Page 54 of Love on the Vine
Heat gathered low in my abdomen as I closed my eyes and focused on the warm breeze on my skin, the coconut scent of the sunscreen, him so solid and male beneath my fingers. I wanted him to turn around and press me down into the hot sand, cover me with his freshly oiled body.
My breath hitched. It was all I could do not to press my lips onto the smooth skin of his back.
“Could you do me?” I asked, scooting next to him.
A group of older German tourists wandered by, the men in tight speedos and the women unselfconsciously topless. I thought of Levi’s advice to go big or go home. Did I have the nerve to do it?
Before my courage faltered, I untied my bikini top. I could feel Jake tense beside me, but when I turned to hand him the sunscreen, his face was impassive except for a slight tic in his jaw, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
I positioned myself in front of him, my back to him. And then it was like everything was in slow motion. I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning as his large, strong fingers roamed over me, tentatively at first, then more boldly, massaging in slow circles over my shoulder blades, my spine, spanning my lower back.
Everywhere he touched I was molten. When his fingers grazed my ribcage, I held my breath and waited for his fingers to keep exploring me.
But his fingers stilled, slid back briefly to my waist, and then disappeared. I wasn’t going to be deterred, however.
Go big or go home, I told myself. Breathing raggedly, I retrieved the sunscreen, sat on my knees so he had a good view and then slowly applied it to my stomach and my breasts in slow strokes. I could feel his eyes on me, but he was still as a stone.
It seemed like an eternity passed and still he didn’t move. I don’t know what I thought would happen. Maybe that finally he wouldn’t be able to resist me, that he’d fling me down on the towel and cover my body with his. But he remained motionless, lying back on one elbow, knees bent; I couldn’t even see if he was having a physical reaction to the show I’d just given him.
I couldn’t face the prospect of being rejected again, so I stood and said, “I’m going for a swim. Are you coming?”
He didn’t answer, just kept staring at me from behind his glasses. Then finally, he shook his head.
I walked down to the water, now completely conscious of the fact that I was half naked on a public beach. No one else seemed to care, though, so neither did I. In fact, it felt liberating.
The water was cool, lapping at my skin in gentle waves as I slowly sank into its aquamarine depths. I swam out past the jutting rocks, then floated, eyes closed as the sun soaked into me. I don’t know how long I stayed in the water, wishing that Jake would come in with me, but when I glanced back at thebeach, he was still laying on the towel watching me. Oh God, had I made things even more awkward between us?
After a while my fingertips began to wrinkle, and I knew that if I stayed in the water much longer, I’d turn into a prune. As I swam toward the shore, my foot scraped against a jagged rock and a sharp pain sluiced through me. Gasping, I reached for my foot while trying to keep my head out of the water. Not an easy task. Water swirled over my head, and I flailed and choked out a cough. The next thing I knew, a pair of strong arms encircled me, lifting my head out of the water.
“Jesus, are you okay?” Jake asked as he held me to him.
I coughed out some water and nodded. “I kicked a rock. I think I broke my toe.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he carried me toward the shore. He kept holding me even when we were out of the water. “I can walk, Jake,” I said, afraid I was too heavy for him.
But he either didn’t hear me or didn’t care because he didn’t let me go until we’d reached our spot under the tree. He set me down carefully on my towel then took my foot in his hand. “Can you move your toe?” I wiggled my toes.
“It’s just a bruise. I don’t think it’s broken.” He held my foot, moving it gently in circles. My breath slowed. “Better now?”
I nodded, unable to break eye contact with him as his hand moved up to massage my ankle, then my calf. God, how could even that simple touch be so erotic? I took a deep breath and leaned back. His eyes dropped to my chest where a fat drop of water rolled down between my breasts.
He closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. Shaking his head, he said, “You’re killing me, Olivia.”
“How so?” I whispered.
“I mean, I’m not made of stone. Christ, look at you. Do you know how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?” he asked softly, but I could hear the longing beneath it.
I let out a ragged breath and drew my foot up the length of his thigh. “What if I want your hands on me?”
His eyes burned into mine, his jaw twitched again, and then, ever so slowly he raised his hand to my face, then ran the pad of his thumb over my lower lip, before sliding his fingers down my neck, my collarbone, as if memorizing me. He traced a feathery path down my sternum, and then finally, dragged his knuckles over my nipple, making me moan with need. He cupped my breast, his thumb circling the tight peak.
“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he whispered and, with excruciating slowness, lowered his head and took my nipple in his lips. The shock of his hot, wet mouth on my cool skin made me gasp. His tongue darting over the sensitive peak sent streaks of pleasure through me straight to my core. I cried out and arched into him as he continued to lick and suck, kissing a path across my chest, his scruff tickling my skin, and turned his attention to my other breast.
“Oh my God, Jake,” I panted as I drew my fingers through his thick hair.
“Is this what you wanted when you decided to flash these tits at me?” he growled before sucking hard on my nipple.
I cried out, pressing him against me. “Yes, yes.”
