With Strings Attached (18 page)

“Oh. Really.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes smiled at him over the rim of the coffee cup as she took a quick sip. “So you should come. It’ll be fun.”

Neve made a little choking noise and Matt glanced at her then smiled again at Jaden. “Well, yeah. I probably will go with him.”

“Awesome!” She beamed again. “Well, I’ll see you then. Bye, Neve.”

Matt watched Jaden walk away, her butt muscular and compact beneath a pair of short khaki shorts. He turned to Neve. “What?” he asked. “Why are you giving me that evil eye?”

“I was going to go and hang out with Dylan and the surf sisters.”

“So? You still can. But…er…you should know…Dylan’s out on a date tonight.”

“Really? With who?”

“Corey.”

She went very still and eyed him. “Corey? Your Corey?”

“She’s not my Corey. Not that way. We’re friends.”

She made a noise, something like a small grunt. “Well. Her and Dylan. Damn.”

“
You
are having nothing to do with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because…because…you’re my sister.”

She laughed, not looking all that broken up about Dylan and Corey. “What the hell does that mean? I’ll hook up with whatever guys I want.”

“Not with Dylan. He’s only here for a few weeks anyway.”

She hitched a shoulder. “So? Did I say I wanted to marry him and have his babies?”

Matt’s jaw tightened. Man, she was hard to get along with sometimes. “He’s a player, Neve.”

“So am I.” She met his eyes challengingly. “Listen. My break’s almost over. What did you want to talk about?”

He eyed her, one corner of his mouth twisting up. “I wanted to have a long and deep conversation about your goals in life, but apparently we’ll have to do it another time.”

“Oh, Jesus.” She rose gracefully to her feet and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Can’t wait for that. See you around, Matty.” And she headed back behind the counter.

Matt sat back in the love seat. She needed to settle down, dammit. This wasn’t over. He couldn’t sit there and watch his little sister wasting her life. Someone had to look after her.

Sensing eyes on him, he glanced up at the table of women, who were again looking at him. What the hell? He smiled, but drained the last of his coffee, rose and left the café.

Dylan’s foot was aching but he ignored it and limped toward Corey, hoping he didn’t seem as pathetic as he felt with his gimpy foot. That moment at the beach when she’d asked what was wrong, he’d known he’d shown too much. He had to get a grip. “Don’t want a drink,” he murmured. “Just want you.”

His hands on her hips, he gently pulled her against him and bent his head to kiss her mouth. Her soft lips parted beneath his and he licked inside, tasting her, so sweet, so good. She felt incredible in his arms, all soft curves and silky long hair, pressing herself against him in a way that told him she wanted the same thing he did. Sex. Now.

“I’d bend you over this counter and do you right here,” he said against her mouth. “If I wasn’t worried that my leg would give out in the middle of it all.”

She huffed a small laugh against his mouth, and they rested their foreheads together. “Wouldn’t want that to happen.”

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“Um. Down the hall. But what’s the rush? Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

He drew back. What was up? “Okay, sure,” he said. “Let’s have a drink.”

“I have beer and…beer.”

“Just what I wanted.” He forced a smile, digging for patience.

He’d never been patient, with anything; he liked his sex fast and hard. The other night when Matt had made them slow down, it had just about killed him. But Matt wasn’t here now.

He closed his eyes briefly. Or was he? A pang of guilt cooled his jets momentarily. Shit! Why’d he have to think of Matt? And there was no fucking reason to feel guilty, dammit. They were just friends! She was here, with him, her choice. This had nothing to do with Matt. His best friend. The guy who’d helped him get through high school English. And Math. And Chemistry. The guy who’d made him believe he could be one of the best surfers in the world. The guy he’d do just about anything for.

He dragged his eyes open and watched Corey open two bottles and pour them into glasses. She carried them into her small living room while he followed along. Then she picked up the remote and turned the TV on. Great. They were going to watch TV.

He adjusted his hard-on as he lowered himself to the couch, then accepted the beer glass from her. They chatted as she flicked through various channels. He had no idea what she was looking for. He really didn’t care. He just wanted to make out.

Finally he set his empty glass on the coffee table and curved his hand around the nape of her neck, drawing her in close for another kiss. He felt her soften as the kiss went on, and he pulled her whole body closer still. “Mmm,” he said, rubbing his face against hers. “Nice.”

“Yeah.”

He kissed her cheek, then her mouth again, sliding his tongue against hers, one hand tangling in her hair. Their mouths fused, slid, clung. He pressed his groin against her hip, his dick throbbing in his jeans. “Oh man,” he groaned. “Corey, you have no idea how hot I am for you.”

Her breathing quickened and she wriggled against him in a way that made his blood sizzle.

Daringly, he slid a hand from her shoulder down to her breast and gently squeezed her through her shirt. So soft, yet pleasantly firm. His cock hardened even more. She moaned.

Then she moved her mouth from his and buried her face in the side of his neck, her body pressed against his. He held her for a moment, her hair cool against his face. “Something wrong, Corey?”

Corey hid her face against Dylan’s neck, trying to figure out why she didn’t want to drag him into her bedroom and jump him. He was sweet and sexy and hot for her, and earlier, she’d thought she was hot for him, and then when they’d actually arrived at her place, suddenly she’d felt…weird.

“I guess I’m tired,” she finally said. “I’m always tired.”

He stroked a hand down her hair, then down her back. “Okay. We’ll just sit here and watch TV then.”

“You’re nice.”

He made a choked sound. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She smiled against his chest and let out a long, slow breath. What was wrong with her?

Dylan picked up the remote and changed the channel until he found something that interested him. She shifted position so she could see the TV too, snuggled into his side, and he curled an arm around her.

She wouldn’t blame him for being annoyed. She’d been the worst kind of tease, leading him on like that, inviting him back to her place and then…what? She really did like him, and she’d been attracted to him from the moment she met him. Having sex with him, and Matt, had been hot, hot, hot. She’d barely hesitated to jump all over that offer. But now here she was alone with Dylan and she was hesitating.

Maybe because she really didn’t know him that well. Maybe having Matt there with them had helped make her more at ease having sex with a guy who was nearly a stranger. And yet, Dylan had been nothing but a gentleman, even now, when he had to be frustrated.

She closed her eyes and suppressed a small sigh, the sound of the movie fading away as she did in fact drift off to sleep, there on the couch snuggled up with Dylan.

She was jolted out of sleep, how much later she had no idea. She blinked into the darkness, the television flickering but the sound off. Why was she in the living room? And who was this hot male body she was sprawled on top of?

Dylan. Memory flooded back, but then Dylan jerked, one hand coming up and smacking her shoulder. She made a little noise and lifted up to glare at him. In the faint light, his face was contorted, eyes still closed. What the…? Then he made a noise, like a choking, gasping noise and her heart leaped. She scrambled off the couch, onto her knees beside him. “Dylan? Dylan, what’s—” Was he having a heart attack or something? A stroke? A seizure? Her mind raced with possibilities.

“No! No, Jesus, no…” He made another choking sound and thrashed against the couch cushions.

“Dylan!” Alarm heated her veins and she grabbed him. “Dylan, wake up!” He must be having a nightmare, but it was scaring her, seeing him like this, out of control, apparently terrified. What on earth was he dreaming about? She gave him a shake. “Wake up!”

His eyes fluttered, he grabbed for her, his hands in a death grip on her arms. Then he shoved her away from him. She almost fell back onto the coffee table. Her hair tangled across her face and her heart raced, stealing her breath. “Dylan!”

He sat bolt upright and stared at her, eyes wild, mouth open. It was like he didn’t even recognize her, and then she saw his face change, soften. His eyebrows drew down, and his lips pressed together. “Shit,” he muttered, rubbing his face with both hands. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” She pushed her hair off her face and edged closer. “Are you okay, Dylan? Jesus, you scared the crap out of me.”

“I’m okay.” He pressed his hands to his face in a V over his nose, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Jesus fucking Christ. I can’t believe that happened. Now.”

“What happened?” She tried to catch her own breath, pressed a hand where her heart bumped wildly. “Was it a bad dream?”

“Uh. Yeah.” He bent his head then lifted it and looked at her. “I’m so sorry. What did I… Did I hurt you?” His eyes filled with worry.

“No.” She shook her head, crouched there. “No, I’m fine.” She regarded him curiously. “Does that…happen a lot?” He’d said “now” as if it had happened before.

“No. Not a lot. Not any more.”

“Oh.” She felt at a loss, not sure what to say, what to do, how to make it better.

“It’s okay.” He gave her a smile, not even close to his usual sexy charming grin. “Really.”

“Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”

“No.” He rolled his eyes. “Just me being an idiot. Christ.”

“Lay back down.” She moved closer and touched his forehead, which gleamed in the faint light. Perspiration dampened her fingertips. She smoothed his hair back. “You’re in a cold sweat.”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes briefly and lowered himself back to the couch. “Yeah, that’s what happens. I wake up sweating.”

She climbed back onto the couch and again cuddled into his side, her arm around his middle, and he held her too. His body still felt tense, his breathing still fast. “What were you dreaming about?” she whispered.

“Nothing.”

After one heartbeat, she snorted. “Yeah, right.

“I’m sorry, Corey.”

“Don’t apologize! You can’t help it if you have bad dreams. I only…I want to help.”

“I don’t need help. I’m fine.”

His blunt words made her want to draw back, cooled her feelings. “Oh. Okay, then.”

He sighed and held on tighter to her. “I’m sorry. Again. Dammit. It was just a stupid dream.”

She licked her lips and kept her face turned away from him. What was going on with him? It was all so puzzling, so disturbing. Dylan was such a cool, laid-back guy, a surfer dude who made his living riding waves on the ocean, always laughing and smiling, taking risks and having fun. It made her chest feel tight. Was he worried about being able to compete again?

“You said you had your second therapy session today.”

“Yeah.”

“Did she say you’re healing okay?”

“She says I’m a lazy slug and I need to work harder.”

She choked on a laugh. “Seriously?”

The curve of his mouth tickled her hair. “No. Well, not in those words.”

“You said you’d only be here a few more weeks. Is that when she said you could surf again?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not bad.”

“It’s killer.”

“You don’t sound very happy about it.”

He sighed and her hair fluttered. “It’s a few weeks too long,” he said quietly. “I have to get back to it, Corey.”

She turned in his arms to look at him quizzically and stroked a hand over his hair. “You will.”

He nodded, but his mouth was a straight line and he kept his eyes closed so she couldn’t see the expression in them.

Chapter Twelve

Corey’s first swimming lesson had her stomach knotted, her knees wobbly and her hands sweaty. But she could do this. It would totally be fine.

She slid into the water along with two other adults who were learning to swim, both women. She looked across at the other side of the pool where a group of mothers and infants were in the water with an instructor. The babies were happily letting their moms dip them in and out of the water, splashing and laughing. Well, except for one child who was screaming and red-faced.
I feel your pain, little buddy.

But honestly, how humiliating was it that there were
babies
learning to swim along with her? Geez.

“You’ll be learning the basic skills to be comfortable in the water,” Tad the instructor said, a gorgeous, tanned blond god in red board shorts. Holy hotness, swimmers had awesome bodies—wide shoulders, ripped abs, narrow hips, powerful thighs. Except he was about sixteen years old. Which was even more humiliating—being taught to swim by a teenager. She gulped, gripping the edge of the pool, in water only up to her waist. “You’ll become comfortable entering and exiting the water and learn the skills needed for stroke development such as breathing techniques and surface support, and you’ll learn how to float with and without assistance.”