Текст книги "Kiss Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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I pace the length of the car.

His voice booms in my ear. “What the hell were you thinking going there? All the work we did to get you somewhere safe and you go see Brooklyn at a publicized event?”

“I thought it would be okay. I never thought he would fly all the way to New York.”

“Do you believe me now? Do you fucking believe that you can never let your guard down again? Do you now believe me when I said your life as you knew it is over?”

I start bawling and lean against the window Vincent punched. “Yes, I believe you. I’m sorry.”

“None of this will work if you don’t make it work.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“No. No sorries. I want you to think about what could have happened to you there. I want you to think about what Vincent wants to do to you. Are those pleasant thoughts?”

I sob. “No.”

“Good. Remember them next time you think about doing something stupid like this. Let’s get you back to school.”

“I’m going to the Hamptons. Some friends from school have a house there. I’ll be safe. It’s my new life. I swear, Garrett, I’m trying. I really am.”

Garrett calms down. I hear him take a deep breath.

“Please don’t tell my mom or James or Tommy. Promise me?”

“I’m putting you on hold. Don’t hang up.”

“Okay.”

I wait on hold for a few minutes. A text from the spa pops up with an address.

Garrett clicks back on. “I want you to get the driver to take you to the address that was just sent to you. Do not, under any circumstances, tell him where you are going next. Do you understand?”

“I understand. What is at the address?”

“A helicopter. I’m getting you the fuck to the Hamptons and fast.”

I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“As for telling your family, I will keep quiet if you promise to never do something so stupid again.”

“I got it.”

His voice softens. “Are you okay?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” I start to cry again and stutter out, “I went . . . to . . . to . . . see Brooklyn . . . and he . . . hooked up with a girl . . . in a cabana . . . while I was there.”

“Damn. That’s not cool.”

“I know. You’ll make sure he’s safe though, right? As much as I’d like to kill him right now, I don’t really want anyone else to hurt him.”

“They said he’s out surfing. He’s fine. Right now I want you to tell your driver to take you to the address. Remember not to tell him where you are going. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I get back in the car, give him the address, and try to compose myself.

Then I call Dawson.

He answers, “Hey,” in his sexy voice.

“Hey, so I was thinking about heading your way.” I try to sound happy. I try not to cry.

“Already?”

Already? Is he not ready for me to come? Does he not want me to come?

“Uh, well, I mean, if you still want me.”

“Oh, I want you,” he teases.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah I do, and I’m pumped! I didn’t think you would be able to come so soon. We’re gonna have some serious fun. Oh, wait, what happened with the guy? You okay?”

“Let’s just say that he and I are very finished.”

“What happened?”

“Basically, he’s an idiot. No, wait, I’m the idiot. I’ll tell you about it later. After you’ve made me one of those amazing drinks you’ve been bragging about.”

“I’m sorry if he hurt you. I know how that feels. But still, I’m excited and can’t wait to see you. It’ll probably take you, what, at least a couple of hours with the weekend traffic?”

I smile thinking about the helicopter. “I might be there a little sooner than that.”

I just gave you goosebumps.

2pm

He’s waiting for me outside a huge, rambling colonial mansion.

A different driver drops my bags. Dawson grabs them and leads me into the gorgeous house.

“So um, lots of people showed up, so, um . . .”

He’s acting funny.

“What? Why are you all nervous? Do you have an old girlfriend here or something? Oh, no. Is Whitney here?!”

“No. Hell, no.” He shakes his head at me. “What I was gonna say—well, ask—is if it’s okay if we bunk up together. I wanted you to have the master bedroom. It’s the nicest room in the house. But then some extra people showed up and all the beds and couches are full.”

“So I’ll be sleeping with you?” I tease.

“Yeah, but, I mean, there's a couch in there. I can sleep on it if it’s okay with you. It’d sure be more comfortable than the floor.”

I smile at him. He’s seriously so sweet.

“Okay.”

I follow him into the master bedroom. I've stayed at some incredible five-star resorts, on yachts, and our Malibu house was photographed for Architectural Digest, but this room is stunning. Huge colonial four-poster bed. Sweeping ocean views. Private deck out a multitude of French doors, which are open, causing the gauzy white sheers to flutter in the breeze.

“Wow. This room is beautiful. I may never leave.”

He gives me a sexy smile, drops my bags onto the floor, takes my purse off my shoulder, then peels off my gauzy white shirt.

He drops it on the bed and stands back, scrutinizing every inch of my bikini clad body.

All he manages to mutter before he kisses me is, “Damn.”

We kiss for a bit and then he says, “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

The rest of the house, the view, the grounds, are almost as breathtaking as the bedroom. As we walk through the big white kitchen, he says, “Ready for the Kool-Aid?”

He pours me a glass and I take a drink.

“This is just Kool-Aid. I thought you said it was special? Like had alcohol in it. Or is it too early?”

“On the beach, it’s never to early. And you’re not supposed to taste the alcohol. It takes skill to mix it properly. My older brother, Cam, and I invented it last summer and perfected it this summer. Our parents have tasted it and don’t know it’s loaded with alcohol. Well, they do now, cuz we got them drunk on it one night.”

We walk out to the pool, drinks in hand, and he introduces me to everyone I don't know, and I say hey to the ones I do. Riley, Dallas, Tyrese, and Ace. The rest are a combination of their cousins, school friends, and old friends.

“I didn’t sign up for a sausage fest,” Tyrese says. “Let's hit the beach.”

Besides me, there are only two girls in the group.

 Ace agrees. “We need to take a bunch of that get-drunk-and-screw punch with us.”

“Naw,” Riley says, “that's not how it’s done. You bring them back here and then let them drink the Kool-Aid. But we can take some for ourselves.”

Dawson gives me a piggyback ride down to the beach.

And wow. He's so tall and strong. Cush used to give me piggyback rides, but I sometimes felt like I was as big as him. I feel small compared to Dawson, and I love that. I throw my arms around him and snuggle into his neck.

Dawson is lying on his side in the sand next to me. I just finished telling him all about my failed reunion with Brooklyn. Although I did leave out the part about Vincent being there. About being scared to death. About getting chewed out by Garrett. And I must be a pretty good actress because I’ve been able to make him think I’m just mad at Brooklyn and that’s all that has me upset.

“Wow, that's pretty low,” he says. “Especially since he wanted you to spend the weekend. It’s, like, fucked up.”

“Sounds like something your brother would do.” I watch Riley out by the water talking to three very pretty girls. “Does he know those girls?”

“Heck, I don't know.”

“Wait! This is your whoredom, isn't it? Wow, do all the girls know you?”

He looks embarrassed. Actually blushes.

“Some. Honestly, most of the times I hooked up this summer I was pretty drunk. The whole summer’s sorta a blur.”

“So did your brother, Cam, participate in the whoredom?”

“Ha. Yeah. He’s just like Riley. I’m shocked he’s not here, but he’s got some party at school he didn’t want to miss. Which means he’s hot for some chick and hasn’t gotten her yet. He always told me I shouldn’t have a girlfriend unless I was having sex all the time. Which, well, I wasn’t.” He’s quiet for a minute then grins at me. “Did I tell you how much I like this bikini?” He plays with one of the strings.

“Um, no, I don't think you did.”

He runs a single sandy finger down my arm and even in the blazing sun, my body does a little shiver.

He notices and grins.

“I just gave you goosebumps. It’s hot out.”

“I got a chill—ocean breeze, you know.” I roll my eyes, bite my lip, and try not to smile.

“You’re lying.” He grazes his thumb across my bottom lip. Stares at me with those adorable brown eyes. “I think you look ridiculously hot in your dance uniform, so I don’t know why I was so surprised by how amazing you look in a bikini. It took all my willpower not to undo these strings,” he touches the string on one side of my bikini bottoms, “in the bedroom, not come out for days.”

I giggle. “I thought you had to take me back to the house and feed me some Kool-Aid first?” I take a drink of punch and smirk at him.

He squints his eyes at me.

“I have to give you some shit. I can’t help it.”

His face gets serious. “That's not how I want it to be with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing, but for most of the sex I've had, at least one of us, and usually both of us, have been drunk. Even Whitney, she never really wanted me unless she was messed up.” He lazily plays with a strand of my hair. “When we do it, if we do it, whenever that is, I don’t want us to be drunk.”

“Dawson.”

“Yeah.”

“I wanted you to take off my bikini in the bedroom, and I hadn't had a single drink.”

He stares at me for a couple beats then rolls on top of me and pushes his mouth onto mine. I part my lips in surprise, mostly at the force of his kiss. Up until now our kisses have been sweet, safe kisses. Friendly kisses.

This is not a friendly kiss. This kiss is full of desire. He grabs my tongue with his, sucking it into his mouth forcefully. He sucks on it greedily. Like it’s his to own.

He slides a hand into my hair and pulls my head closer to his. As close as I can get.

I wrestle my tongue away from him and slowly tease his lips with it. Then I grab the back of his head, sucking his tongue into my mouth with equal force.

I can't stop a little moan from escaping.

I rake my other hand down his back, settling on the back of his board shorts and kneading my fingers into them.

“Ahhh!” we both scream out when cold water splashes down across Dawson’s back.

He rolls off me saying, “What the f—” and sees Riley standing there, holding an empty sand bucket.

Riley says, “Jeez, Dawes, you’re gonna get us fined for indecency. Thought you needed some cooling off. Besides, that girl needs to show us her surfing skills.”

Dawson gets up and chases Riley down the beach and into the water, where they have a shoving match. Dawson gets Riley in a headlock and dunks him. Then Riley kicks Dawson’s feet out from under him and they both go down into the water.

They’re laughing as they run up the beach.

“Wish me luck,” I tell Dawson as I jog by him with a surfboard.

Riley and Ace grab boards and paddle out with me. Riley paddles out to a small wave, catches it, stands up, goes about twenty feet, then crashes.

Ace takes the next one and doesn’t even get to a standing position before he bites it.

I wait out three more waves, there's a slightly bigger one building.

I ride it, easily carving back and forth through the water, and take it all the way until the board glides up on the beach.

Dawson grabs me, runs his hands down the back of my swimsuit, and kisses me. “That was amazing.”

“That wave was like the bunny hill you learn to ski on.”

“It knocked my brother down.”

“Yeah, well his foot placement’s all wrong, and he's leaning too far forward.”

“Don't tell him that. I love to see him crash and burn. Makes for great videos.”

A couple hours later the punch we brought is gone. Everyone’s tipsy and worn out. We decide to go back to the house, where we chow down on sandwiches.

After we eat, I tell Dawson, “I'm kinda tired.”

Actually, I’m exhausted.

Emotionally exhausted.

“You need to come with me then,” he says with a grin, as he leads me into the bedroom then out a set of French doors to a screened-in porch with a big, padded hammock blowing in the breeze. “Best place in the house for a nap.”

We snuggle up together in the hammock and I immediately fall asleep.

I'm awakened by his stirring. My face is right by his neck, so I kiss it. Other than my giving him a single kiss at the football game, I really haven't initiated stuff with him. I've been letting him kiss me. But after his comment, his feeling like Whitney didn’t really want him, I figure he needs to feel wanted, so I kiss up his neck and toss my leg across his.

He laughs. “You realize we just slept together.”

“Yeah, I guess we did. Shh . . . don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

He runs his hand like he did in the picture, gently pulling my hair off my face. “I think you need to keep doing that,” he says, pulling me fully on top of him. I kiss gently down his neck, then kiss a little harder, then softer. I’m sorta teasing him and it seems to be driving him nuts.

I sit up, my knees straddling him, and kiss down his chest, then run my hands in a little tickle down his sides.

He laughs and squirms a bit, but I can feel that other parts of his body have just jumped to attention.

He goes, “Mhhm,” then grabs me, and tries to flip me over. He apparently wants on top of me, but uh, yeah, I think he maybe forgot we’re in a hammock because he rolls up over the side of it. The hammock flips. He falls onto the floor on his back, and I land right on top of him.

“Shit,” he mutters, but then laughs. “Real smooth, huh?”

I reply with a deep slow kiss.

Then he flips me over, pinning me against the rug under his weight. He kisses my neck and down my chest. He unties my bikini top, takes in what he sees, kisses what he saw. My body is responding, enjoying everything he does to me. He maneuvers himself between my legs and rocks his hips against mine.

I’m hot and, honestly, I am a bit shocked at how much I want him.

But we can’t. I cannot. We said we were going to take it slow. And this, wonderful though it may be, is not moving slow.

“Dawson,” I manage to breathe out.

“Hmm?” He smiles at me and kisses my nose.

“I thought we were gonna take things slow?”

“Maybe we should rethink that.”

God, he's dreamy.

I squint my eyes at him in fake irritation.

He kisses me again, then says, “No, you’re right.”

But what he says and what he does are two entirely different things.

He kisses me deeply again, runs his hands through my hair, then down my back, his hands stopping on my butt and pulling it towards him, making his pelvis slam into mine. His hardness pushes on what little there is of my bikini bottoms.

We keep kissing. Our hips move together like we’re having sex, even though there are two thin layers of fabric between us.

I’m getting extremely worked up. And it’s obvious he is as well.

It feels so damn good that I don’t want to him to stop.

But one of us needs to use our head.

“Dawson.”

“Don't worry. We're not. Not yet anyways.” Then he gets up, snatching his hardness away from me.

I’m left lying on the floor, my body saying, But wait!!!!! My mouth may have been saying no, but my body majorly disagrees. It wants to pull him back down on top of me.

He reaches his hand out and pulls me up as I retie my top. Then he backs away slightly, leans down, and studies my tattoo. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo. Bad girl moment?”

I shake my head. “No, not really.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s the symbol for chaos.”

“Chaos, huh? Interesting. So does that mean you like to cause chaos?”

“No. It’s from a quote. Life is divine chaos.”

“I like it.”

“I used to like it.”

“You don’t now?”

I roll my eyes. “The surfer has a matching one.”

“That’s probably fitting, considering.”

“Yeah, probably.”

We drink a little more, eat a little more, relax a little more.

The punch has officially caught up with me.

We’re both a little tipsy.

Well, I’m maybe kinda drunk.

I’m also feeling a little naughty.

I drag him back to the bedroom and start attacking him.

I kiss him, take off his polo, undo his shorts, and slide them off him.

He stops me from untying my bikini.

“Keatyn, we talked about this. We’re not gonna do stuff when we’re drunk. We’ll wait.”

I laugh at him. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

But then I give him a devilish grin, drop down on my knees in front of him, and look up at him in question.

His face breaks out in a huge grin. “Oh. Uh, well, that’d probably be okay.”

Sunday, September 4th

So, um, about last night.

Too fucking early.

Wake up to sunlight streaming in the windows. Look at the clock. It’s freaking sunrise-early.

I feel a bit fuzzy, confused about where I am, and thirsty. I look down and see I slept in my bikini.

Dawson walks out of the bathroom, wearing only board shorts, and that dark, gorgeous body of his is looking sexier than ever. While Riley only has a four pack, Dawson’s got a full six. Almost eight, if that’s even possible. His chest is totally ripped. And quite yummy.

“So, the early bird gets the surf. Us guys always go out and try to surf at sunrise, then we come back and eat a huge-ass breakfast. Come with us. Or do you want to sleep some more? The girls always sleep in.”

“I slept in my swimsuit?”

He sits on the bed next to me and grins. “Yeah. You remember last night? You were pretty tipsy, maybe drunk. I don’t know. I haven’t drunk with you enough yet to be sure. You were kinda naughty though. Do you remember that part?”

“Yeah, I do, but then it gets kinda blurry—not because I was drunk, more because I was just so tired. Yesterday was a long day.”

“You were tired. You told me Kool-Aid makes you sleepy. Then you snuggled up next to me and crashed. Maybe even snored a little.”

“Oh, gosh. That’s embarrassing.”

“Naw, it’s cute. And you’re such a little snuggler.”

“I’m really not a snuggler.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“No, I’m really not. It usually makes me feel kinda claustrophobic.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, all I know is you were glued to my side all night. My right arm’s still numb. So if you wanna go, get dressed and meet us down there okay?”

“Okay.”

I get up, pee, brush my teeth, throw on a different bikini and a rash guard, spf my face, pull my hair back into a ponytail, grab my flip flops, and head down the beach.

They’re just getting the boards down there when I arrive.

We have fun playing around in the surf.

I make Dawson tell Riley what he’s doing wrong. He grudgingly agrees, then looks like a proud parent when Riley rides a wave all the way to shore. He runs over to him, high fives him, and is like, Riles, dude, that was awesome. 

And he wasn’t kidding when he said they come back and eat a big breakfast. I don’t think I’ve seen this much food consumed in one place. Apparently, growing boys can eat a whole freaking lot. Their cook set out plate after plate of bacon, eggs, pancakes, fried potatoes, biscuits, gravy, sausage, and they drank at least three gallons of milk.

I sit there just watching the frenzy.

Riley says to me, “Dude you need to eat more. We need to fatten you up a little.”

Dawson stops lifting the fork to his mouth. “Naw, she looks damn good in a bikini. Perfect, if you ask me.”

And that pretty much made my whole day.

We’re walking over to play tennis when Dawson says, “So, um, about last night.”

“Last night was great. The sunset was amazing, and the partying, and hot tubbing. I’m having so much fun. Thanks for inviting me.”

He kicks his racquet gently with his foot. “Uh, I was sorta referring to after that.”

“After that?” And I’m thinking after that we went to bed. Oh. After that. “Oh. What about it?”

“What about it?” His eyes get big, like I could be so nonchalant about it. “Hands down. The. Hottest. Thing. Ever.”

He’s so cute, and so excited about this. You’d think we were talking about cars or Xbox or something. But what did Grandpa’s ranch hand say about boys? They have two moods, hungry and horny. So if you see a boy without an erection, you should go make him a sandwich. That made Grandpa laugh, and Grandma say, Keatyn, don’t you dare listen to them. You tell them to make their own damn sandwiches.

I say, “Really?”

He suppresses a big smile. “You. Down on your knees. Uh, yeah.”

I’m pretty surprised by this, considering his summer in whoredom.

“Hmm. Well, good. Does that mean it’d be okay if I wanted to get down on my knees again sometime?”

Dallas walks up behind me. “And just what are you going to do down on your knees, Kiki?”

“Look for seashells, what else?” I sass back.

Dawson chokes down his Kool-Aid laughing, but as soon as Dallas walks away, I have to ask. “I don’t get why it was so hot. I mean, I’ve heard about your summer.”

“It was just different. I actually like you. I didn’t ask you to, and it was a surprise.”

“And you like being surprised?”

“Like that? Hell, yeah.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” I say with a smirk, my mind going to naughty places it should so not be going. But Dawson’s hair is blowing in the breeze and his mouth is curled into a very sexy grin. Plus he smells like cocoa butter and the ocean. Which reminds me of home. And Brooklyn. “You know, I can see now why my mom says you have to date different people, so you know what’s good and bad in a relationship. Like you said, you worshiped Whitney, then dated her. Same with me. I crushed on the Keats guy. I did stuff with him because I wanted to make him like me. This feels different. I feel like we like each other.”

He grabs my hand. “I do like you. And you’re right, we both thought our past relationships were so amazing.”

“And they weren’t, really, were they?”

“No, not really. I’ve been sorta kicking myself for spending so much time whining about me and Whitney breaking up. Now I feel stupid because I see everyone was right, and I’ve been kind of a jerk to everyone lately.”

I smile. “Not to me. Well, except for the worst kiss ever.”

I sit down on a bench next to the tennis court and admire a container full of pink tea roses. “These are so gorgeous,” I say, leaning down to smell them.

Dawson sits down next to me and says, “So, Keatie . . .”

“Keatie?”

“Yep. That’s what I’m gonna call you. A combination of cutie and Keatyn. You’re my little Keatie.”

I smile at him.

Ohmigawd! Is that not just the most adorable thing ever?

“It’s cute.”

“No, you’re cute.”

He gives me a sweet kiss then pulls me up and says, “Ready to play some tennis?”

“Sure, but you’re gonna lose.”

His hormones kick into overdrive.

11pm

After dinner, everyone sits outside, chatting and drinking.

We watch the sun go down from the side deck and at that moment, while I am wrapped tightly in Dawson’s strong arms, I have a flash of clarity.

It all feels so right, and I decide that I will be quite content without a surfer, a player, or a Hottie God in my life.

We move the party back to the pool/hot tub area, turn the music up, dance around, and have fun.

Dawson says to me, “Be right back. I’m gonna grab a couple more beers.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have any more.”

“Why not? I’m not drunk or anything. Are you feeling it?”

“I’m feeling it, but I’m just maybe a little tipsy. I feel perfect.”

“Okay?” He gives me a questioning look.

“I was kinda thinking that I’d like to not get—um, remember how we said if we do stuff that we didn’t want to only because we’re drunk?”

He beams. “So, you’re thinking us about doing stuff?” I can tell he is quite excited by this prospect.

“I wanna do some stuff. Don’t you?”

He kisses me. “Are you kidding me? It’s all I’ve thought about all day.” He stares at me for a second and figures he better not waste his opportunity. “You know, I’ve had about enough of the outdoors for one day, how about you?”

He tells everyone we’re tired and drags me into the house.

Then I think his hormones kick into overdrive.

He kisses me, like, fast, hard, long, intensely deep kisses. He pushes me up against the counter in the kitchen, holding my hips tightly in his hands. He kisses hard down my neck and then strips off my shirt and tosses it on the floor.

Then he walks me backward through the house while still kissing me, quickly working his way back to the bedroom. He pushes me against a wall in the hallway, where he pulls his own shirt off, then unties my bikini top, his warm, naked chest pressing against me as he shoves his tongue deeply into my mouth. I suck on it recklessly.

We finally get to the bedroom, where he quickly shuts and locks the door, then pushes me up against it. He’s kissing me and, like, ravishing me. I feel like I’m living a hot romance novel. And this is the kind of thing I have always pictured.

Always dreamed of.

A boy who wants me so bad he can barely stand it.

A boy who pushes me hard against the door and kisses me like he means it. A boy who takes my wrists and holds them above my head, pinning me to the door as he sucks his way down my chest. A boy who kisses me so deeply it makes my head spin. A boy whose one free hand feels like ten because it is everywhere on my body.

It was nothing like this with Brooklyn. And nothing like this with Cush. If Cush was hot, then Dawson is molten lava hot. Molten lava that seems to be rolling through every part of me.

We frantically finish undressing each other.

Kissing. Hugging. Sucking. Breathing.

At this point, I think my hormones kick in too, and honestly I’m thinking, Just do me, keep going, don’t stop. I’ve never felt such desire in my life.

But just when I’m ready to speed things up, he decides to slow them down.

He’s wearing nothing and all that’s protecting my virtue is my little bikini bottoms.

He kisses me more slowly now, but somehow his slow kisses are still very intense. Like he’s tasting me. His lips feel like fire on my skin. And I know only one thing is going to put out the fire burning inside me.

He kisses my shoulder, my chest, my stomach, and then slowly strips away what little clothing is left on me. With his teeth.

I can’t even tell you how hot I am.

Especially now that he’s back to a full-scale assault on my body.

He’s kissing, touching, rubbing, licking, well, everything.

Everywhere.

And it feels very, very good.

I feel like he’s standing outside my front door, knocking on it. No. Make that ringing the doorbell, repeatedly. RING. RING. RING! And I want to invite him in. I really want to. My body is definitely in agreement with me on this. My body has been pleading its case, begging, Please, please, can he please come in and play? Be our new friend and make us feel incredible? But my brain is arguing back, saying, You have only known him for a week. You want to let this virtual stranger in? Shouldn’t you be in love with him? What if you get pregnant? What if he’s just using you? What if this ruins everything?

Then my body yells at my brain and says, Shut up! Seriously, shut up! I don’t freaking care if he’s using us. I want him NOW! Freaking, right now!!! 

My body wins this round. My brain shuts up for a bit and lets us feel.

He moves between my legs and, oh, gosh, what he’s doing feels pretty amazing, and pretty soon I’m trembling and breathing hard with pleasure.

And I really don’t think I can take much more.

My body is screaming, OMFFFFFGGGG! LET THIS BOY IN, NOW!

I say breathlessly, “Dawson . . .”

He stops and looks at me, tilts his head in question.

I bite my lip and give my head a little nod.

A barely perceptible teeny little yes nod.

And invite him in.