Summer Star (The Blue Phoenix Series Book 1.5) (6 page)

Sky rests against the sink, facing me and I don't miss how her hands grip the metal. “Good.”

“Just so you know, so you can feel safe.”

The constant seesaw continues: I want her; I don't want her. Is there any point trying to stay away if she wants this too? How much does she want this?

I approach Sky and inhale the summer scent of the ice cream from earlier, of strawberries; her sweetness close enough to taste. My mouth hovers close to Sky's face, my lips near enough for her to respond if she wants to. Sky’s chest rises and falls rapidly, the eyes looking into mine clearly screaming 'kiss me'.

Go on, Sky, show you're the same as the rest of them. Then I can fuck you on the kitchen counter. Repeatedly.
“But if you change your mind, let me know.” I choose my softest voice, loaded with the desire matching hers, urging her on.

Wresting back self-control, I move my lips away and wait for her to follow through, to push her mouth onto mine, wrap herself around me and let go to the humming sexual need surrounding us.

Instead, Sky composes herself and sidesteps me. “Okay, so I'll stay if you cook.”

My stunned reaction switches to amusement, and I laugh. At her, at myself, at my ego. “So, pizza again?”

I doubt she remembers her words from the drunken conversation, at how I wouldn’t know how to deal with a woman like her, and each passing hour confirms this.

Sky, you are an infuriating, goddamn sexy chick and I bloody want you twice as much as I don’t.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The grey clouds hovering over my brightening world this morning shouldn't be a surprise but they piss me off. Yesterday the sun shone, today it's fucking cold.

Sky's asleep in the spare room, on the same bunk bed I slept on all those years ago. Although she agreed to stay after our conversation, Sky didn't come out of the room for the rest of the evening. Unsure if I’d upset her, I kept away. Okay, so I made a stupid comment about her liking being on top when she climbed on the top bunk, and maybe I hit a raw nerve mentioning she’s here because of a broken heart. What if she’d prefer to be alone and all she wants is to share a place we double-booked?

Last night, I bought the pizza as promised. Then waited. Ate the pizza. Waited. Went for a walk on the beach and sat on the sand dunes, sifting sand through my fingers, until the evening grew too dark and cold. Went back to the house. Waited. No Sky. Eventually I gave up, pissed off by her lack of attention.

What isn’t helping is I dreamt about her naked in my bed last night.

Today, the sun struggles to keep in front of the dark clouds; I should get out of the house before it rains. The temperature is probably okay to ordinary people, to me it's fucking freezing. I normally swim in the Pacific ocean; Cornwall's dull sea isn't as inviting.

Fighting annoyance, I head to the shore and let the cold water lap over my toes. Nearby, the squeals of the kids from the same family as yesterday carry across the breeze. A brother and sister play, jumping over the foaming waves and pushing each other over. I'm an only child. I never got to do this. Sometimes I'd make friends with other children on holiday here; but I wasn't the most confident child, so I stuck to solitary sandcastle making and rock pool netting.

Fuck it, if little kids can swim, I can stop behaving like the weather chose to piss me off and make the most of my freedom. Taking a deep breath, I run forward and plunge into a cresting wave. The temperature shocks my body to life and Dad's words from past summers ring in my ears as I allow the waves to push me back to shore.
“You'll be fine when you get used to it.”
Pissed off I'm thinking about him, I turn and dive back into the waves; this time moving further from the beach.

I'm not sure how long I spend swimming against the tide then letting go allowing the water to wash me back to shallows; long enough for the water to not feel as cold but too long because my fingers numb.

A figure waits on the edge of the break as a wave carries me in again. Sky stands in all her understated but tantalising glory, her small figure alone on the beach. I'm surprised; convinced she'd decided to do her own thing now the sleeping arrangements were sorted. Did Sky come looking for me?

I wade out of the water and Sky's reaction confuses the hell out of me. She does her usual thing of staring at my body then looking away before taking another surreptitious glance, holding her hair out of her face. To get a better look? The celebrity mags are filled with glossy pictures of near naked, wet Dylan Morgan every time I go on holiday somewhere, so I know it's something that turns chicks on. I lick away the water trickling across my lips and those blue eyes widen again.

“Morning, summer Sky.”

“Having fun?”

I grin at the fact Sky can't take her eyes off me. “The water’s a bit colder than the beach near my house…”

“Your house?”

“Forget I said that.” I move closer and shake water off myself onto her.

Miss Uptight isn't impressed and edges away. “The water’s bloody cold! How can you stand swimming in this?”

“Because it makes me feel alive! Free. Fuck, I’d forgotten how awesome this place is. I can breathe again. Come in the water!” I flick more drops at her.

The smile I elicited drops from her face. “I’m okay. Not my thing.”

“I thought you said you wanted to do weird stuff that wasn’t your usual thing?”

“I draw the line at hypothermia. I’ll see you at the house.” I watch in disbelief as she walks away from me. She needs to learn to lighten up.

“The water’s not that cold!” I call.

No response.

Sometimes, I need to think before I do shit, but I get caught in the moment. I want Sky to feel free too, for the world to blow away whatever she's carrying and it won't happen while she's hiding behind her prim and proper persona. There has to be a childish Sky in there waiting to get out, one that can have fun with me.

Charging toward her retreating figure, I wrap my arms around Sky's waist and hoist her over my shoulder.

She shrieks as I spin around and run back to the waves. “What the hell are you doing?”

Her warm body against my skin sears desire through, which I didn't expect. This was supposed to be playful but her tits squashing into my naked back and the soft skin of her legs beneath my cool hands almost has me charging in the opposite direction to the house instead, to get this tension over with.

“Put me down!” she cries.

“Come and have a swim with me.”

“No!” Sky struggles against my grip and her hair blows across my face. When I twist my head to dislodge the strand, my lips brush her neck.

“Yes.”

“Stop behaving like a cave man.” She slaps my ass.
Fuck. Bad idea, Sky
.

Unable to resist, I slap hers too, giddy from the moment. “Stop being boring!”

“I'm not! I have all my clothes on!”

Sky’s accompanying giggle is my green light that she loves the silliness as much as I do. Thudding across the sand, I reach the water and I dump Sky into the waves, laughing. Unfortunately, I mistime this because the moment her backside hits the sand a breaking wave covers her head.

When Sky emerges from the water, her level of pissed off is unmistakable.

“Oh, my God! I can’t believe you did that!” she yells and drags herself upright.

I bite my lip but I can't stop myself laughing at the bedraggled girl, flattened hair and soaked to the skin, who I'm positive isn't as pissed off as she looks.

“Don’t! I’m annoyed with you! Look at me!” A wave pulls at Sky’s feet and I'm distracted by the stretch of her wet t-shirt across her hardened nipples so miss catching her. Sky topples and lands back on the sand then crosses her arms over chest, pouting at me.

“Here!” I grab Sky's wrist and pull her up.

The soggy girl attempts to give me a dirty look. “I’m soaked! If I’d wanted a swim, I’d have put my swimming costume on!”

“You don’t have a bikini?”

“Who the hell would wear a bikini on an English beach?”

“Plenty of people.”

Sky in a bikini, now there's an interesting image. I moisten my lips, the imagined bikini seems to have disappeared from the mental picture of Sky in my head and replaced with a naked one. Sky pulls at her top, and crosses her arms over her chest again. I switch to looking into her eyes but I'm fucking lost now. The childishness left the minute she became winner of Broadbeach's Miss Wet T-shirt.

“Sorry, I was just picturing you in your bikini.”

“I don’t have one.” She returns my look with darkening pupils and I itch to take hold of her again.

“You do in my imagination.” I step closer and whisper, “You’re lots of things in my imagination.”

She inhales sharply and steps back, pulling on the Sky who's fighting me – us. “Well, you can keep them there!” She wades out of the sea, carefully avoiding brushing me as she passes and unsteadily crosses the sand in the direction of the house, water running down her bare legs.

Ah, summer Sky, you confuse the hell out of me.

Pleased she didn't decide to lower her gaze far enough to see my reaction to her, I adjust myself and decide it isn’t a good idea to follow Sky when a) my body's taken control of my brain and b) her mood with me isn't the best.

Shivering, I glance at the clouds; the sun might stay for a while longer. Returning to my game, I push under the waves, the bubbling water sweeping all sound and sight from around me.

One thought follows me and circles my mind. It wouldn't be so wrong to fuck this woman, would it?

****

Chicks. Women. Whatever you want to call the female species. They're all fucking moody and complicated and Sky's the perfect example of this. When I arrive back at the cottage around lunchtime, Sky's curled up reading again. She’s changed into loose black pants and a baggy pink top, her damp hair pulled into a ponytail. As I close the front door, she looks around sharply before returning to her book.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Fine.”

Sky’s attention remains on her reading.

“I'll get a shower then.”

She loudly flicks a page. “If there's any hot water left, I had to use a lot to warm up.”

Still no eye contact. Or is she avoiding looking at my still damp awesomeness? I snort at my self-love. “I'll get a shower, and then we can get lunch?”

Sky shrugs.

Right.

Following a lukewarm shower, I hop downstairs hoping she's in a better mood. Sky hasn't shifted from her spot on the sofa.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“No.”

“Really? Can't I tempt you?”

Her lips purse as she looks up. “Tempt me?”

“With a bacon sandwich.”

She fights a flicker of a smile. “You ate all the bacon.”

“Did I? Oh. Okay. I'll make you something else.”

As I head to the kitchen, I pause. What the hell? She should be making me something. No, I’m impressed that, despite the fact I'm bloody starving, I have the politeness to make Sky something too. Pat on the back, Dylan. See, you can treat her like a person. Do ordinary, friendly things. That way, when things go further I won't feel so bad.

Not that she's grateful. Sky looks at the ham and salad sandwich in surprise then sets it on the coffee table. “Thanks.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“Is this sulking because I tried to have a bit of fun? You said holidays are for fun the other night.”

“Did I? Maybe you should stick to having fun on your own then, if I'm
sulking
.”

Her emphasis on the word sulking rings alarm bells. There’s banter and there’s time to back off. I may not know much about chicks, but I know enough to recognise the difference. “Fuck this.” I stomp back upstairs and flop on my bed.

The rest of the afternoon, I stay in my room alternating between lying on the bed and watching the grey clouds roll by, and writing the song from yesterday. The hypnotic movement of the clouds and sounds carried through the window lull me to sleep.

  The grey remains when I wake up a couple of hours later, refreshed and relaxed, something unfamiliar but welcome. Is she still sulking downstairs? Sky enjoyed doing things from our past before, maybe I should find something else to share to make things up to her.

I rub my head. What does Sky like? Books. Shells. Wine.

Junk food.

My stomach complains that sandwiches aren't enough for lunch and gives me a perfect idea.

I pick up my writing pad and pen; if she says no, I'll sit with her anyway until she decides to talk to me. In the same place and position, Sky still has her head stuck in a book. Has she been here all afternoon?

I throw the pen at Sky and it lands on her book.

“Fish and chips?” I ask.

She blinks up at me, eyes dark and does her usual quick checking me out thing. Her gaze remains on my chest and I'm about to say something when she points at my T-shirt.

“Is that your band?” she asks.

“White Stripes? No. I wish. We opened for them on a tour though, a few years ago.”

Sky’s clueless lack of response amuses me. She’s probably never heard of White Stripes either. What music does she listen to? What is she interested in?

Books.

“Are you okay? Your face is flushed.”

“Fine.” She tucks the book under a cushion.

Why does she keep hiding her book? Is Miss Uptight, butter-wouldn't-melt, reading porn? I dig under the cushion and pull the book out. “Ah! What's this? Fifty Shades?”

“No!”

Judging by the lack of clothes on the cover models and the suggestive title, my question is answered. The blurb describes some chick's fantasy about billionaires and innocent girls and hints at the not very innocent things they spend their spare time engaged in.

I look at her with raised brows. “Sounds ... interesting. Any good?”

“Guilty pleasure.”

Sky, you are an enigma
. “We all have guilty pleasures.”

“Fish and chips?”

“My guilty pleasure? Nope, way off the mark, Sky,” I say in a low voice.

“Ha, ha. Shut up. I mean, you said you wanted fish and chips.”

“Oh, so I did. Sorry, got a little distracted.” I fucking love her wide-eyed, caught off guard looks. Now she's disarmed I’m in with a chance of a ‘yes’. “How does fish and chips on the beach sound? I don't want pizza again; it sends you to sleep.”