Page 15 of Keeping It
Some of my best friends are settled down and married. Smith has Carina, and Macs has Teala. Ben has Harper and those men are my brothers—SEALs I respect, and men who I look up to. Surely if they can manage to have a significant other and not accidentally shoot each other, I can manage Caroline and…sky diving with a side of boring meetings.
I grab the half-gone bottle of chardonnay from the door and find a wine glass in the cabinet above the stove. I pour the rest of the contents into it and toss the bottle into the recycling bin.
My nerves fire in every different direction. Part of my brain is reminding me of Stella, and the other half is buzzing with anticipation. The brain in my dick, is merely excited. I haven’t fucked a woman in so long.
I haven’t fucked a woman I’ve actually wanted inforever.
Heading back into the living room, I find Caroline staring out the wide window overlooking the airport, her long blonde hair falling in loose waves down her back. She looks picturesque. A vision of everything I’ve always wanted and never had—untouchable, a woman I don’t deserve. She is unadulterated brilliance wrapped up in a female body so tempting, my hands shake at approach. The need to take her in my arms is strong. After a month of playing pretend friend when all I wanted was my cock inside her body, my feelings for Caroline have reached a fever pitch. I’m half burning fucking desire and half awestruck that after all this timeit has happened.
There is a soft song playing from a speaker on a bookshelf and she turns her head to the side when she hears me. Her silhouette is outlined by the low lights in the room, and it takes my breath away. “I’m not in the business of getting my heart destroyed,” Caroline says, her tone quiet, vulnerable.
Grabbing her waist, I turn her to face me full on. She takes the wine and has a sip. “Lucky for you I’m not in the business of destroying hearts. Bad men, lives, terrorist hideouts, my own life, maybe, but not hearts,” I reply, watching her eyes dance across my face. She takes another sip, and sets the long stemmed glass down on the decorative sill behind her.
“Dance with me?” she says, offering one had. My heart hammering, I know I wouldn’t be able to say no, even if I tried, even if it meant saving my own life. I pull her into my arms and sway to the music. Our feet are bare and as we move, they barely make a sound. It’s just heartbeats and a sultry song rasping through the air.
Caroline presses her full, pink lips together. “If I’m defining what it means to be your girlfriend, I think that anytime we dance, you’re not allowed to wear a shirt.” I stood on the dock nearly naked in front of her only hours before, but this request shocks me—has me wavering in my overabundance of self-confidence.
“Take it off me,” I return, watching for any sign of hesitation. It’s there. An unsure, questioning haze clouding her decision, but timidly she grabs the bottom of my t-shirt and raises it up to my neck, as high as she can get it. With my right hand, I grab the back of the collar and take it the rest of the way off. My left hand stays firmly wrapped around her, and her fingers slide over my pecs and abs. The coolness of her hands is a jolt and my muscles tighten in response.
The song changes, but we keep sliding around the room in the waltz we’ve created. When we’ve made it back in front of the window, I dip her back, her fingers clutching my side for dear life, and her laugh cuts through the music.
Her neck is in my face and in this moment, I can’t control myself. Licking my lips, because my mouth is watering, I press a kiss against the hollow of her neck. She smells like laundry detergent and tastes like sweat, and soap, and beer. One would think that wouldn’t be the most intoxicating combination, but goddamn if I don’t pull away right now, I’ll drool on the woman.
Chill bumps rise on her skin, climbing up and down her neck and spreading across her chest. She’s not wearing a bra, something I assessed the second she walked past me after she changed. The swell of her tits press against my bare skin and I work to take a long, slow breath.
“Now I have a question,” I say. Her eyes are this doe eyed innocence when she meets my gaze and nods once. “Areyouin the business of destroying hearts?”
Her tinkling laugh sounds like she inhaled fairy dust for dinner. “Weren’t you paying attention earlier? I wouldn’t know how to break a heart if I tried.”
I believe her. How could I not? She turns to take another sip of wine, but keeps one hand on my body. My dick has been permanently hard since the second she touched me, and I’m sure she’s felt it—thrilled to have this control over me. After she takes a few large sips she faces me again. “Look at us, Tahoe. If someone had to guess who would break a heart. Who would it be? You or me?”
She’s unsuspecting. I’ll give her that. Just like Stella was. All of my friends thought Stella was end game because of how much she loved me. Caroline has no idea how appealing she is. Not just in looks, but in hobbies and personality. Any one of the different men in Bronze Bay would give their left nut to have Caroline as their girlfriend. She sees herself as the person everyone tells her she is, not as she truly is. Stunning, intelligent, worthy of so much more than I can give her.
I rest my hand on the side of her face. “You’re beautiful. Kind, smart, handy,” I admit, waving my arm around the house she built. “There are things about you I don’t understand quite yet, but from what I’ve gathered this far, you’re the biggest catch in Bronze Bay. The biggest catch in my world by a long shot.”
She narrows her eyes. “You’re such a flatterer. Has anyone told you that?”
Tilting my head, I say, “Come on. You know the answer to that. I don’t flatter anyone. What I just said was merely a compliment.”
“You’re going to have to meet my mama and daddy the proper way,” she says, and it feels like a question.
I spin her around and her dress floats out. “I wouldn’t dream of meeting them in an improper way.”
“My daddy already has a first opinion of you,” she says after I pull her back to my chest. “You’re not scared?” she asks.
I laugh in response. “I’m not scared of anything.”
It’s a boldfaced lie. I’m terrified right now. Of her. Of the things she’s making me feel. Caroline May is a Cat five hurricane threatening to ravage every cell left in my heart.
“You should be,” she says, referencing her father again.
“No shirts when dancing, right?” I ask, as we sway to another song.
Caroline nods. “It would be a crime,” she replies.
I nod. “We take this slow,” I say. “I need that in our definition.”
Her forehead crinkles, and I can tell, my request has surprised her. “Okay, but that seems like something I should say. Not you.”
