Surviving Us (16 page)

Davis suggests we hang out at his place tonight, so I hurry to change into my swimsuit, despite his insisting I really don’t need one. He’s already in the plunge pool when I arrive, a soft melody from his phone floating across the deck with the warm sea breeze.

“Get your gorgeous ass in here,” he drawls as soon as he sees me, and I happily comply.

He extends his hands towards me as I lower myself in the chilly pool, grasping me by the waist and pulling me into his lap—my new favorite place.

“Thank you so much for tonight, Davis.” I cup his jaw, skimming my thumb over his dark stubble as I gaze intensely into his eyes. “I still can’t believe you did all that for me.”

He weaves his fingers around the back of my neck and into my hair, kissing me softly. “Wait ’til you see what else I’ve got planned,” he mumbles against my lips.

“What are you talking about?!” I exclaim, dumbfounded. “When did you have time to plan things?”

“You’ll see,” he replies with a secretive grin. “It pays to make friends with the locals.”

“Crazy boy,” I lightly suck on his bottom lip, eliciting a groan from him, “you’re gonna spoil me.”

Tugging my head back, his mouth drops to my neck, kissing and nipping a heated path down the sensitive skin. “You deserve to be spoiled, Bristol. Let me do it.”

“Why?” I pant breathlessly, grinding my body against his steeled erection.

In one fluid motion, his hands fall from my hair and effortlessly untie my bikini top. He growls under his breath as the small piece of fabric drifts away, leaving my exposed breasts bobbing at the surface of the water. Smirking, he lowers his mouth to one of my hardened nipples. “Why not?” he asks just before flicking his tongue across it.

I half-laugh, half-shiver with delight at his adorable arrogance. Pushing him away from my chest, I shake my head as I raise up onto his knees. “Uh-uh. Tonight, it’s my turn to take care of you,” I remind him.

And that’s exactly what I do.

IF I WASN’T ALREADY
in trouble with this girl before she wrapped her juicy lips around my dick, I sure as hell am now. Her mouth fits my cock like an expensive, tailored suit created specifically for every nook and ridge of my shaft.

“Fuck, Bristol,” I grunt as I watch her head bob up and down in my lap, swallowing me completely each time.

The second she took hold of my erection underwater, I lifted her up and out of the pool, hauling her fine ass inside my room for complete privacy. She’s now kneeling between my legs as I’m propped up against the fluffy pillows in the bed, my fingers tangling in her hair as she uses her mouth like a damn porn star. Sucking with the perfect amount of force, she simultaneously curls her tongue round and round while lightly scraping her teeth across the base. One of her hands expertly fondles my ball sac while the other plays with her own tits, pinching and rolling her nipples between her fingers.

Where in the fuck did she learn to do this?

Never mind. I don’t want to know.

The internal pressure builds quickly, despite my effort to last longer than five minutes. She peers up at me through dark, full lashes, her glassy eyes glimmer with acknowledgement of what she’s doing.

“Pl
-
please stop,” my mouth begs, but my hands hold her head tight against me. “I’m gonna come soon.”

She opens her mouth, gaze steadily locked on my face, waiting . . . daring me to fulfill my promise. The next thing I know, I’m exploding, pumping into her mouth with such voracity that I fall back into the pillows with my eyes closed, calling out her name. The euphoric state is so intense I’m unable to move, to talk, or do anything but drift off to sleep in this exact place.

I’m not quite sure how much time passes before I finally wake back up
—it could be five minutes; it could be an hour. Raising my lids, I glance around the room, finally finding her curled up in the chair on the other side of the room, already redressed in her swimsuit. Her eyes are open, so she’s obviously not asleep, but the usual expression on her face is different . . . distant.

“Why are you over there?” I croak, battling the dry, barren tundra that is the inside of my mouth. “Come lay with me.”

Bristol lifts her head and smiles an empty smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m pretty tired, so I should head back over to my place. I wanted to wait until you were alert to thank you again for everything tonight.” She unfolds her long legs out from under her and stands up. “No one has ever done anything like that for me before.”

“But wait,” I argue, “I still need to take care of you. I’m ready again now.”

She walks across the room, bending down to kiss my cheek when she reaches my side. “You’ve done plenty tonight, and I’m sleepy. I need to go to bed.”

For a split second, the tiniest measure of time perceivable by the human senses, I see it . . . I feel it. She wants me to ask her to stay the night, to reassure her I’m into her as much as she’s into me.

But I can’t. And I don’t.

Even though I want to. And I am.

The one and only girl I’ve
slept
with in my life spent her last night alive asleep in my arms. She was my high school girlfriend for nearly two years, and who knows if we’d have beat the odds and stayed together through college and into adulthood, but I do know I loved her. Even though it’s been two years since she’s been gone, I’m scared if I have feelings for someone else or allow another girl to get too close, I’ll be hurting her. And I’d never purposely hurt Emma.

“Okay, I’m pretty tired myself.” I sit up to properly kiss her good night. “You weren’t lying about being
trouble
on your knees. You straight wore me out with your mouth alone, and that
never
happens.”

I cringe the second the words leave my mouth, not wanting it to sound like she’s one of many girls I get blowjobs from on a regular basis, so I quickly try to smooth it over. “Will you wait for me tomorrow morning before breakfast? You never know when my next surprise may happen.”

Seemingly unfazed by my jerk comment, she smiles and nods. “Yeah, of course. I’ll stop by around eight-thirty. Good night, Davis.”

“Good night, Bristol.”

Then, she leaves.

The following day, I wake up before sunrise. Throwing on a pair of athletic shorts and running shoes, I take off down to the beach for my morning run, a practice I adopted not long after the plane crash. For me, it’s not just about the physical anguish, though I do usually run until I can hardly breathe, but it’s the only time I can truly clear my thoughts and think about Emma and the other friends I lost without having a complete mental breakdown.

Today, however, as I sprint across the sand, I find my thoughts continually drifting to Bristol, and it exhilarates and terrifies me all at once. How can this girl who I’ve only known a few days already be affecting me like this? Sure, she’s gorgeous, and yeah, she’s funny, but I’ve met lots of pretty girls with a good sense of humor. Of course, there’s the whole sports and OU connection, which I find myself questioning if it’s simply coincidental or a true twist of fate, but honestly, we’ve talked so very little about this, so it’s not as if we’ve bonded over it.

The only thing I can figure is it’s something to do with being here, in this paradise-like utopia that has my brain fooled into thinking I could possibly think and feel like a normal person . . . kind of like an emotional getaway. Of everyone else here, it only makes sense she and I would hang out and get along, seeing how we’re close in age and have similar interests. Once I return home, I’m sure I’ll quickly revert back into the detached, cynical head-case I became after the accident.

Yeah, that must be it.