Tryst (9 page)

Talie

He carried me to the couch, which wasn’t far from the doors off the deck. He walked with ease and grace, barely jostling me or needing to shift my weight in his arms. His skin felt like a satin sheet that was just plucked from the dryer. It seemed unfair a man would have such soft skin, but I couldn’t bring myself to be jealous.

Especially not when I was currently enjoying the way he felt against me. It seemed the sting on my arm was hurting worse; none of the pain dissipated. It hurt and the pain was distracting me from true admiration of the feel of being against him.

Before he laid me on the couch
, I let my cheek fall against his shoulder, allowing my eyes to flutter closed for just a moment and just let myself be held. It wasn’t like he was holding me because he loved me, or even that he cared about me. Hell, I was pretty sure he didn’t even like me. I wasn’t even sure I liked him.

But being in his arms just now, I was comfortable. I was safe. And honestly, just like cutting my hair and watching the sunrise, being in Gavin’s arms was somewhat freeing.

After a few minutes of relaxing against him, of taking comfort in his hold, I realized he wasn’t walking anymore. He was standing stock still, unmoving… almost like he was paralyzed.

I lifted my head and looked up. Our eyes collided.

He was watching me.

Intense azure eyes stared down
, and he wore an unreadable expression. His jaw was tight and his lips drew downward. Suddenly, I was extremely embarrassed. I was practically curling up against him like a purring cat. He probably thought I was some psycho who would steal one of his shirts on the way out the door and sleep in it.

“Sorry,” I said, unable to tear my gaze away from his. “I
t hurts pretty bad.”

So what if I sounded like a big weenie
? I would rather sound like a wimp than some pathetic woman who was starved for attention.

Oh. My. God. Was I?

Was I so lacking in any kind of physical affection that I was now turning a situation where a man was merely trying to help an injured woman into something more?

The muscle in the side of his jaw ticked
, and I bit back a grimace.

Time to get it together, Talie.
I could analyze myself and behavior later. Alone.

Gavin lowered me to the cushions, laying me across the plush, oversized couch and then propping a pillow behind my back.

“I’m fine,” I said and started to sit up. “I can just go have this looked at in Surf City at the walk-in clinic.”

“You’re going to drive yourself over there with a jellyfish tentacle in your arm?”

Well, duh. Of course I would.

“No
,” he commanded.

Did he think I was a dog?

“You’re not the boss of me!” I snapped like an angry five-year-old and swung my feet onto the floor.

His arms shot out, caging me in against the couch. He leaned close, so close I could feel the coolness of his breath across my cheek. “
You wouldn’t make it three steps toward the door.”

“What are you gonna do? Tie me down?”

“If I have to,” he rumbled.

I shuddered. The image of him tying me up and doing whatever he pleased with me sent jolts of heady desire down low into my belly.

His lips curved into a knowing smile. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

I gave him a
hell no
look.

“Little liar,” he whispered before pulling away.

I sank back against the cushions, my body feeling like a bowl full of Jell-O. Twinges of pain shot up my arm, and I looked down. My wrist and forearm were swelling slightly and my skin was an angry shade of red.

“Could I have some ice?” I asked, thinking it would soothe the pain.

“No,” he said on his way out of the room.

That was just rude.

He was entirely too bossy.

“What the hell did you bring me here for if you weren’t going to give me some ice?” I yelled after him.

He didn’t even reply. A few moments later, he came sauntering back into the room, carrying a load of supplies. None of it appeared to be ice. He was still not wearing a shirt, and frankly, looking at all his tan perfection was making me grouchy. He shouldn’t put the goods on display if he wasn’t going to let me sample them.

“Don’t you ever wear a shirt?” I grumped.

“Only when I have to.” He was busy lining up supplies along the wooden coffee table.

“What is all that?” I asked dubiously.

He picked up a pair of rubber gloves and slid them on. “Stuff to treat you.”

“I need ice. Not…” I glanced at the large clear bottle with a white label. “Is that vinegar?”

“Yes,” he said calmly. “Ice will change the toxicity in the sting and cause more pain. Vinegar will neutralize some of the proteins and make it feel better.”

Well
, didn’t he sound intelligent?

As he was opening up a little white kit
, he glanced at me, his eyes assessing my face. “Are you feeling dizzy? Trouble breathing?”

“No.”

“That’s good,” he said and smiled. His voice was low and soothing. He was calm and collected and acted like he treated these kinds of stings all the time. It made me feel safe.

He held up a pair of large tweezers in his gloved hand. “I’m going to remove the tentacle. I’ll be as gentle as I can, okay? Try and hold still.”

I held out my arm to him and turned my face away.

He chuckled. “Chicken
.”

“I’m sorry
, but I don’t want to watch you dig that thing out of my skin.”

I felt a small pinch and the burning intensified
, and then he pulled away. “Got it,” he said.

I watched as he wrapped the nasty thing in a napkin and then slid off his glove and create
d a ball around the napkin. Next he handed me a large plastic bowl. “Hold this under your arm,” he instructed.

I did and he began to pour the vinegar over the wound. I held my breath
, expecting more pain, but nothing happened. When he was done, he took the bowl and soaked a thick white cloth in the leftover vinegar. Then he placed it over my arm.

“It needs to soak for a few minutes.”

I wrinkled my nose against the strong odor of the liquid and settled against the couch.

“Want some coffee?” he called from what I guessed was the kitchen.

“Sure.”

He returned a few moments later carrying two white mugs. They looked small in his large hands. I took the offered mug and took a sip of the brew and groaned appreciatively.

I felt the intensity of his stare and glanced over, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He was staring, staring in a way that made me aware… aware of his attraction.

It wasn’t one
-sided, all those thoughts I’d been having. He’d had a few too.

“If I just need to soak this in vinegar, I can do it at my place,” I said, starting to sit up.

He didn’t say anything, just watched me over the rim of his cup and took a long swallow. When he was done, he set it aside and stood, coming to sit on the coffee table directly in front of me.

He lifted my arm and removed the cloth. After studying it for a few minutes
, he picked up a credit card. “I’m going to scrape the top of the sting. It might hurt.” He took no pleasure in that thought, which made my insides do a little happy dance.

“You want to scrape my arm with your credit card?”

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, looking me in the eye. “It’s to remove any leftover nematocysts.”

I bit my lip and nodded.

Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt. If anything, it felt good. The area was beginning to itch and this was good relief. After a few seconds of scraping the top, he reapplied the vinegar compress.

“After a few minutes
, we’ll wash it off and apply some hydrocortisone cream.”

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. He sure knew how to act like a jerk, but it was clear he knew how to not act like one too.

“So,” I said after a couple minutes of silence. “What do you do?”

“Surf.”

“Oh. Are you a pro?”

“Nope.”

“Do you live here alone?”

“Yep.” He moved off the coffee table and went into the kitchen. I heard some cupboards opening and closing
, and a few seconds later, he came back shoving a little white cake in his mouth. A rectangular white box was tucked under his arm and he carried a clear wrapper with another identical cake inside.

He sat down and shoved the other one in his mouth. Whole.

“Snack cake?” he said, offering me the box as he propped his bare feet on the table.

“No
, thanks.”

He shrugged and pulled out another package and proceeded to make short work of it as well.

I took his obvious preoccupation with Little Debbie to study my surroundings. Now that my arm wasn’t hurting as badly, I could concentrate on his house.

It was minimalistic and simple. The living room and dining room were one open space. It consisted of a tan couch, two club chairs
, and a coffee table in the center.

Adjacent from the couch was a large flat
-screen hanging on the wall with a small narrow table beneath it. The top of the table had what I assumed were empty boxes of snack cakes.

The coffee table also boasted a few empty boxes of the junk.

I thought he might have a problem.

“So what’s your favorite snack cake?” I asked.

“I don’t discriminate,” he said, lowering the box and picking up his coffee.

“Do you eat anything besides snack cakes?” I wondered out loud.

“Of course.”

He was a man of few words. It seemed the only conversation he knew how to have was an argument.

After a few more silent moments, I sat up. “I should go. I know you probably have things to do.” I really didn’t think he had anything to do, but I didn’t know what else to say.

He stood swiftly and sat down in front of me again. Our bare knees brushed together and a jolt of electricity moved through him and into me. I gasped a little in surprise.

He didn’t acknowledge what I knew he felt. Gavin discarded the cloth and patted the area dry with another towel. “How’s it feel?”

“Better,” I stuttered. The steady rise and fall of his shoulders while he breathed was hypnotizing. And the way he smelled made me want to lean closer. He smelled like the beach
—you know, that kind of oil that you use to help you tan? Like coconuts and sunshine.

I watched as Gavin uncapped a tube of hydrocortisone and squeezed some out on his fingers. He laid my arm across his lap, my hand falling just beside his hip.

Dear God, I was inches from his cock.

He took his time rubbing the little bit of cream over the injury. Moisture gathered in my bathing suit bottom and my breasts began to ache with desire.

“Why are you here, Talie?” he asked, no longer rubbing the medicine in, but not releasing my arm.

“Because a jellyfish stung me?”

The side of his lip tilted, and I wanted so badly to lean over and kiss the corner of his mouth. “I meant here, on the island.”

“Oh. Right.”

He began to draw lazy circles over the inside of my elbow with his fingers. He didn’t play fair. How was I supposed to keep up with a conversation when he did things like that?

And why did he affect me this way?

He was maddening, bossy, and he lived off snack cakes for goodness sake.

“Talie?” he said, my name ripping from deep within his throat.

“Oh, um… Vacation.”

“Who takes a vacation alone?”

“Who lives in a beach house alone?” I answered.

“I like my privacy. I’m not a social guy.”

“Then why did you bring me here?”

“I don’t know,” he said, sounding absolutely mystified.

“I’ll go,” I declared.

He nodded.

Neither of us moved. He didn’t release my arm.

It was as if we were both paralyzed in a bubble of attraction. The pull between us was so unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. It was physically powerful, chaining us together where we sat. Both of us voiced the intent to break apart, to go our separate ways, but our bodies overruled our brains.

There would be no moving away.

Only closer.

In one fluid movement, Gavin came forward, sweeping an arm around my waist and pulling me to the very edge of the couch. His knees parted and my body fit between them as his lips fastened to mine.

We were Velcro. He was the rough side and I was the soft. The closer he pressed
, the more tightly we fused. I swear to you in that moment I didn’t think. I couldn’t. I could only be pummeled by the onslaught of heavy desire that flooded my system like a surging waterway.