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Chapter Twelve
Rhenn
I barely slept a wink.
Not even the tranquil rocking motion of my boat could calm my raging hormones. All I could think about was the way she melted against me, the feel of her lips against mine, her taste on my tongue. I tried – fuck, did I try – to push her out of my mind, but I just couldn’t do it. I had a taste, and now I want more.
More of her, sure, but more of all that other shit too. The touches, the lingering glances, the kisses, and the noises she makes when she surrenders in my arms. The things that felt a hell of a lot like a relationship. The things I swore I’d never want or need again.
It didn’t help my situation that I was forced to listen to my friend fuck his wife, albeit as quietly as they possibly could. I can’t even be mad at him because if I were in his situation, I’d be screwing my wife as much as possible too. Well, if I had a wife, that is. Which I don’t.
And won’t.
I tried everything. I got up and went upstairs, trying to get away from the low thump of the mattress hitting the wall. That didn’t help because all I thought about was how Marissa would look splayed out on my deck, her legs wrapped around my waist, as I drove my cock deep inside her. I even tried to make some tea shit that I found in the cabinet. It tasted like ass, even after I added a few splashes of tequila.
I couldn’t shower – they left the bathroom door to the main living area locked from the inside, only to access the bathroom from the master bedroom. I couldn’t jack off, which was what my wayward cock needed, because I had no easy way to clean it up. Not to mention the fact that my friends could come out of the bedroom for a just-had-sex snack and find me whacking off to images of the sexy bed and breakfast owner I left up on the beach last night.
I was in hell. I was hard, aching, and craving release like no one’s business.
I was craving Marissa.
As soon as the sun started to peek out, I changed into running clothes, jumped in the johnboat, and headed toward the shore. It was too early for breakfast (unfortunately), and even though I’d much rather fuck my way through this sexual frustration I’m drowning in, I opt for the second best option.
Running.
My shoes pound into the wet sand, the familiar burn in my legs and lungs settling in. I keep a brutal pace, much faster than I normally would, considering I’m running in sand. I run for a good thirty minutes down the shore before turning and heading back. My pace on the return is a little slower, mostly because I’ve finally found my rhythm. I try to push all thoughts of a certain blonde with alluring green eyes out of my mind, but it’s impossible.
My body craves her like the sun needs the sky.
That’s a problem, and unless I get it under control, she’ll know exactly how much I want her when she takes one look at me. It’s not like basketball shorts camouflage boners, ya know? She’ll take one look at me and run away screaming.
Though, I’m pretty sure she caught on to how she impacted my body last night. I could see it in the way her eyes flickered to my shorts.
Hell. This is what hell is like. A raging hard-on with no means of taking care of it. That’s probably what my headstone will read too. Here lies the sorry asshole who died because all of his blood was in one concentrated area for too long. Death by woody. Nick would love the shit out of that.
When I return to the stretch of beach that belongs to Marissa’s family, I head toward the johnboat. In desperate need for a shower and a bottle of water, I climb in, only to realize that my shower really isn’t an option right now, unless they unlocked the door within the last hour. Nick and Meghan are surely still sleeping, dead to the world from their marathon sex last night. Even though they’d deserve to get woken up after keeping me up half the night with their sexcapades, I don’t want to be the reason they’re up for no reason. Especially since she’s pregnant and probably needs the rest.
Dropping my shoulders, I opt to head to my truck. I can drive into town and purchase some water at the gas station, but before I even make it two steps, I realize I don’t have my keys. They’re on the boat in my pants from last night.
Fuck.
Out of options, I make my way up the path that leads to the bed and breakfast. I know the code to get into the house, so it looks like I’ll be working for a bit until it’s time for breakfast. Checking my watch, I see I have about an hour before I’m supposed to be at Marissa’s place. Not a lot of time to get anything really done, but maybe it’ll help calm my racing heart and raging boner.
As I step through the clearing and into the yard, I notice a light on in the little cottage out back. Marissa’s already up. When the front of her place comes into view, I notice the front door is open, her cheerful curtains all fluttering in the breeze. There’s also music playing, something new and definitely pop-ish filtering through the yard.
Instead of heading to the house, I find myself stepping onto her porch and knocking. I can see her there, standing at the counter, a surprised look on her face as she glances up and finds me. “I know I’m early,” I start, not really knowing what else to say. I’m sweaty and probably a little stinky from my run, and the boner I had just finally willed into submission is starting to come back.
“Come in,” she says quickly, wiping her hands on the front of the apron she’s wearing.
An apron. I’ve never found one so fucking sexy, yet here I am, staring at her as if she’s wearing some sexy negligee and beckoning me to come closer.
“Sorry to just show up like this. I was going to head into the house and maybe do a little work, but then I saw your light on,” I reply, running my hand through my sweaty hair as nerves flutter in my stomach. Nerves. I’m fucking nervous.
“It’s fine. I’m just cutting the lemons to juice.”
I find myself walking over to where she stands, invading her personal space a bit too much for a man who hasn’t showered today, and lean against the counter to watch her work her magic. “Can I help with something?”
Marissa faces me and wrinkles her nose. “This might not be appropriate to ask before breakfast, but why are you all sweaty and gross?”
