I shake my head. “It’s been a while for me and I want to do this the right way. I haven’t done anything right lately and if this is my new start, I want to do right by you.” And to serve my sense of self preservation, let’s be honest. “Can we take it slow?” Even as I ask the question, my dick is calling her name—taunting me by revealing I’d love to do anything except take it slow right now. On the floor. Or the coffee table. Over the back of the couch? Nah, I want to look at her face the whole time. Missionary on the couch. Yes, that would work. I could sit on the coffee table and she could ride me. Goddamn, the thoughts. The desire. “Okay?” I ask.
She smiles. “Okay. But if it’s on my account, it shouldn’t be. I’ll be okay. I know most girlfriends do things.”
That gets my thoughts off her pussy and ass. “Things?” I ask, smiling wide. “Sometimes you say things that make me question if your sexual knowledge extends to the ninth-grade health class video. Don’t take that the wrong way, Caroline, but you’re an adult. You can say things like…” I pause, for effect, and to watch her face change, and say, “Fucking. Blow jobs. Eating pussy. Finger fucking. Hand jobs,” I say each word with emphasis and her breathing speeds. She’s taking in every damn syllable like I’m speaking the gospel on Sunday morning. She steps away from me, and I’m granted a view of a blushing, hot and bothered Caroline May. “Condom,” I say, biting my bottom lip. “Dick. Inside. You. Licking. Tasting. Wet. Screaming.” My eyes narrowed, and my heartrate racing, I go on, stepping toward her, “Kissing.” I lower my head and brush my lips on her exposed shoulder. Swallowing hard, she shudders against me. She clutches me and instead of acknowledging the sexual tension I’ve so graciously extended, we start swaying to a love song. She sighs as I fold her into my body. Leaning over I press a kiss under her ear. “You’re allowed,” I say again, reminding her of everything I said that affected her so greatly. “Remember that.”
Pulling away, she swallows hard. “If we’re going to take it slow, you should probably go home now.”
Unsurprised, yet disappointed, I respond, “Yeah?”
“I want every single thing you just said. Right now.”
It’s my turn to swallow. “Good,” I reply, releasing horny, and unpredictable Caroline from my arms. I dreamt of what she would look like, and like usual, she’s overachieving.
“If I took this dress off right now. Would you,” Caroline drawls, keeping her gaze aimed at mine. “Fuck me?”
The air leaves me body in a whoosh out of my mouth and I know I need to get the fuck out of here as soon as humanly possible. Her confidence doesn’t last long, her gaze darting to the floor. With a finger, I bring her face up to look at me. “I would fuck the shit out of you,” I promise. “But that wouldn’t be a good idea during this moment in time. I’ll go home instead.”
She nods, crestfallen.
“And jack off thinking about you in that white fucking dress.” She crosses one foot over the other, and pulls at the sides of the said piece of clothing. It’s like all my favorite parts of a woman came together and said, “Let’s make a textbook woman for Tyler Holiday. We’ll make her so perfect, he can’t fuck her for fear of falling, though.”
A small smile appears on her face, on top of the layers of complication. “Definition accepted. Let me know when it’s an appropriate time to…fuck.”
The way she saysfuckbrings me to my knees. Literally. I kneel in her living room, in front of her, dragging both hands through my hair. Caroline laughs that damn, hypnotizing laugh.
Chapter Eight
Caroline
I’m literally counting down the minutes until my shift at the diner ends. I’ve never been this antsy before. I’ve never had something this big to look forward to. For the most part, my life has been a well-orchestrated symphony of scheduled and met expectations. Tahoe is the wild card. He turned last night into something that felt like a pivotal moment I couldn’t go back from. I don’t want to go back from it. Aside from kissing my shoulder and my ear, there was no other physically sexual touches, but his words, our words, had sex simmered in every single syllable. My body is now a lit match, waiting for the explosion.
I’m kneeling on a booth, a wet soapy rag in my hand, when Caleb comes over. He has his white, grimy apron tossed over his shoulder. By the way he’s been glaring, and slamming pans around during our shift, I know whatever he’s here to say isn’t going to be pleasant. “Word on the street is that you’re dating that dude,” Caleb growls. “Whit said he’s a dick.” Way to blame someone else for your own thoughts. Small town tricks for 200, Alex.
I sigh, get the last of the table clean and climb out of the big pleather seat. “Does it really matter what Whit thinks, Caleb? The better question is do you think I care?”
“Everyone cares what people think of them.”
I shrug, and ball up the dirty rag. “Maybe I’m done playing by these rules. You know I was never going to end up with a Bronze Bay boy.” I regret my word choice the second I say it, but for once I’m speaking honestly. When you know what your city looks like from 10,000 feet in the air, you understand how much more to the world there is. Since the first time my daddy took me up in my favorite yellow plane, I wanted more—everything, anything the eye could see. It’s why I became a pilot instead of going to college. I love Bronze Bay, but I know there’s more out there. Leaving it has never been on my list, but neither has settling for someone who doesn’t know what’s out there.
Caleb scoffs. “Now your own kind ain’t even good enough for you? You better be careful. These Bronze Bay Buffoons are the ones who are going to be here long after those assholes blow out of town. They never stay anywhere long. We’re here always. Al-ways.”
Narrowing my eyes, I reply, “How do you know that? Tahoe says this is his permanent base. The attacks changed everything, Caleb. Whatever you thought you knew about SEALs isn’t true anymore. Don’t worry about me,” I say, softening my tone. “I’ll be fine. He’s not like he seems. I appreciate your concern, but I have to ask, why do you care? Because I turned you down?”
He laughs, a sadistic, mean cackle. “You think your shit don’t stink now that you got some steroid filled monster tearing open that pussy every night? Get over yourself. I was only ever nice to you because I felt bad for you. And your mom. You’re a fucking spinster. You’ll be a spinster again when hedoesleave. Mark my words.”
My blood pulses through my ears and my skin turns a shade of red reserved for true, blue fury. The last time it happened I was twenty and I’d been working on a section of airplane siding for weeks, without my father’s help. On accident, I snapped off a piece that couldn’t easily be replaced. Facing Caleb, I try to keep my shoulders back. To let him see what his words do to me would be criminal. “You don’t have to be so rude. I was only trying to explain why I…I never really fit in. You know as well as I do, that I’m not like the rest of the women here,” I say. I’m giving him grace by not tearing into him like I want to. My jaw clenched, I continue, “Not that it’s your business or anyone else’s, but I’m not sleeping with him. I’m not sure that’s even what you meant by those nasty words.”
Caleb has the good sense to look a little mortified. The high road will do that to people, you know? You can use it as a weapon if you’re skilled enough—the low road seems more seedy when juxtaposed with the high road. He clears his throat and looks past me, out the window. Shaking his head, he growls, “You’re pissing off a lot of people. Know your place, Caroline. That’s all I’m saying.”
When I don’t respond, he clocks out, and lets the back-door slam on his way out. I wince a little, mostly because the thought of people being upset with me, does affect me even if it shouldn’t. Caleb’s words strike a vulnerability inside me. This is my home. These are my people. Sure, everyone is upset with the SEALs for taking our beaches and changing our way of life, but am I wrong to find happiness in the midst of a bad situation?
“I saw Caleb on his way out,” Mama says, locking the front door, and clicking off the open sign. The diner closes early on Sunday. Mama has always said it’s important for us to be together as a family at least one day a week. Even if I think it’s a bad business decision, growing up, I always loved Sundays because of it.
Swallowing hard, I ask, “Did you hear that conversation?”
Sighing, she walks toward me. “No. I assume it’s a conversation you’ve been expecting, no?”
My mother, the kindest woman in the whole wide world has eyes that can make you feel like you’re worth a billion dollars. She sees the good inside of everyone, but especially me. When she looks at people, people notice, they feel comfort, and self-worth, and it’s a God given gift. I think it’s why the diner has always been so successful. You can get a slice of delicious pie and validation for breathing all in one location. I don’t want her to see me right now. “Caroline, look at me baby.” Her soft hands catch mine.
