Soaked (The Water's Edge #2) (2 page)

Looking at my watch and cursing, knowing there was nothing quick about a trip to the ER, not after fighting traffic through the city and back again, I sent Sadie a text, letting her know I’d be headed her way after I finished up with things here.

Of all days, why did this have to happen on our last night together for the next three weeks?

When we docked, I hauled a lame Aubrey into my arms, forced to carry her. The swelling had subsided some, but she swore she couldn’t handle putting any weight on it. Whatever. I just needed to get her dropped off at the ER. Then I could come back and pack up things on the boat while she got seen. Her dad could pick her up as far as I was concerned.

She rubbed against me, talking some shit about me being her hero. I laughed to keep from strangling her.

I needed to get back to Reynolds Island.

I needed to get back to Sadie.

Sadie

I TEETERED PRECARIOUSLY
on the edge of rage, trying not to let the shock push me off the cliff into the pain of his betrayal. I needed to hold on to the anger right now. It was the glue keeping me intact.

My mind whirred, manufacturing scenes of West romancing Aubrey, of West laughing at my naivety, of their wedding, their future kids, their picture-fucking-perfect life. The episodes played on the IMAX of my mind—the images too big, the volume too loud to fully process. I was immobile, held captive by the
what ifs.
The
never woulds.

I inhaled carefully, my motions delicate. Abrupt movement might shatter the fragile grip I had on my control. And if I lost that, I wasn’t sure which way I would tumble—fury or agony. I just knew it would be violent. And I couldn’t allow that. It meant she—Aubrey—would have won. That he was never mine.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I exhaled. It was all I could manage.

As my world shattered around me, everything blurred, as if trying to soften the blow. My breath caught, my chest fighting the most natural of instincts beneath the pain crushing it.

Flexing my hands against the wrought iron table, I searched blindly for stability, a way to anchor myself in this awful new reality. My palms slid until my fingers curled around the edge, squeezing until my knuckles turned white.

I was a lit fuse. I wasn’t sure if the detonation would be an implosion or an explosion.

But destruction was inevitable.

I licked my dry lips.

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

I concentrated on the expansion of my ribs. The deflation of my chest.

Rise.

Fall.

In.

Out.

I focused on my lungs. Because I couldn’t bear to think about my heart.

ON MY DRIVE HOME,
I got a text. From Aubrey.

Save your pride and walk away now. He’s gonna dump you tonight. He’s already tired of you and your trip is the perfect time for him to make a clean break. Hell, he didn’t even wait for you to leave. He’s been with me all day. Woman to woman, I thought I owed you a head’s up.

She’d attached a picture of West kneeling in front of her long, bare legs. He looked like he was about to take off her shoes for her. How fucking thoughtful of him.

“YOU WANT TO
go to Anchor now? I thought the plan was to meet the guys at the Wreck?” Rue leaned against my doorway, effortlessly sexy in a short skirt and loose tank.

I twisted my hips, checking my backside in the mirror. Panty lines weren’t going to be a problem because I wasn’t wearing any.

“Plans change. All the time. Without warning.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that mean?”

I faced forward again and smoothed my hands down my snug black dress, coasting them over the curve of my hips. With my tan and my wild blond curls, I looked sexy.

More important, I
felt
sexy. Too bad for West it was no longer for him. I didn’t know who the lucky man was yet, but somebody was going to be unwrapping me later.

After all, wasn’t that the quickest way to get over a guy?

I flicked my eyes to my best friend, willing her to understand without having to explain it all.

“We’re going to Anchor. And we’re gonna drink. And we’re gonna dance. And we’re gonna see where that leads.” It probably would’ve sounded more fun if my eyes weren’t dead and my voice wasn’t leaden.

Rue wrinkled her brow as she studied me. She was quiet for a long moment. “He fucked up?”

I jutted my chin out and clenched my jaw, dropping my head in a jerky nod.
I’m not gonna cry. He’s not worth it.

“I hear there’s a good DJ tonight. Should be a big crowd.”

My lips curved, more sneer than smile. “Fucking perfect. You ready?”

She didn’t budge from the doorway. “
I
am. Are you?” Her voice was soft, the concern peeking through in her tone.

“No.” I barked out a harsh laugh. “No. And I know this is a shitty way to deal with it. But it’s all I’ve got right now. Okay?”

Rue smiled sadly, her expression soft. “I hear you, babe. Let me tell you though, from experience, it’s probably not gonna work. It’s gonna be a distraction at best, a regret at the worst.”

I met her eyes, my gaze steady. “I’m okay with that.”

She sighed. “Let’s go break some hearts then.”

Too fucking late.

Too fucking late.

M
Y HIP THROBBED
where I’d fallen harder than I meant to against the table. I slid the empty bottle farther away from me. Beer was my drink of choice tonight because I planned to keep them coming nice and steady all night. That was number five. I think.

My phone chirped. Again. It’d been making noise for the last two hours. I peered down at it, tipsy enough to finally be curious what
he’d
have to say. The messages filled my screen and then some.

I’m back.

I can’t wait to see you.

Are you almost ready?

I’m here. Where are you?

Sadie, are you okay?

Why aren’t you answering?

There were more. His
concern
was evident.

Too bad.

He’d fucking sunk his own ship.

A giggle slipped out.
His own ship!
I covered my mouth with my hand, my eyes watering with tears. It wasn’t that funny. It really wasn’t.

Aubrey’s fake tits could be his flotation device.
I was sure he had lots of practice hanging on to them.

My laughter died abruptly.

I studied my own breasts where they peeked out of the black jersey of my dress. They looked great tonight, but there was at least a cup size of extra padding in my bra propping the girls up. Aubrey’s boudoir photoshoot came to mind. Hers were fake, but they were well done. She’d dropped some serious cash on those babies.

I cupped my chest, wondering if quantity was better than quality when it came to tit size.

My fingers squeezed experimentally. They were good breasts. Sensitive. Perky. Clad in my most expensive bra.
Somebody
tonight was going to appreciate them.

But not
him.

Resolved, I woke my phone up. Typed out a response and hit send before I could second guess myself.

I’ve got some things to take care of. You understand.

My screen immediately lit up with an incoming message, but I powered it off and left the text unread.

Tonight wasn’t about him.

It was about anybody
but
him.

I picked up my fresh bottle of beer and took a long pull. I’d been ordering them two at a time; I was efficient like that.

Rue put an arm around me, her lips wrapped around her own dark brown glass bottle. Releasing it with a pop, she leaned her head against me. With those heels, she would’ve been the same height as me if I was in flats, but I was rocking some serious shoes tonight too, so she only came to my chin.

I hugged her to my side. The soft press of her generous curves against me was all natural. Her girls were going free tonight and, depending how she moved and lifted her arms, she was showing off some major side boob.

Reaching over, I hefted one of her tits through her top. Heavy. Warm. Kind of smooshy. I bet guys liked that.

Or maybe guys—maybe
West
—preferred Aubrey’s artificial wonders?

“What’s that about?” Rue swatted my hand away.

I poked at my chest. “Do you think this is why?”

Sighing, she took her two hands and gave my tits a quick squeeze. “They’re boobs. They jiggle. They have nipples. Guys like nipples. It’s really not more complicated than that. The only thing they might like better is seeing two girls play with each other’s tits.”

She glanced around, and when I realized what she was doing, I followed suit.

We were attracting a bit of an audience. An all-male audience.

She turned to whisper in my ear, plastering herself fully against my side. “Come on, let’s dance and give these boys a show.”

Knowing how much she loved being the center of attention, and ready to stir up a little trouble myself, I held her hand as she led me onto the dance floor.

Don’t get me wrong, Rue was gorgeous, my bestie, and we lived together. I’d dance dirty with her all night long for the fun of it.

But it’d never go past that. I liked cock. So did she. Plain and simple.

We found a spot and faced each other, her hands on my waist and mine in the air. The bass was pulsing, the beat throbbing, and we found our groove, sliding sinuously against each other. In less than the space of two verses, we were surrounded by men presented with a dilemma—to stand back and watch or to approach and try to get a piece of the action.

The timid ones watched. Those weren’t the ones we were after anyway.

The bolder ones moved closer. Hands slipped over my hips. One confident man wedged himself between us, so we sandwiched him.

And I didn’t give a fuck about anything except dancing, getting lost in the moment, and the sensation of being
wanted.

Even if it was by strangers whose hands didn’t know how I liked to be stroked, or that the back of my knees were ticklish, or that—if he did it right—just massaging my feet could be erotic enough to make me wet. No, tonight I wasn’t picky.