Page 5 of Restored Dreams

“Here,” I offer, stepping to her. She blinks up at me, and I grab the arms of the shirt, readjusting the material and tightening it around her toned waist as she stands upright. She’s wearing a body-hugging workout shirt which cuts over her boobs like a bikini. Tight triangular material barely contains the heavy globes and my tongue thickens, wanting to lick the space between them. Get a hold of yourself, man. Khaki shorts, frayed at the hem, rest underneath the shirt. Her feet are bare, toes wiggling against the sand. I’m close—too close—and the fresh salty air mingles with the scent of her—sunshine, tropical fruit, and morning.

My hands pause on the tied shirt, and I look up to find her eyes watching me. Brilliant and blue like the heavens above us, the color hasn’t changed one bit in twenty years. If only she still looked at me like she did twenty years ago, I might feel complete. Instead, I feel like a puzzle poured out of the box for the first time. Pieces scattering, nothing matching, waiting to be assembled.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice hardly more than a whisper. She licks her lip before biting at a corner, and I swallow back the desire to lean forward, wondering if she tastes the same. A wayward hair blows across her face in the morning breeze, and she raises her wrist to swipe at the strands. Her hair is more a caramel color than the brilliant blonde from when she was a teen. Cut short—just above her shoulders—she has it pulled back in two pigtails, one behind each ear.

“What’s in your hands?” I chuckle, seeing her struggle with the loose pieces from her pigtails. My fingers act of their own accord and sweep back the tendrils, tucking them behind her ear. They’re too short, so they immediately fall loose again, and I repeat the motion, lingering at her ear a moment before my fingers skitter down her neck and release her.

“Seashells.” Her voice croaks. She coughs to clear it and holds up her full fists. Another shell falls free, and when I bend, I see several near her feet. As I pick them up, my eyes travel over her bare, tan toes wiggling in the sand. I continue my journey up her shins, dripping with droplets of the sea spray. Her thighs clamp together as my view climbs, and I take note of how short her shorts are on her toned legs. I stand slowly, remaining in her space. Holding out the three dropped shells, I notice she doesn’t really have any more room in her small hands to carry them.

“What are you doing with all these?” I smile as I ask, positioning the shells in my open palm.

“I don’t really know yet, but they were too pretty to pass up.”

Too pretty to pass up. The words catch in the wind and swirl around my chest. This is Lily. She’s so pretty, and I don’t think I can pass her up again. I slip the three shells into my pocket instead of returning them to her.

“Is this where you were this morning?” I nod, implying the beach. The words release harsher than I intended, but the question mixes with my relief she didn’t leave. Another thought strikes me. She could have met someone for coffee and enjoyed a little morning delight, and I hate that I’m guiltily projecting on her what I want to do with her.

“I was up early and went for a walk.” Her eyes narrow in the blazing sun.

“I thought you left. Maybe reconsidered staying.”

“Do you want me to go?” Her quick question comes out small, hesitant and edging. No, absolutely not, I want to respond, but I hold back the truth. She bites her lip again, and I tug at the tender flesh with my thumb, lingering on the plumpness of the bottom curve a second longer than necessary before releasing her.

“No, we’re good.” I said we could work it out, and I plan to keep my promise. Maybe she’ll at least have dinner with me and let me explain myself from years ago. Not gonna happen, buddy.

But then I see her eyes roam my body, taking in my naked chest. I take a deep breath and watch her eyes expand as my pecs heave. Is she checking me out? A flicker of hope sparks within me, and my lip curls. It’s a nice feeling to have someone scan my skin like she is.

Another hair blows across her face, sticking to her lips, and the pad of my fingertip can’t resist. I swipe the strand against her cheek and tuck it behind her ear, holding it in place. My fingers linger.

“I must look a mess.” Her face pinks, and I want to trace the dawning color on her skin.

“You look beautiful, Lily pad.” The truth escapes me, but I’m being honest. She looks incredible. Her cheeks flush, and her eyes shift away. She chews at her lip. Please let me kiss you.

“Well, enjoy your surf,” she mutters, tugging her head free from my fingers and tipping it toward my board. She ignores my compliment.

“Thanks,” I mutter, my heart dropping at her rejection. She brushes past me, continuing in the direction of the house. I’m torn between following her like my heart begs of me and running for the rolling waves. The ocean seems like a safer choice. If I follow Lily, I can’t be held responsible for the things I want to do. A douse of deep water should deflate the hard-on in my shorts and restore my thoughts to reality. Lily Warren will never want me again.

6

You’re hot

[Lily]

I can’t seem to get away from him fast enough. He has no idea what he’s done to me. His tender fingers curling around my ear, tickling the side of my neck. His touch exploding everywhere across my skin. Thank goodness for the bright sunshine and the possibility of rosy cheeks from the heat to cover up the blush creeping over my face.

Scampering up the beach, I refuse to look back at him. I recall our conversation before he went out last night. Could I be any more awkward, giving him a texting code and a free pass to bring some skank back to the house? If I had to listen to Brut grunting and groaning with someone else in the next room, I’d die. Don’t wait up, he’d announced. Around ten, I gave up on what I was doing—waiting for him. I wanted to kick myself because I should have known better. Who am I kidding, though? Brut wouldn’t need to bring someone here. He probably picked up some chick at the local bar and went back to her place. How cliché. Yet why wouldn’t he? Better yet, who wouldn’t be attracted to him? Breathtaking to view, flirting like a master, and with steady employment to boot—he’s a trifecta for the win.

My feet can’t move fast enough over the sand as I replay each word of our recent exchange. I’m not certain I liked his tone when he asked me where I was this morning. An innocent walk to clear my mind after a restless night of sleep is none of his business. Still…

“I thought you left. Maybe reconsidered staying.” The comment startled me.

“Do you want me to leave?” I hate that I asked, sounding so desperate for him to say no. I don’t know why he’d want me to stay. I don’t know why I decided to stay other than convincing myself I deserved this vacation as much as he did and determining I could handle sharing the house. Still, there was an urgency in his voice. What did he think I’d been doing? I fought a smile by biting my lip. His eyes had followed the motion before his thumb pressed at my tender skin to release it.

“No, we’re good.”

So good, I thought as my eyes wandered Brut’s physique. The stacked-book abs. A smattering of white hair on his chest to match that on his head. Not a drop of ink on him. Bright orange board shorts with a blue floral design hung low on his hips. A darker trail of hair led lower, hinting at what lay beneath his dipped waistband. My eyes snapped up with the thought, but the smirk on his face let me know I’d been caught.

Yummy, my heart drooled, but I quickly mopped up the spittle. The beating organ has gotten me in trouble before in regards to this man, and I promised myself never again with Brut Paige. Been there, done that. Only I didn’t ever do him. Someone else did him before he got to me. My shoulders sag with the sudden memory, and I squint out at the rolling waves, the ebb and flow reminding me of my wavering emotions for this man.