he states when I don’t answer him immediately. The comment is a reminder to let them figure it out. Tommy knows it’s been a struggle for me. I don’t want to see my girl’s heart broken. I don’t want West’s to break either.
“Okay, swimming time,” Tommy says, slipping into the pool while still holding my hand and distracting me from my children.
“Tommy,” I warn as he tugs me forward, not releasing my fingers, until I’m almost falling into the water face first.
“Pool, darlin’,” he murmurs, dipping his broad body lower and blowing bubbles against the surface.
Gingerly, I slide into the pool. “It’s cold.” I suck in a breath at the sudden shock creeping up my body, especially over my waistline.
Tommy reaches out and tugs me flush to him. “I’ll warm you up.”
“Thomas,” I warn. His tone is recognizable. Sight unseen, I’m certain there’s a gleam in his eyes. He wants to do things in this pool that need to be saved for the privacy of our room.
His hands coast over my hips and around to my backside, drawing me tighter against him. I wrap my arms around his neck and lower my body beneath the surface, lining us up in all the ways we shouldn’t be, considering this is a crowded resort pool in broad daylight.
Tommy hums, squeezing my ass cheeks underneath the water. “I remember the first time I saw you here.”
“Really?” My brows lift as I pull back and stare at my reflection in his sunglasses.
“Prettiest woman at the pool.”
I laugh, deep and loud. He’s so full of shit. “Really?” Sarcasm drips from the question.
Tommy tugs me harder, forcing my legs to spread wider and wrap around his hips. “Knew you were going to wreck me in the best of ways.”
“You knew no such thing.” I chuckle.
“Saw you staring at me. Drinking me in.”
“So, it was all about you. Your ego,” I tease. Tommy might be the most level-headed man I know. He’s had his time in the limelight, and he’s happy to be on the sidelines now, managing Collision and helping this newer, younger band be all they can be. He’s the first to say fame is fleeting. Enjoy it while you can. Let it go when you can’t enjoy it anymore.
Tommy chuckles. “More like all about my dick, darlin’.” His bluntness does not surprise me. “But my heart was already singing a tune as well.”
“Really?” I ask again. “And what song was it singing?”
I’m awful at music trivia and Tommy’s going to tell me some obscure song I’ve never heard of by some band he thinks I should know but won’t. It’s our own inside joke. Then again, he’s a closet Bee-Gees fan, and it’s one of my favorite things about him. When we watched a documentary about the Gibb brothers, I understood Tommy’s attraction to them even more. They were musical geniuses.
“Reunited.” Tommy hums a few bars of the 1970s song.
“Wasn’t that a breakup song?”
Tommy continues to hum, his gravelly sound growing stronger and louder. “Was. But I mean the title is perfect for us. You’re the other half of my heart. Now I’m whole.”
“Tommy,” I whisper. He can be too charming when he wants to be. Lifting his glasses so I can see his dark eyes, I’m not surprised the brown is nearly eclipsed with black. “You’re the other half of me, too, honey.”
I should have expected it, but I didn’t. The rush of his mouth. The firm hand on the back of my head. The thrust of his tongue. When he’s sweet toward me and I’m sweet right back, it’s like a switch flips. He’s on fire for me.
“We need out of this pool,” he mutters against my lips. “Because you in this suit . . . it needs to come off.”
He tugs at the bottom of my tankini beneath the water, letting it snap back against my skin before abruptly standing with me still wrapped around him.
I lower my legs to stand on my own and Tommy slips a hand between us to adjust himself. He’s about to give everyone a show, because beneath that form fitting suit of his is a steel rod of desire that can’t be disguised. Tommy spins me so my back is to his front, and he walks us to the stairs, using me as his shield.
“Gonna get a room, old man?” Petty teases from where he sits on a lounger in the VIP section.
“Be respectful,” Tommy snaps at his band member.
Petty’s gaze snaps to me, and he mouths, Sorry. I shake my head, dismissing him. Sometimes the over-fifty band manager is as bad as the younger set in the horny department.
Tommy wraps a towel around his waist and leans forward to snag my beach bag while I wrap a skirt around my lower half.
“Where you going, Uncle Tommy?” Emmaline calls from the pool, all innocent and sweet. Her blond curls are slicked back from the water.
“Naptime, baby girl,” he calls back, taking my hand in his.
“You’re too old for naps.” She giggles with love for her great-uncle.
“Never too old for afternoon delight,” he mumbles, squeezing my hand.
“What’s afternoon delight?” Ava asks next, louder than her little sister. The wise brunette sees and hears everything lately.
“Jesus,” Gage mutters from his spot in the pool. “Really, old man?” He arches a brow at his uncle by marriage, band manager, and truest friend. As if Gage is any less affectionate toward his wife in front of his children. Sometimes when he kisses her, it’s almost obscene.
“Watch who you’re calling old. When you’re my age, you’ll still be wishing you could nap like me.”
The sexual euphemisms are flying like weakly aimed arrows and it’s time to end this charade of napping.
“Tommy,” I whisper, and his attention comes back to me. “Take me to bed.”
“Working on it, darlin’.” My arm is almost pulled from the socket as he leads me through the pool area and into the lobby of the hotel.
I expect us to head directly to our suite. The penthouse is still rented by the Everly’s, especially as their family has grown. Tommy got us a luxury suite, and for the first time, purchased a separate room for Masie. Caleb doesn’t mind bunking with West and Petty.
Instead of our room, though, Tommy detours us down a hallway that leads toward the bar. I’m a little disappointed as I wasn’t anticipating a drink first. Then he veers us again and we’re walking down a hallway that brings back all the memories.
Me leaving the bar early.
Him chasing me.
Then Tommy dragging me into an empty conference room like he’s doing right now.
“Tommy.” I giggle like a schoolgirl. “It’s the middle of the day.”
“Perfect time for afternoon delight.” He spins me once we are inside the vacant space and locks the door behind me.
He drops my pool bag and I’m instantly pressed up against the door. His mouth captures mine, making me almost dizzy with his urgency. Five years later, and he still kisses me like he might lose me. Like I might disappear, which I’d never do to him.
His large hand skims down the front of my still wet bathing suit and slips underneath my beach skirt.
“Drop the bottoms, darlin’.”
I should scold him. Remind him we’re in a public space. Someone could walk in at any moment. But this is our routine. Once a year, upon our return, we reunite with this room where he first kissed me and touched me after years of sexual drought. And we’d only met about six hours earlier.
I wasn’t like that. I didn’t attract men like a magnet or let them touch me within a blink of meeting them.
But Tommy had been different.
And I do as he asks, knowing I’m not getting out of this room without him touching me.
It takes some effort to roll down my tankini bottoms, also still wet and clinging to my skin. Once I do, I step out of them and Tommy swipes them up like dainty panties, not water-drenched spandex. He drops the wet mess into my bag before sliding his hand between my thighs again. His fingers disappear beneath the skirt and easily find what he seeks.
“You’re soaked.”
I don’t have a chance to respond as his mouth covers mine at the same time two fingers glide into me. My breath hitches with the suddenness, but I quickly settle into the rhythm he sets, working me over with the strength of his fingers and the intensity of his touch.
I moan against his mouth, warning him with the sound how close I am. His kisses deepen. His tongue swirls. His fingers thrust until I crash like the ocean waves outside.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he hums, knowing what he’s done to my body. “God, I love you.”
“I love you.” The declaration is a breathless whisper as I’m still spiraling from his touch.
“Return the favor.” It’s another private joke and more of a question than a command, like that first time. He’s asking permission, acknowledging this room isn’t the dark, late-night escape from a bar but filtered with late afternoon sunlight streaming through the limited windows covered by lowered blinds.
Spinning, I give him my back, giving him my answer.
I hear the rip of the Velcro securing his swim shorts and feel the breeze of air conditioning as my bare backside is exposed when Tommy lifts my skirt.
“Gonna be quick,” he warns. Tommy is a ferocious lover for his age. Gentle and sweet sometimes. Hot and rushed at others.
This is what I do to him. And what he does to me.
I lower my forehead to the closed door and brace for the swiftness of his thrust. Once planted inside me, he stills, and I melt over him. He pauses a second, nibbling along my neck before biting me in that spot that will turn me into a puddle.
“Darlin’,” he growls before pulling back and surging forward again, setting a new pace that expresses his urgent desire. He reaches around me, plucking at my clit, but this round is all for him and I brush his hand away. He typically doesn’t like that—me denying him—but I’ll let him make it up to me once we are in our room. For now, I want him to break.
My breath hitches. My back arches. I groan deep and throaty, carving his name into two syllables. “Tom-my.”
He releases a strained grunt to accompany his finish as he pours into me. His fingertips dig into my hips. His body slowing but still thrusting, dipping, filling me.
“Edie,” he groans, lowering his forehead to my shoulder as we both pant from the exertion. We aren’t as young as we used to be, but our desire for one another remains on the rise.
“You undo me. Every damn time,” he murmurs against my cool skin. Next, he moves to my ear, his bristly cheek brushing mine. His voice drops, serious but tender. “I’m so grateful you married me.”
“I’m thankful, too,” I whisper, caught off guard by a sudden swell of emotion.
“No regrets,” he says, leaning so he can better see my face.
I twist to view him over my shoulder. “Never.”
He smiles slowly, crooking up one side of his mouth before the other joins. Then, he’s kissing me, slow and sweet, assuring me with his kiss he’s never regretted a day together either.
From the moment I saw this man, I had no idea he’d undo me in all the ways he has. He made me feel desired and loved, despite all my body and heart had been through in the past. He’d been good to me. And he’d wanted me in his life, constantly by his side.
It’s why he asked me to be his wife. And why I accepted.
And during this holiday vacation we’ll be celebrating how we’d married on New Year’s Day, wanting to start another year with love in our hearts and holding each other’s hand.
In the exact place where it all started.
Beautiful Hawaii.
Want the full story of Tommy and Edie? Read After Care. Stay up to date on all things L.B. Dunbar at www.lbdunbar.com.
Horny and Healing in Hawaii
Lauren Rowe
Part One
Bye, Bye, Brayden
I’m trembling as Brayden looks into my eyes and delivers his wedding vows. My heart is pounding like a drum against my chest. The soft sounds of audience members sniffling through happy tears are drowned out by the rush of emotions coursing through me. Rage at how effectively Brayden fooled and betrayed me. Shame that I didn’t suspect the truth before finding those texts. Not once. How could I have been so blind and stupid?
“And that’s when I knew you’d become my wife one day,” Brayden says, his blue eyes locked with mine, and my stomach somersaults. Now that I know his words are all lies, watching him say them so smoothly and convincingly is actually terrifying. Have I been in love with a monster this whole time? He smiles and says, “I knew in that moment I’d never find a better wife or mother to my children. Julia, I knew right then I wanted to grow old with you. To protect you and love you and be your best friend and teammate through life, forever. Julia, I promise to always . . .”
I can’t take it anymore. I tune him out, even as I maintain eye contact. When I overheard Brayden’s phone conversation two days ago, I couldn’t believe my ears. I had to have misheard him, I thought. Misunderstood somehow. But then, after clever, loyal Delilah easily figured out the passcode to her big brother’s phone, and I was able to get into my fiancé’s closely guarded device while he slept, the truth couldn’t be denied any longer. In less than twenty hours, I was scheduled to marry a serial cheater. A liar. A man who clearly never really loved me. A gold digger.
I would have cancelled the wedding right then and there, if I could have gotten even half the money back for my father. But since the wedding was too close to recoup a single dime, I decided not to let the money go to waste. What better reason to party and celebrate with the people I love the most than me escaping from a monster, mere hours before pledging my eternal love to him? Hatching my plan gave me a reason to stop sobbing on the bathroom floor. It made me put down the bottle of sleeping pills, get up, and start furiously writing the speech I’m mere seconds away from delivering to Brayden in front of all his family and friends.
“Julia?” the wedding officiant says, right on cue. Brayden has finished his personalized vows. It’s my turn now.
With shaking hands, I pull the folded paper from my bra, making everyone in the congregation chuckle. I’ve always been a planner. Nothing left to chance. That’s Julia for you. Do you have a headache? Ask Julia. Surely, she’s got some Tylenol in her purse. A button popped off your dress? Ask Julia. She’s probably got a needle and thread in her purse. But what could I have stuffed into my purse to prepare for this moment—when the man I thought I loved would turn out to be a fucking sociopath?
I take a deep breath as I survey the typewritten words in my trembling hand, and when I’ve mustered my courage, I look into Brayden’s smiling face. “Brayden, I thought about it, and couldn’t figure out the perfect words for this one-of-a-kind, special moment, so I decided to quote you, since you always know exactly what to say, no matter the situation or occasion. I’ll never forget the first time you said to me, ‘Julia, I’ll love you forever and a day, come what may.’ It brought tears to my eyes. You saw how much that touched me, so you made it your mantra. Your catchphrase, if you will. And I loved it.’” I look at the audience. “I genuinely believed him. Loved him, heart and soul.” I return to Brayden. “But, as it turns out, on one of the days you said those words to me—on Thursday of last week, to be exact—you also told a gorgeous blonde named Beth, an exotic dancer with extremely large breasts, ‘I can’t wait to taste your sweet pussy again, baby. I can’t wait to—‘”
As gasps and shocked exclamations rumble through the chapel, Brayden snatches the paper out of my hands. But I don’t need the paper now. Brayden’s betrayals are burned into my gray matter.
“And to a woman named Willow,” I say, raising my voice to be heard above the rising chaos in the chapel, “you texted: ‘My work meeting finished early, baby. I’m heading over now. Get ready to get railed.’”
Even louder gasps and exclamations erupt in the chapel. People are standing. Moving. Brayden holds up his palms to the audience. “My phone was hacked. If you’ll give us a minute, we’ll—”
“There’s no more ‘we,’ Brayden,” I grit out. “There’s me and the liar who can go fuck himself.” I turn to the audience. “The date and time of his text to Willow was three minutes after we’d finished tasting cakes for our wedding reception. We unexpectedly fell in love with the first cake and cut the tasting short. Brayden supposedly rushed back to work to close an important deal after that. Little did I know, he was actually rushing off to rail Willow.”
Brayden grabs my arm. He says he can explain everything. He begs me to listen to him. But when the best man thankfully pulls him away from me, I’m able to continue my planned speech.
