Isn't She Lovely (15 page)

“Well, you’re just strange around each other,” Andrea says. “I mean, on one hand, you’re totally comfortable with each other. Like, you’ll answer a question before she asks it, or you help yourself to her potato chips and she barely notices.”

“And on the other hand …?”

“On the other hand,” she says, grabbing a beer for herself, “you guys completely
stink
of
sexual tension. She leaped a mile when you brushed a bug off her arm. And every time you look at her, I think you’re going to set her on fire. The whole thing seems very unconsummated for a one-month relationship.”

Andrea’s boyfriend rolls over onto his stomach from where he’s been lounging on the back of the boat, half listening to our conversation. “Lay off him, Andi. Maybe Stephanie doesn’t put out on the first date like some girls we know.”

Andrea reaches back and tries to roll him into the lake. “I did
not
put out on the first date, Brian Barlow.”

Brian tips his sunglasses down so he can meet my eyes before mouthing, “She totally did.”

This earns him another slap on the head. Brian and Andrea met in college, and she brought him out last summer to hang with her family, and again this summer, so I’m guessing they must be pretty serious. I’m glad. He’s a good guy.

“So what’s the story, Eth?” Andrea asks, turning back to me.

“No story,” I say, keeping my voice light. “I mean, we’ve been taking it kind of slow, but we’re not totally ignorant of each other, if you know what I mean.”

“Translation: they’ve been doing everything but the thing that can actually make babies,” Brian supplies.

Andrea studies me. “Is it true?”

I stand up and stretch. “Christ, what’s with the interest in my sex life?”

She shrugs. “Just happy you have one is all. Thought maybe you couldn’t get it up after ending things with Princess Olivia.”

I grunt. “I can get it up.”

“Good,” Andrea says, digging around in her bag for more sunscreen. “I like Stephanie. She’s normal. And pretty.”

My eyes go to the bow of the boat, where Stephanie’s been sunning herself for the past thirty minutes, blissfully unaware of the inquisition I’m getting back here.

“Yeah. She’s pretty,” I say, my eyes taking in the absolute fucking miracle that is Stephanie Kendrick in a bikini. I was a little nervous when she insisted on going swimsuit shopping alone. In my experience, a guy’s opinion is always a good thing when it comes to clothing consisting of string. But she did well. The swimsuit is a tiny white net concoction—what did she call it? Crochet?—and it does really amazing things for her even more amazing rack.

She turns around then to see where I am, giving me a shy little smile when she realizes I’m watching her. I can’t see her eyes through her big sunglasses, but I know she’s holding my gaze on purpose. Giving Andrea and Brian a show.

“I’ll be up front,” I say, grabbing a beer for Stephanie and heading her way.

“Uh-huh,” Andrea says. I feel her eyes on my back, and I can’t tell if I’ve fooled her or not. I’m thinking not, but that could just be my own paranoia. Because Andrea’s right about one thing: Stephanie and I are not acting like a couple who’ve gotten used to each other’s physical presence yet.

Time to fix that.

Stephanie’s lying down again by the time I get to her, and I let my eyes linger on her tiny waist, perfect hips, and, well … those breasts.

I tell myself that I’m staring because Andrea’s probably watching, but the truth is, I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. How the hell I’m supposed to sit by her and not peel that bikini off is beyond me, but here goes nothing.

“I think Andrea’s on to us,” I say, settling beside her on the oversized towel.

She flings an arm over her face to shield her eyes and turns her head toward me. “What do you mean, she’s on to us?”

I set our beers on top of the book she was reading earlier and stretch my legs out beside her, noting that mine extend several inches beyond hers. I always forget how short she is.

“Says we’re too comfortable around each other and also too on edge.”

“What does
that
mean?” she asks.

I shrug, although I kind of know
exactly
what Andrea means, and I suspect Stephanie does too. Being roommates has taught us how to be relaxed with each other. But then there’s something else simmering there. Something that is absolutely
not
relaxed. And it’s been growing.

“She says it’s clear we haven’t consummated.”

She jolts a little, pushing herself up on her elbows. “
Consummated?
”

“Well, I don’t think she necessarily means … you know,” I say, making a juvenile rutting gesture with the index finger of one hand and the O formed by my thumb and index finger on the other hand.

She bats my hands away. “Did you tell her we’d only been together a month? I mean, is it weird if
that
hasn’t happened by now?”

I tilt my head a little, thrown off by the genuine curiosity in her voice.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” I say. “I’ve only had one serious relationship in my life, so not a lot to go on.” Not exactly the manliest of confessions, but there it is.

She looks away. “Did you wait longer than a month? With Olivia?”

“Well, I was fifteen when we started dating. If it was up to me, I don’t know that I could have waited a week. But she was kind of a good girl. So yeah, we waited longer than a month.”

Stephanie turns to look at me, clearly expecting me to elaborate on the details.

“No way,” I say, shaking my head. “Males are born with a protective instinct to
never
tell current mates about past mates.”

“You learn that from Animal Planet?”

“Reality TV,” I reply.

She lies back down, and I stretch out beside her. We’re silent for a few minutes.

“So what do we do?” she asks. “About Andrea, I mean.”

I roll to my side, putting my weight on one elbow and resting my head on my hand as I look down at her. “Well, one thing’s for sure. We’re going to have to get familiar with each other’s touch.”

“Define familiar.”

“You’re jumpy whenever I touch you.” To prove my point, I reach out an index finger and trace it from her wrist to her elbow.

She hisses as her arm jerks in response.

“See?” I ask softly. “We may not be expected to have sealed the deal in a month, but we sure as hell have to have
touched
.”

This time I place my entire palm on her arm, sliding up until I’m cupping her bicep. As far as touches go, it shouldn’t be personal. We’re not dealing with any sexy parts here. But it
feels
fucking sexy, especially since it puts the backs of my fingers just inches away from the side of her breast.

I take a deep breath.
Don’t get lost in the game, Price
.

“Well, this is nice,” she says sarcastically. “I’m sure your being comfortable with the flab on my upper arm will convince everyone that we’re practically
consummating
.”

I laugh despite the fact that I seem to have a raging boner from her arm “flab.”

“You’re a smart-ass,” I say.

She grins up at me, and the gesture is too easy, too sassy. And suddenly I know exactly what Andrea means.

Stephanie Kendrick doesn’t see me as a guy.

She just sees me as her film partner. Hell, she probably sees me as her
landlord
.

That won’t work.

I roll toward her, plucking the sunglasses off her face so I can see her eyes. She lets out an irritated huff and pulls my glasses off as well, tossing them aside so that we’re staring into each other’s eyes.

“You’re right,” I say huskily. “Me cupping your bicep won’t convince anyone. But I know what will.”

Her blue eyes turn dark, and I hope it’s with arousal because being this close to her almost naked body is
killing
me.

“If I know Andrea, she’s watching us right now,” I say gently, moving my hand slowly until I’m brushing a piece of hair off her forehead. “Think we can convince her that we’re at least close to
consummating
?”

“Ethan—”

My hand moves to her mouth, and I let the pad of my thumb catch on her bottom lip as those blue eyes go completely smoky.

“It’ll be just like we practiced that night at David’s place,” I say before lowering my mouth to hers.

Except, damn it, it’s
nothing
like that first kiss in her ex-boyfriend’s apartment. That had been an experiment. A test to see if two complete opposites could stomach a harmless little kiss. This time we know each other, and it’s not harmless.

And even though it’s still an experiment, still part of the game, it’s
better
somehow. And it was pretty damn great before.

Stephanie lets out a breathy little sigh before her little tongue comes out to lick my bottom lip, and suddenly it’s impossible to remember that this isn’t real or that Andrea is watching.

I part her lips with my own, my free hand cupping around the back of her neck and holding her head still while I explore her lips, her teeth, her tongue.

She opens her mouth wide, and I take what she offers, tilting my head and deepening the kiss until we’re breathing in the same air. Breathing in each other.

She starts to roll toward me at the same time I lean toward her, and now I’m covering her, feeling her hard nipples against my bare chest through the thin fabric of her bikini top. Her skin’s so warm, and I don’t know if it’s from the sun or because of me, and I hope to God it’s the latter, because I don’t give a shit who’s watching—I’m
dying
for this girl.

I want to touch her everywhere, but I don’t trust myself, so I satisfy my fingers’ need to feel her by putting my hands on either side of her waist, letting them idly stroke along her rib cage, moving from bikini top to bikini bottom, but always reversing direction when my fingers touch fabric, never letting myself go over the fabric. And certainly not
under
. That would be the end of me.

Stephanie’s arms are around my neck, keeping my mouth glued to hers, and I have absolutely no objections. I feel her shift before my brain registers her movement, and I almost groan as I realize she’s spread her legs slightly, allowing me to rest in the cradle of her thighs. There’s no possible chance of hiding my erection now, and from the way she tilts her hips up to mine, I don’t think she minds.

“Yo! Ethan!”

I hear the voice vaguely, but since it’s not Stephanie’s, I don’t care, and my arm finds its
way around the small of her back as I jerk her closer because I can’t get close enough.

“Ethan!”

This time I register Stephanie’s palms pushing against my shoulders, and I pull back slightly, ready to kill whoever’s interrupting the hottest fucking kiss of my life.

My eyes find Stephanie’s, and she looks as completely lost as I feel.

“What are you kids trying to do, outburn the sun?”

I tear my gaze away from Stephanie, looking up to see Andrea standing on the driver’s seat, grinning down at us.

“Really, Andi?” I ask in irritation.

And then I remember that this whole thing is for her benefit in the first place, and I shake my head to clear it.

“Brian and I are starving,” she says. “Let’s head back to the house for something to eat.”

I want to tell her to piss off, but Stephanie’s squirming under me, and not in the aroused way of before, but in a panicked little get-off-me squirm, and I drop my head briefly in resignation before rolling off her. I move quickly into a sitting position, resting my forearms over my knees as I face away from Andrea. I pretend I’m taking in the setting sun, but really I need a second for the lower half of my body to be fit for company.

Stephanie is fixing the swimsuit that’s become twisted in our kiss, and she ignores me completely as she climbs to her feet and makes her way back toward Andrea. She’s chattering animatedly about what we should have for dinner, and her voice doesn’t have even a trace of the sexual frustration that has me feeling like punching something.

I hear the start of the motor, and I reluctantly get up, being careful to keep Stephanie’s towel in front of my crotch as I rejoin the rest of the group.

Brian and Andrea don’t say a word about the fact that Stephanie and I were about two minutes away from screwing on their boat, and I can only hope that it’s because they’re convinced we’re just like any other new-ish couple who can’t keep their hands off each other.

Except Stephanie and I aren’t a couple. Not really.

And yet I have absolutely no interest in keeping my hands off her.

I drop into one of the free seats in the back of the boat as the realization hits me like a ton of bricks: I’m totally hot for Stephanie Kendrick.

As though sensing my thoughts, she pivots in the chair in front of me to face me. Her sunglasses are back on, and I’m annoyed that I can’t see her eyes. To see if that stormy heat is still there.

She gives me a little smile before reaching out to give my knee a pat. The gesture is as chaste as it gets.

“I think we did it,” she says quietly. Triumphantly.

My mind goes blank for a second. Did what?

“They totally bought it,” she continues as she pulls her long hair into a messy knot. “Plus this is a great potential scene for the screenplay.”

She might as well have tossed cold water on my balls. Apparently I’m the only one who wants to finish what we started.

But I can’t be mad at her for keeping her head on straight. I was the one who messed up. I broke the cardinal rule in this little game we’re playing: I went and forgot that it
is
a game.

A mistake I have no intention of repeating.

Chapter Thirteen

Stephanie

Ethan is grumpy.

And I tell him so as he unlocks the door to our apartment after a long weekend of boating, fake flirting, and drinking a little too much local wine from some of the fabulous Finger Lakes wineries.

Ethan drops the cooler and his duffel bag in the entryway and turns to give me a look.