Page 10 of Restored Dreams

He’s right, and in one swift move, I’m on my back, Brut’s hand cupping my head so I don’t hit the sand and his upper body pressing over mine. He licks his lips and bites the plump curve of the lower one, peering down at me like he’s ready to attack.

“Say you forgive me, Lil.”

“I forgive you.” His eyes search my face, reading me. I speak in earnest. It was a long time ago and holding a grudge takes too much negative energy. Lauren is a perfect testament to such negativity.

“Lil,” he says, his voice soft, his dusky blue eyes softening. His eyes grow more intense as he gazes down at me, stroking my hair around my ear. I’ve seen this look on him. The one that says he wants me, but he doesn’t want to give in. We already lived this struggle when I was nineteen. I can’t go through this again. Not with this man. “I’m sorry anyone ever hurt you, especially me.”

“It’s okay,” I say from habit but not from truth. It’s not okay, and we both know it. What he did to me, to us, and all the rest of my history is not acceptable. Good thing we are adults now and can accept the past.

“It’s never going to be okay,” he says, still holding himself off my upper body, but my lower portion beats in rapid succession underneath him—a rhythm ripe for friction. My core rests under the heat of his abs, which I know are hard, but not quite the part of him that can soothe the pulsing ache.

“It already is okay,” I offer because it is. Life moved on. Brut got Chopper. I have my bakery. Brad is gone. Lauren too.

“Really? Are you really all good, Lily?”

I want to say I am, but the truth is, I could be better. I’m perfectly happy with Because Cupcakes, and I’m living a dream with my small business. Life is good, but it isn’t perfect. I’m still missing what I yearned for at nineteen. Love. Marriage. A baby.

“Lily pad.” His voice is so low it blends with the breeze, begging me for something I can’t read.

“Don’t kiss me,” I blurt, sucking back a breath as I curse myself. Why would I say this? As if he wants to. The truth is I don’t trust myself if his lips touch mine. I’ll take too much from a man never willing to give in to me. His body shifts, and of their own volition, my knees spread, opening my thighs for him to slip between them. He’s balancing on his elbows, still sweeping back my hair with each toss of the evening air.

“I can’t,” I say although I don’t know what I’m denying. I only know if he kisses me, I’ll combust. So he nods once and presses up on his hands like a push-up over me. He’s prepping to stand only the motion shifts his lower half forward and something hard, long, and firm thrusts at my center.

I moan, my head tipping back, sand mixing in my hair as the tip of him taps at the beat strumming my core.

“Lil?” he questions, and I’m too mortified to speak. He knows where we connect. He knows what he’s done to me. So, he repeats.

My hands dig in the sand as my knees fall farther open. I’m willing him to get off me and begging him to stay in the same breath as my eyes close. His hips roll, and he spears me again. Clothing protects us from going any further, but I’m flung back in time to grinding on Brut on the leather couch in the office of his garage. The memory mixes with a fantasy of him taking me on this sand, and before I know it, I’m pressing back at him, hands on his quivering biceps, nails digging into skin.

Holy shit.

The world dissolves into a million grains of pebbly stone. I’m one with the sand underneath me, sifting, shifting, drifting.

Slumping back into the grainy ground, I feel my heart race as I take in a jagged breath. My head lolls to the side. I can’t face him. I can’t believe what I’ve done. Fully clothed, I might add. Within record time.

“Lily pad.” The question in my name along with the hint of smug pride nearly brings me to tears. My eyes prickle, and my head swings back to face him. I don’t even fully form the words get up before he kneels back from my glare. My legs are still spread on either side of him, and I awkwardly sit up, my knees trembling as I try to bring them together.

Brut towers upward and reaches for my hands. I want to tell him not to touch me. I need him to step back because his presence overwhelms me. His aura. His scent. Not to mention, I’m so thoroughly embarrassed. The way my legs rattle, though, I know I can’t stand on my own, so begrudgingly, I accept his warm fingers. Once upright, he continues to hold my hands, rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles.

“Brut, I…” I begin, tugging back as he holds firm.

“Lil…” he starts, but I free one hand and raise it palm up to him.

“Just…just stay right there.” He releases my other hand, and I back up slowly, speaking to him like a rabid animal about to attack. Good boy, stay. Please, don’t come near me. I want a sinkhole to open and just suck me in. My undies are soaked, and I don’t allow myself to look down at his zipper region, afraid to see he’s still hard, afraid to see he didn’t come. My lids lazily blink, and I take another hesitant, humiliated step backward.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. Brut steps forward, his mouth opening to speak, and that’s my cue. I turn on shaky feet and sprint for the house, relieved when he doesn’t follow me.

9

Buckets are for collecting rare things

[Lily]

The next morning, I find a kid’s yellow plastic pail on the counter with a Post-it note: Fill me. Inside are the shells he put in his pocket yesterday. I cover my lips with my fingers as I grin, fighting back memories of the night before. I came so hard I saw stars, and he gives me a bucket.

Brut bought me a bucket to collect seashells. I squeal inside, warming at the sweet gesture. Picking up the pail, I cross the living room and exit the double doors for the fresh air and a new day. I’m hoping not to see Brut because I’m still too embarrassed over what happened and how I reacted to him. I’m almost to the foamy sea on the sand when I catch something out of the corner of my eye. Brut is running toward me, bare chested. His shirt dangles from his shorts as he slows to a jog when he nears me.

“Seashell collecting?” He stops short before me, his lips curving into a full smile. I’m blinded for a moment. The white scruff, the whiter teeth, and the sheen of sweat on his brow. He’s too sexy for his own good.