What Endures (22 page)

“I wish you could remember me,” she whispered.

His heart contracted painfully at her words. “I wish-“

“No,” she said, covering his lips with her fingers.  “If you say it out loud, it won’t come true.”

He nodded, distracted by her hand moving across his face to caress his cheek. Her eyes were following the movement of her hand as it slowly trailed down to his jaw. Her fingers traced the line of jaw and found their way back to his lips. Her expression was one of wonder, as if she couldn’t quite believe that she was doing what she was.

Slowly, her eyes moved from his lips then up to his eyes, and held them unwaveringly. He and Megan had shared these looks before. Moments when they somehow ended up too close to each other. He recognized the desire in her eyes, because he felt it too. But no matter how much they had both wanted it, they had somehow managed to keep their distance. . .to let those moments pass. . .

Until tonight.

One second he was staring into her eyes and the next, he felt her lips on his. Her lips were soft, and despite her earlier encounter with the cold water, warm. Her kiss was hesitant at first, but when he didn’t offer any resistance, she angled her head and captured his lips more fully. Without thinking he returned her kiss, and moved his hands to her hips to steady the both of them. He felt her smile against his lips and then heard her sigh. The kind of sigh you’d give when you finally got home after having been away for a long time.

He exhaled softly.

Kissing had definitely gotten better since that awkward tongue lapping with Alison Myers. Or maybe it was just kissing Megan. He didn't know how, but he was kissing her like it was something he knew, something his body remembered.

She suddenly stopped and pulled away. Her eyes searched his, as her hands cupped his face. He saw the naked desire in her eyes and that jumpstarted his brain, which seemed to have shut down momentarily during their kiss.

“Megan-“

“Shhh,” she commanded quietly. “No more talking.”

And before he could respond, she was kissing him again. This time there was no hesitation to the kiss. This kiss was urgent, seeking. He felt her desire in the kiss as she traced his bottom lip with her tongue causing his gut muscles to tighten. His arms wrapped themselves tighter around her waist, drawing her firmly against him. She felt so damn good, all soft and curvy. Whatever he had been thinking completely flew out of his mind, only aware of Megan and her mouth against his, her tongue dancing with his, stroke by delicious stroke.

She tasted fucking amazing. Sweet from the champagne and just the slightest bit salty from the water. She felt even better, her body pressed against him, her chest aligned completely against him, the only thing separating their bare skin was the thin fabric of his shirt.

He groaned as her hands trailed down his chest, slowly caressing his skin. He pulled her even tighter against him as his hand slid down the curve of her waist to her thigh. His shirt rose up her body as she wound her arms around his neck, pulling herself flush against him. His heart stopped when he realized she was completely naked under his shirt. If she had been wearing underwear underneath her dress, she had discarded them when she had discarded her wet dress.

Liquid warmth begin to spread inside him, and he could hear a voice in his head telling him that he should stop this, but the voice was faint, and growing fainter as he and Megan continued to kiss passionately. His hand moved to cup one of her butt cheeks and she made a soft, whimpering sound that was like a straight shot of desire to his groin.

It was as if his body had a mind of its own. It was responding to Megan’s touch almost instinctively. It matched her every action and movement perfectly. It was if they fitted together. While he couldn’t remember making out with Megan, his body certainly did. His body remembered how to touch her, and how to react to her touch.

She shifted, sliding herself slightly off of him as she began to undo the buttons of his shirt. He was mesmerized by the sight. His breathing grew ragged and the tightness in his pants was past painful at this point. When she finally undid all the buttons and was just starting to slide his shirt off of her, his mind made one last ditch effort at chivalry.

"Megan." His voice was husky and shaky.

She shook her head, placing her hands against his chest and exerting just enough pressure so that he fell back against the sand, on his back. She didn't hesitate to climb on top of him. He gasped as her thigh brushed against his erection and he felt her hardened nipples scrape against his chest.

She kissed him again, more insistent this time, her intent clear. He was nearly beyond the point of rational thought when she finally broke the kiss, raising her head to look into his eyes. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed and her eyes had a glazed quality that he knew wasn't from the champagne.

His mind felt the need to try once again to put the brakes on things. He pushed her tousled hair from her face, trying not to focus on her kiss-swollen lips, or the way her heaving chest was causing a breast to peek in and out of her unbuttoned shirt. His dick was throbbing painfully but somehow he found his voice. “We. . . .I don't think. . .”

“No,” she admonished. “Don’t think. Just. . . .just feel.”

“Megan. . .”

She leaned in and kissed him lightly. “No regrets,” she whispered against his lips before she kissed him again. He responded instinctively and kissed her back, passionately and deeply. Then all thoughts of stopping were wiped from his mind as he let himself do as she instructed - feel.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Waking up was painful.

That was the first thought that Megan had as consciousness mercilessly jabbed at her. Everything was painful. The light. Her breathing. The pillow she was haphazardly lying on. The way the inside of her mouth felt like she had slept with a mouthful of cotton. Moving. Even thinking was painful.

But what was most painful of all was that noise. She could only describe it as a screech. A loud, irritating, headache-inducing screech. It felt as if it were right next to her ear, but she knew it was further away. It came and went, started then stopped. On and off.

What the hell was it?

She hesitantly opened her eyes and shut them immediately against the bright sunlight. She groaned. Why was it so bright in here?

The noise came back again and she helplessly covered her ears against it.

Please go away
, she thought. After a few seconds, the noise seemingly obeyed her. She sighed softly and once more, opened her eyes, forcing them to stay open against the bright onslaught of the day.

A few painful seconds later, and her eyes adjusted to the room. She was confused to find herself looking out at the picturesque beach. Her mind felt like it was moving in slow motion because it took her another few seconds to realize that she was looking out the large, floor-to-ceiling windows in the beach house’s living room.

She was confused, wondering why she was in the living room and not her bedroom. Before she could ponder it any further, the noise came back and once again, the painful jabbing sensation in her head took over.

She moaned in protest and slowly sat up. Just as she did so, the noise stopped. She blinked several times against the light and ran her hand through her hair, which felt dry and sandy. She looked down at the white shirt she was wearing in confusion. The shirt was vaguely familiar to her, and she knew that it didn’t belong to her. It certainly wasn’t her normal sleep attire.

Living room. Not my clothes
. She closed her eyes, waiting for the recollection of events to hit her. But nothing came.

The noise, however, did. She groaned, pressing her hands against her ears and willed herself to get up. She looked around, trying to find the source and gauged that it was coming from the direction of the kitchen.

She stumbled to her feet and headed in the direction of the kitchen, which was set off to the left of the living room. She took a few wobbly steps, wondering hazily if the room was really spinning.  She almost made it to the steps leading up from the sunken living room when an intense wave of nausea overtook her and she spun on her heels and ran for the guest bathroom down the hall.

She made it just in time. Once she had emptied the contents of her churning stomach into the toilet, she stumbled to the sink and rinsed out her mouth. She groaned and splashed some water on her face and looked at her reflection in the mirror above the sink.

It was not a pretty sight. Her hair was a tangled mess. Her eyes were bleary and red. And her face still held the imprints from the couch’s pillows. She whined softly.
What the hell did I do last night?
She splashed more water on her face, hoping to add a bit of color to it and then tried as best as she could to finger comb her hair into something other than a rat’s nest. Her efforts helped, but only in the sense of making her look less like death warmed over.

She drew in a deep, steadying breath and then headed back out toward the kitchen. She hadn’t heard the screeching noise since she had bolted for the bathroom, which was a good thing because her head was fully throbbing now.

Walking slowly into the kitchen, she spotted Jason instantly. He was standing behind the counter, and
he
was the cause of that horrific screeching. He was mixing something in a blender and as she walked in, he turned it on, causing her to yelp in protest as the noise hit her aching head full force.

“Loud!”

He turned toward her, startled, and quickly shut off the blender. “Whoa! Megan.”

Groaning, she made her way toward the stools lining the counter. “What are you doing? You could wake the dead.”

He smiled. “Not feeling well hmmm?”

She shot him an irritated look before she climbed onto the stool. She gingerly laid her throbbing head onto her arms on top of the counter. “I hate cheerful morning people.”

He chuckled. “Says the person who gets up at 6 am without fail.”

“I’m not cheerful about it.”

“Not today, you’re not,” he agreed. “But then, you weren’t up at 6 today either.”

She uttered something that sounded like a cross between a grunt and a groan, but didn’t look up at him. Jason didn’t say anything for several seconds but then a dull thud next to her head caused her to sit up quickly, which only made the throbbing in her head worse. She stared at the tall glass containing some reddish liquid. Two white pills were sitting next to the glass. She looked at him questioningly. “Two Tylenols and tomato juice.”

She groaned as her stomach lurched rebelliously at the mere thought of having something put into it. She laid her head back down on her arms. “I. . .can’t.”

“Megan?” She ignored him, closing her eyes. All she wanted to do now was to fall back asleep. “Megan.”

Rap! Rap!

She jerked her head up with a whine of protest. “Don’t!”

He looked at her, unperturbed, his hand still curled into a fist and laying against the counter, and looking as if it were ready to start knocking against it again if she were to put her head back down. “Just drink it.”

“You drink it.”  She was well aware that she was acting like a petulant child but she didn’t care.

“I’m not the one with a hangover,” he returned easily, as he pulled the blender from its power station and poured himself a glass of what she recognized was a protein shake. He had started drinking them again.

She felt her stomach flip violently at the sight of the thick liquid Jason was sipping. “Oh God.”

“The sooner you drink that, the sooner you’ll feel better. You need to rehydrate yourself and the tomato juice also has the nutrients you need. The Tylenol will help with the headache.”

“How do you know about what helps with hangovers?” she challenged. “Do you even remember what a hangover feels like?”

“I’m guessing it’s like how you look right now.”

“You’re mean.”

He smiled and moved so that he was standing in front of her, with only the counter separating them. He picked up the glass in one hand and the pills in the other and held them out to her. “Come on. Bottoms up.”

She whimpered but took the glass and pills from him. She popped the pills in her mouth and then downed the tomato juice, which seemed to taste extra sour. “Ugh.”

“Good girl,” he said approvingly.

She mumbled something incoherent as she laid her head down on her arms again. The throbbing in her head was as intense as ever, but consciousness was slowly taking over and last night was coming back to her. But only in bits and pieces.

Jason’s birthday. Dinner with his family. The predictable family dysfunction. Jason getting upset. Their ‘escape.’

Then things started to get hazy. She remembered the beach and the fire. The cupcakes she had gotten for his birthday. The champagne. She groaned softly as her head continued to throb. Of course she remembered the champagne, and her drinking it like it was water. She closed her eyes, hoping it would make the events of last night clearer. It didn’t.

There was some vague memory of her falling into the freezing ocean water. Getting out of her wet clothes. Kissing Jason. Making out with Jason on the sand. Naked.

Her eyes popped open as images of her sprawled across Jason and their frantic, passionate kissing played in her still not-100%-clear head. She shifted slightly, trying not to move her head too much and looked down at what she was wearing.

No wonder the shirt seemed familiar. It was Jason’s. And she was pretty sure she was naked underneath it. And she had woken up in the living room, not her own bed. The living room, which happened to lead right out onto the beach. She racked her brain trying to piece last night together but it was hopeless. Her recollection had gaping holes that she couldn’t fill no matter how hard she tried.

Oh, God. Oh, my God. Did I? Did we?
As her thoughts began to run away from her, she could feel real panic settling in. What was she supposed to do now? She wasn’t even sure that she and Jason had, but if they had, now what? She groaned, but this time it wasn’t from her hangover.