I just came harder with Elijah than I have with anyone I’ve ever been with. Twice. And boy does he know his way around the female anatomy. I hate to say it’s the age thing, but the three guys that have gone down on me were clumsy. Hurried, really, because they wanted the reciprocation more than enjoying the act. Elijah never even approached the subject of me sucking his dick.
I curl into his side without thinking, then mentally kick myself. Dude might not be a cuddler, and here I am acting like I expect it. He moves slightly and I think he’s ducking out of the bed until I hear the condom hit the trash can.
He raises an arm, offering for me to tuck into it, and my breathing regulates. He doesn’t mind cuddling, and he’s responsible. Elijah may have ruined sex for me. Now I’m going to have to hunt down older guys for the rest of my life.
“You okay?” His chest rumbles when he talks, vibrating against my face.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I reassure him. “Better than fine.”
His laughter shakes me, the rich booming sound filling the room. “I’m happy the service was satisfactory.”
While we’re cuddling and comfortable, sleeping over wasn’t something I expected or even want. “I should probably head back.”
“Why don’t you stay?” he blurts out, and I pause in my efforts to get out of the bed. “It’s late, and we can talk. Maybe have breakfast.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Positive. Do you have any plans tomorrow?”
“Some reading.” I laugh. “I planned to read on the beach all afternoon, then try out the Jacuzzi at our beach house. No one’s turned it on yet, and we leave in two days.”
“What are you reading right now?” He brushes a strand of hair from my face.
I hesitate before I tell him but decide if he’s had his face in my lady parts, it’s too late to care about judgment. “You can’t judge.”
“Why would I judge you?” He covers his chest in mock horror. “Books are books.”
“I know you liked me because my favorite book is a classic, and there’s a stigma around romance novels.” I watch his face for a hint of disapproval and am happy to find none.
“Nothing wrong with a good romance read. Many of the greatest works are centered around love stories, Remy,” he replies. “How about I go with you tomorrow? We’ll pack a picnic lunch, I’ll bring my book, and we’ll make a day of it.”
The ease with which he refers to us as a “we” makes me lightheaded, but I nod in agreement. “I’ll have to stop by the beach house and grab my swimsuit and stuff in the morning.”
He jerks his head toward me, eyes widened. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea after all.”
Giggling, I poke him in the chest. “Afraid of the water?”
“No, I remember that swimsuit. I’m afraid of drowning in you.”
The next morning, to Elijah’s dismay, I tell him to meet me at the beach. I’d rather not explain my fling to my mom and Alex, so it just makes everything easier if he grabs the snacks and I run home for my book and to change.
“Remy.” My mom greets me from the sofa as I enter the beach house. “How was your night?”
She doesn’t look up from her tablet as she talks; that’s how I know she’s not truly invested in the conversation. “It’s been great, Mom. I’m going to go read on the beach for a bit now.”
“Fantastic, darling. Listen, we have a dinner tonight with a few of your father’s colleagues. Won’t you come along and keep Mama company?”
“Can’t, Mom. I’m busy,” I toss over my shoulder as I head upstairs to change. The murmur of her voice follows me, but I can’t make out what she’s saying as I rifle through my swimsuits.
Deciding to dress for comfort rather than enticement, I grab a tankini—a modest top with boy short bottoms. Lia talked me into posting an enticing photo, but I’m a girl who dresses for comfort and sensibility. The one-piece with the sides cut out rides up my ass; I don’t want to be pulling my swimsuit out all day in front of Elijah.
“Did you hear me, darling?” Mom is waiting at the foot of the stairs, her tablet noticeably absent from her hands. “I would really like you to come to the event with me. Can’t you reschedule your plans?”
She finally puts the tablet down when I can’t do what she wants. Well, that’s good to know.
I’m not changing my plans, though. I have two days before we leave, and I’m cramming in as much Elijah that I can—figuratively and literally, if he’s up for it.
“No, Mom. I can’t.” I give her the same wane smile I’ve seen a million times, including before she canceled our trip, and head out, slamming the door behind me.
As I make my way down the beach, eyes peeled for Elijah, it hits me maybe I am spoiled. Oh, poor Remy, your European tour was delayed. That’s not the point, though. Mom is always changing something; it’s been that way since Alex came along. Dinners, missing school programs, forgetting my birthday… It’s not the event itself, but the fact that I’m never her priority.
Elijah and I agreed to meet a few yards down from the beach house, and there he is, a small sand table laid out with snacks. He’s already grabbed two of the rental chairs from the lifeguard and set them up for us. He’s lounging in one of them and I greet him with a kiss on the cheek.
“Aren’t you a charming host,” I say as I set my beach bag next to the empty chair and slide into the seat. Will it be awkward to be around him now? He seems perfectly at ease, head tipped back to enjoy the sunshine and sunglasses perched on his nose. His skin shines in the sun and the aroma of sunblock emanates from him.
“Oh, shit. I forgot my sunblock.” I grab my bag and dig around just in case I’m mistaken. “Five books, headphones, a portable charger for my phone, and no sunblock.”
“I have some.” Elijah pushes his sunglasses up on his head, reaching to his other side for the bottle lying in the sand. “Turn around. I’ll lather you up.”
I obey, and he flips the cap open and begins massaging the cool liquid on my shoulders, talking to me easily. “You seem tense,” he says. “Everything okay?”
“My mom.” My invisible walls lower under his calming pressure, his fingertips relieving the tension in my muscles. “She wanted me to come with her to dinner tonight.”
“Do you want to go?” His breath tickles the nape of my neck as he presses a kiss on my hairline. I hear the bottle squeeze again, and his hands begin rubbing my lower back.
“No. She never cares about things that are important to me, why should I? She’ll be fine. It’s another penguin-suit dinner they’ll come home drunk from, and I’ll have to clean their messes up in the morning.” An image of our messy beach house infiltrates my mind. I shake my head. “I deserve to have fun. I’m not her mother.”
“Turn around,” he commands, and I spin to face him. He rubs my chest, then covers my stomach before gently swiping my cheeks and forehead. His eyes focus on mine the whole time his hands caress my skin, the intimacy nearly overwhelming me. He truly handles me with care.
“Well, then you should have fun,” he agrees, hands dropping to mine. “Let’s eat.” He hands me a towel, then grabs one for himself, and he wipes the sunblock from his hands before we dig in.