Sail (Wake #2) (25 page)

“Blake, may I use your bathroom?” Audrey asked.

I mumbled, “Sure,” and pointed down the hall. “It’s right down there.”

I wanted to rip up the card, but first I wanted Casey to read it. If it were me, I’d want to see. I felt him come up behind me and gently kiss the side of my neck, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“They’re from Grant,” he said already knowing. He didn’t sound jealous or suspicious. He sounded like he wasn’t surprised at all.

“Yeah, read the card.” I held it up so he could read it over my shoulder.

“How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know. I’m annoyed, I guess. I feel bad for feeling like that, but that’s what I’m working with.” I relaxed as he started rocking us unthinkingly back and forth. It was soothing.

“The dude is oblivious. The
definition
of oblivious.” Then he turned me around in his arms. I looped mine around him and just held on for a minute. We continued to almost, but not quite, slow dance in front of flowers from the guy who wouldn’t get a clue. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I said back into his shirt, which smelled of him and Southwest Airlines.

“They’re not bad flowers. Roses though? For Valentine’s Day?” Casey judged.

“I told you. He’s traditional.”

He hummed as he thought, and squinted before saying, “I would have got you a tomato and a lettuce plant. And a pig.”

“Awww. See? That’s romantic.”
A BLT-entine.

“But I didn’t get you those things.”

“So what? It’s the thought that counts. And I like the
thought
of your delicious Valentine better than
real
roses.”

Neither of us said anything for a minute or two. I enjoyed that finally, Casey was standing in the same place that my mail came. It was the first time the apartment felt like my home.

“Oh. My. God. He’s so damn cute,” I squealed, looking at the pictures Audrey had taken of Foster. Some were over Christmas and others were at Micah and Cory’s wedding. She was really talented. Her artful eyes looked at things differently than I would have. She’d edited the photos herself and they were amazing, but the ones she’d taken of Foster were especially priceless. “That face is perfect.”

“He gets that from me,” Casey said, as he stood at my sink washing dishes from dinner. He insisted he do them, since I cooked.

I just liked the way he looked in my kitchen.

Then he looked up, and before he could wink, I beat him to it. He chuckled and said, “I have the same face as his slightly-less-good-looking-than-me father. The kid has good genes.”

Audrey and I both rolled our eyes and scrolled on through picture after picture. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I can have them printed,” I said.

She offered to print my favorite picture of our godson, lying on a blanket with a look that really did remind me of Casey. One eyebrow cocked up like he knew all the secrets to the world.

“No, I want to. We’ll call it a house warming gift,” she told me and beamed proudly. My little home could definitely use some warming. “I’m getting a lot printed, I know a guy at school who can process them for us. Really.”

She was so sweet. Her thick and curly, dirty-blonde hair was tied up in a huge wad atop her head. She had Casey’s style. Loose, but trendy. Casual, but she looked like she could walk a runway at any moment. That family did have great genes.

“Okay, thanks.”

“Which one did she pick?” Casey asked. He plopped down next to me at the small, bistro-style table in my dining room.

“One of the same ones you did,” she answered, and then showed him the one I’d chosen. “I like that one, too.”

We talked about the things she was doing in her classes and we had a genuinely great time. It was incredible feeling included—even in a small way—into their family. It made me so hopeful and eager for the future.

The BLT gift would have been nice, but having Casey and Audrey in my apartment, just hanging out, was a fantastic consolation.

“Okay, you two have fun. I’m going to head out. I’m doing a campus tour tomorrow,” Audrey told us as she put her jacket on and wrapped her pretty silk scarf around her neck. “I don’t need to look tired when I’m walking prospective students and their parents around campus.”

Casey hugged his little sister tightly. “Be careful. Drive safe,” he instructed. “Text me when you get back to your room.”

“Yes, Dad,” she mocked as she went out the door.

“Bye, Audrey,” I said and she waved. She had one of the most truly perfect smiles.

We closed the door after she pulled away.

“Now, you. Get the fuck over here…,” Casey stalked toward me, “…with your wink-stealing ass. That’s my move.” He looked menacing, and fully capable of delivering a wicked punishment for my thievery.

“You don’t scare me,” I said as I walked backward, retreating through my apartment. He stopped all of a sudden, went back to the front door, locked it and then like a flash he was after me.

“Then why are you running from me?”

“Stop, Casey,” I said as I circled my bed.

He paused inside my bedroom, not far from the door, and held up a finger for me to wait a minute. He looked all around, like my bedroom was a fascinating museum exhibit. There wasn’t much to see. A closet with shoes all over the place. In retrospect, I could have spent some time in there straightening it up, since I was having bedroom company. Nevertheless, it was my closet and it wasn’t
that
bad.

“You have a lot of shoes.”

“Yep. And I don’t wear half of them. I just put them on for a second and then settle for one of the three pairs that are already broken in.” I lay over my bed, but kept my feet on the floor as I allowed him to waltz through my stuff.

Then he saw the picture of us, from Chicago on the Fourth of July, which I’d printed from my phone and framed. I did that the first week I lived there.

“Honeybee, you have a picture of me beside your bed?” he inquired, bending down to look at it on the nightstand. Then, in a much unexpected move, he opened my nightstand drawer. The one with my toy. My special talking on the phone with naughty, dirty, flirty Casey toy. I’d bought that the first week, too.

“You keep a picture of me above your vibrator like a sexual tombstone.” He chuckled. “I approve.”

I was mortified for about ten seconds. Then he turned the little silver toy on. I can’t deny it, I was turned on, too.

Friday, February 12, 2010

MY LIST OF TURN-ONS, simplified. She. Had. A. Vibrator.

Happy Valentine’s Day to me.

Yes, I had every intention of reinforcing the no one-night stand guy behavior from our trip—at least on the first night—but, fuck if I didn’t just find her vibrator.

I have no clue why I looked in the drawer. Okay. I had a clue. Every guy fantasizes about his girl pleasuring herself. Every guy. All of them. That’s why I looked. It was predetermined in my chromosomes to find out if my fantasies were true.

Sure,
I
could have used it on her—if she was okay with that. But I’m persuasive as hell, when I need to be. I’m a goddamned salesman. I could talk her into it and she’d believe it was her idea—if it came to that. Just the thought of witnessing that precious sight,
without my participation,
there was a good chance I would embarrass myself. If she used it in front of me, I would come in my pants.

So, even though the rehabilitated one-night stand guy knew better, he still couldn’t do anything about the circumstances. Things like that never happened. It was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.

She had to be made aware of the situation.

“Blake, I think we need to have a talk,” I said and swallowed the lump in my throat. The sex gods were smiling at me. It was a gift from above. Every man’s dream and it had just come true for me.

“About my toy?” She looked slightly embarrassed, but I knew she was excited. She wore the proof of her ramped-up libido on her face. Pink-nose tattletale. God, I loved that girl. “We don’t have to talk about it. I know what it does,” she challenged.

Thank you, sex toy gods.

“Can you show me?” I tried to keep a serious face, but I was thrilled. I cleared my throat; it was getting hot in her room.

Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t say no. She didn’t say no. No noes were said. There was a chance. I needed to make my intentions clear, before it went any further.

“Blake, I didn’t plan to come here tonight and fuck your brains out like a sex-starved whore-monger. I didn’t. I was going to be good, show some restraint.” As she dutifully listened, she sucked her lips in and bit her teeth down around them to hide her smile, stopping herself from laughing at me. I continued anyway. “But.
But!
This is a game changer.”

I brought the vibrator to the top of the bed, and then mirrored her stance. My feet on the floor, I lay down and met her in the middle.

I accidentally turned it on.

“Whoa, fella. Hold up.” The damn thing was more eager than I was. It had a hair trigger. I pressed a button to turn it off, but it just got stronger.

Blake possessively took it from me and with instructional eyes demonstrated how to
off
the little devil. Then a silent, laughter-deprived tear rolled down her cheek as she handed it back.

“Thank you. As I was saying, I didn’t come over here tonight with the intention of knocking the bottom out of your pretty little ass and blowing your mind with
this
little thing—and thanks for keeping him a reasonably competitive size, by the way. But I just can’t see any way around it.”

“You didn’t want to knock the bottom out of
all
this before?” Her voice shook as she tried to rein in her composure. It filled my heart seeing her light up with glee. Who knew sex toys could bring so much pleasure? On second thought, that bears no need for answering.

“That’s not exactly what I said. I just meant it wasn’t my intention.”

“And now?”

“Well, hell. Do I have a choice? You’re looking so girl-next-door-sexy and you have a picture of us by your bed, that—and I’m only assuming—you look at when you…” I waggled my eyebrows. She could fill in the blanks.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? Good answer. I like a little mystery.” I stole my wink move back, and gave it to her. She leaned in and kissed me, tasting like the chocolate ice cream we had after dinner.

“Now, knowing what you do, about my pure intentions, can I please see what you can do with this thing?”

“I don’t know.” She blushed. “I can’t just do it. You know? Can you just jack off?”

“Yes,” I deadpanned.

“Oh.” She put her head down on the bed, shaking it with embarrassment. Then she looked up at me with mischief swimming in her deep brown eyes.

“You first then,” she dared.

This girl had game. Well played, honeybee. Well played.

She crawled up on the mattress, her ass in the air and turned around laying perpendicular to me, the way one should lay on a bed. She didn’t say anything, but her body told me everything I wanted to know. She was breathing heavier, her back against the fluffy tan comforter. The look on her face telling me she’d do any damn thing I wanted.

If I had to choose, it was one of my favorite looks. Her lips were red from biting at them to stave off a laugh, full and totally kissable. A blush on her cheeks. Her dark brown eyes, dreamy and heavy-lidded. It was sensational and right up there with my other favorites. Her sleepy, satisfied, after climax face. One I planned on seeing a few times that weekend. The way she looked when she came. Totally a contender for favorite. Right next to the way she looked when I told her I loved her and the way she looked when she said it back.