Sail (Wake #2) (12 page)

I called the number I’d saved in my phone for his extension. He picked up and confirmed that, so far, all the things I’d asked for wouldn’t be an issue. I only needed to let him know when I wanted them.

Changing and talking to Ricky were good distractions to keep my mind and body from wandering back into the bathroom, where I knew my favorite pussy was wet under steamy water and the most amazing pair of tits were probably soapy and slick with…okay, I wasn’t completely distracted.

I began unpacking. Staying in a room longer than a weekend merited taking your shit out of a bag and putting it away. That and it just felt good to settle in somewhere.

It wasn’t long before Blake came out. In our rush, she hadn’t grabbed anything to wear after the great shower-fucking episode of 2010 that didn’t happen.
Yet.

With a big white hotel towel wrapped around her creamy white body, she padded over to her suitcase. I wondered how it was that women’s towels always stayed on. Did they know some towel trick? Because every time I did it, either my dick hung out the front or the bastard would fall off as soon as I took one step.

But she sauntered over to her things, like she wouldn’t even consider it falling off. I learned at that moment I didn’t harbor the power of telekinesis. The damn thing held its own despite my brain’s vulgar and explicit damnedest to wish the thing off.

She looked fresh and clean, but she still wore something like disappointment on her face. I lay across the bed and propped my head on my arm to talk to her, while she chose what to wear after opening her largest bag.

“Hey, why the face?” I asked, knowing she didn’t understand what had happened in the bathroom and why I didn’t take advantage of the moment like I had so many, many, many times before. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s nothing. I just thought, we’d…” She stopped there, embarrassment claiming her features. Scarlet bloomed under her cheeks. It was different than the turned-on version of her blush. I bet she had tens of blushes yet all this time I’d only concentrated on one. There were so many ways I hadn’t been someone who was deserving of leaving a life and a home for.

That all had changed. If she was doing better, then I wanted to, too.

“Go ahead. Tell me,” I told her. I was paying attention. She’d said she liked when I told her what to do. I understood; it took so much pressure off knowing what the other wanted.

She pulled a few dresses from her suitcase and laid them on the bed near me. She didn’t make eye contact. I think that made it easier for her to spill her thoughts. Still, I wanted her to know what she was doing and acknowledge she was doing it because I’d said so.

I got something out of it too. After all the times we’d fought, all the times that either she or I had left, if I could have just
told
her what I wanted her to do… Well, I wasn’t completely sure, but our story might have worked out better than the fucked-up way we’d done it.

She took a deep breath as she gathered her words. “I thought we were about to take a shower
together.
” “Together” rolled off her tongue as if spoken in a delicate language. She spoke that, but I spoke me. Good thing for her, I knew both of our languages. Translated, Blake’s “together” meant “fuck the marble off the walls” in Casey. I would have loved making her scream my name in there. I bet the acoustics were great. We’d be doing a sound check before we left for home.

“I wanted to, but I’m mixing things up,” I admitted. I wanted her to want me like she did and I didn’t want her to doubt I wanted her back. It was a fine line. Still, I wasn’t about to jump on her the second we were alone again. I was going to take my time, because there wasn’t a rush. Not anymore.

As much as my balls throbbed, it gave me pleasure making her squirm a little.

That’s right, honeybee. Dangle on my hook.

I needed to make sure she knew where my head was though. I didn’t want her dwelling on anything else except how much of a good time she was having.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

I stared up at the ceiling. When I finally had the words, the way I needed them, I spoke to a patiently waiting woman with curious brown eyes.

“Aside from how bad I want to be buried inside of you,” I said, and made eye contact while I paused to punctuate what I’d said. I continued when she smiled, “I don’t want you to think that’s
all
I want from this trip.”

She crooked a leg and sat on the bed by my head.

“What else do you want from this trip?”

“I want lots of things.” How much did I want to give away? “I want you to relax and know that you’re here because I wanted to spend
time
with you.”

She grinned, but tried to hide it. “Spend
time
with me? Okay.”

“Yes. I’m serious. I want to hang out. Act like we’re just a couple on vacation. I want us to unwind and chill-the-fuck-out for a few days.
If
we have some great sex along the way, then that’s a bonus. A
huge, awesome
bonus.
”

She nodded, getting where I was going. I wondered if she knew what I meant. If I only knew what she was thinking?

“I mean, don’t you feel like we’ve been pulled and stretched so thin over the last few years? I’m ready for some of that pressure to slip away for a minute, even if things are waiting for us when we get back.”

Blake ran an open hand over my chest and her fingers rubbed back and forth over my tattoo.

She said, “I know exactly what you mean.”

I sat up on my elbows, bringing our faces closer together. “Are you sure? I don’t want you thinking anything negative. Got that?”

Her eyes said she did. She appeared relieved, like she’d wanted someone to say that or give her the chance to relax for a few days.

“Got it,” she confirmed and then she leaned in and kissed me. “We’re taking baby steps. I like it.”

I was going to rock her world with this new and improved Casey and then I was going to rock her world with my tongue, my fingers, and my cock.

Baby steps.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

BABY STEPS.

For us, the concept was almost comical. We’d either barreled head first, or taken our sweet-ass time. The thought of us taking our time and being cautious was kind of funny. I wasn’t exactly sure what he’d meant, but he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. And honestly, if he wanted to put the brakes on things, all it did was make me want him more. Who knew that was even possible?

It wasn’t only his body I sought, it was his company. I wanted both, but sadly, time hadn’t always been on our side. And when we were against the wall, time wise—well frankly, I was usually against a wall with him inside me. Our chemistry always monopolized our minutes. Here, we didn’t have to be desperate. Amongst everything else at the incredibly lavish hotel, we had the beautiful new luxury of time.

Also, this new and improved Casey was showing me he was taking this seriously. Taking steps in our relationship with care, to protect it. Hell if that didn’t turn me on, too.

He’d chosen the dress I wore. “I like this one,” he said from the bed as I put lotion on in front of him. If he was trying restraint on for size, then I was going to test it. He could tell me to do anything and I’d do it. It was a paradox: my need for independence and my desire to hand pieces of it over to him. It had almost always been like that; he just never took advantage of my instinctual surrender to him.

My mind.

My body.

My heart.

They were all merely puppets waiting for their turn to be played with by him. I’d never handed more than some of my body and mind over to Grant. Mainly because he didn’t understand me. He didn’t know where to find the rest and I never had a soul thirsty need to show him. With Casey, he looked for every part of me. I trusted him with all three.

We walked through the restaurant, which was the size of a small ballroom. It was incredible how tall the ceilings were in the Bella Flechazo. Music played quietly, a guitarist and a pianist. The chatter of cheerful conversations soaked into my ears as we walked to a table that was close to the small dance floor.

I’d always loved dancing with him.

The first night. The night in Georgia. The little we danced on the pier in Chicago one hot summer night so long ago. All of those times that once seemed not so long ago, now seemed like eons past.

“Hermosa jovencita,” the maître d’ said politely to me as he pulled out my chair. Then he tipped his head to Casey and said, “Señor.” As soon as I began to sit, so did my date. He had some manners, that guy.

Then I thought about it and realized that this might actually be our first real date. Like a
real
date. My heart almost climbed up my neck and out of my mouth to do cartwheels at the thought. But after a moment, I decided not. We’d had many dates and sweeping them under the rug would be like erasing all the good times too.

It didn’t matter. After everything, maybe it was all going to be okay.

The host left us, but it was only a moment until a server came to get our orders. “Nos gustaría dos pintas de cerveza y dos tragos de tequila. Cerveza local, por favor,” Casey said slowly. I didn’t know everything he was telling the woman, but I could have listened to it all night.

Cerveza. Beer. I knew that. And tequila was easy enough, but had he always known Spanish?
Who was this guy?

The woman who took his order left to get—what I was guessing were—our drinks.

I leaned in to ask conspiratorially, “Do you know Spanish?” I couldn’t help the small laugh that fell out after I asked.

He smiled and said, “No. Not really. I just memorized a few things that I thought we might need.” Then he winked at me and took a sip of his water. “I said I’d take care of you.”

I sat back, corrected. Shocked and a lot turned on. That wink might soon be the death of me.

I was still revved up from the plane, the almost shower, and then hearing him speak Spanish and ordering for me? I knew
that
Casey, but it was just so different having the man I craved so much in the bedroom act that way while sitting across from me at the table.

“What else did you learn,
Señor
Moore?” I teased. Laughing came easily. My bones poured themselves into the chair and with my legs crossed tightly I relished looking at a miracle. How could he still want me? How could I be that lucky?

His laughs came easily, too. He pointed a serious finger at me. “It’s no joke, Blake. We don’t speak the language. How did you figure we’d get along?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it. People do it all the time.”

“Well, I’d just much rather know how to say a few things so I know what we’re getting.”

“Okay, tell me what you know and I want to guess what you’re saying.”

Our drinks arrived. A draught and a shot placed before each of us. The server also came armed with a beautiful crystal dish with what looked like candied limes. Then the woman left.

Casey considered the limes and said, in sexy Spanish, with a gleam in his eye, “
Lame.
Bebe.
Chupa.
”

It was a terrible game. How was I supposed to know what he was saying? “Okay, maybe this wasn’t a great idea. I have no clue,” I admitted.

“I said lick. Drink. Suck.” He was ripe with mischief.

“Ohhh,” I breathed and the temperature in the restaurant went up ten degrees.

“Shall we?”

I reached for a piece of lime and his hand slid over mine, giving it a quick, tight squeeze. I caught his eye and saw warmth, fun, adventure, and something so Casey that I’d never been able to put my finger on. Blue-green eyes sparkled brighter than the beautiful glass chandelier in the lobby.

I brought the lime to my lips but waited for his cue.

“
Lame,
” he said and we both licked at our limes. It was a lot of sensations to handle at once. First, watching his masterful tongue sweep over the fruit.
Lucky lime.
Then, the taste of sour, salty, and sweet took over my mouth. I mimicked what he did next, lifting the shot glass to my lips.

“
Bebe,
” he said with a quirked eyebrow and we downed the shots.