Crash Into Me (43 page)

James’
reaction to his mother’s death reminded Ben of that feeling, one he still
wasn’t comfortable reliving.

After
a long while, eyes burning and throat raw, hands buried deep in damp sand, he
came to grips with himself. And had some kind of epiphany. Leaving his home,
abandoning his profession, denying what his soul needed to carry on…it was
wrong.

He
wanted to stay in the house he’d loved Olivia in. That Carly had grown up in.
His wife may have been taken from him, but no one could steal his home, his
past, his memories.

Ben
remembered staring out at Windansea Beach and noticing the wave conditions for
the first time since Olivia died. He didn’t go back to the ocean that day, but
he knew without a doubt it was where he belonged. He’d always known.

Surfing
had been his downfall and his salvation.

Looking
out at the same scene today, standing in front of the sliding glass doors in
his upstairs bedroom, he still felt the same way.

He’d
made some major changes over the past three years, to his house and to himself.
He’d had a security system installed. The bedroom and master bath had been
remodeled because they reminded him too much of Olivia, but the west-facing
wall remained the same.

Open
to the ocean. Visible from the beach.

He
rarely bothered to close the heavy curtains. He liked the view. It was one of
the main reasons he’d bought the house.

Now
he couldn’t help but think someone had been looking
in.

James was having trouble driving. He’d
taken the bandage off his hand, and the swelling had gone down, so his injury
wasn’t bothering him. The problem was that every time he shifted gears, the
back of his right arm brushed Carly’s left breast, and he had a sneaking suspicion
she wasn’t wearing a bra.

She
was squashed between him and Stephen, straddling the gearshift console because
the pickup truck had a narrow bench seat. When he put the truck in reverse, to
back out of her driveway, he practically had to place the stick right up
against her crotch.

He
glanced across the cab at Stephen, who only smirked and pulled his hat down
over his eyes, slouching in his seat like Arlen had.

Thankfully,
it was a short trip from Carly’s house to the harbor. James parked in the free
lot, like always, although it was a half mile from there to the dock. They
walked the distance in silence, the sound of their footsteps absorbed by the
wooden planks on the causeway.

After
they boarded
Destiny
James took her all the way around San Diego Bay. It
was a glorious, sunny afternoon, and there were plenty of other day-trippers
milling about, but he noticed very little about the weather or the sea, other
than those details necessary to navigate. He was torn between fuzzy-edged
memories of his mother—patched together and soft from use, like a faded
quilt—and the vibrant temptation of Carly Fortune in the flesh.

They
went to Crystal Cove, his mother’s favorite place, to spread the ashes. For a
split second, he was struck by a memory of the nightmare he’d had a week ago,
and he imagined that he saw a dark, ominous shape swimming underwater. When he
blinked, it was gone, and there was just Carly, holding his hand.

“You
do it,” he said, transferring the urn to Stephen. “You’ve got more experience
with ashes.”

Stephen
smiled around his cigarette, although the joke wasn’t worth it.

Before
he took off the lid, Carly placed a kiss on the top of the urn, and a few of
her tears splashed there, too. James and Stephen followed her lead, kissing the
urn as if it were their mother’s golden cheek. When it was time, Stephen
overturned its contents, and they watched the ocean absorb what was left of
Gabrielle Matthews.

Stephen
put his arm around James’ shoulders, and Carly pressed her face into the front
of his shirt. James just held her, stroking his hand down her back, watching
the sun dip toward the horizon and feeling the comforting lean of his brother
beside him.

“Why
don’t you let me out at the wharf?” Stephen suggested. “I’ll catch up with you
guys later.”

Stephen’s
intention was probably to give James some time alone with Carly, but he may
also have been thinking about getting high. It hadn’t escaped James’ attention
that Stephen had been clean lately, and struggling to stay that way. If he was
looking to score a bag of dope, it would be an easy enough task at America’s
Cup Harbor.

Hoping
to find his brother sober, and safe, when they returned, James dropped him off
at the closest dock and said good-bye.

“Let’s
not go back just yet,” Carly murmured, her lips against his neck. They had
about an hour before sunset, and James knew of many private hideaways where
they could be alone.

He
also knew what would happen if they were.

Telling
himself he could always keep going, that they didn’t have to stop, he took them
on another loop around the bay. Of course, they found the perfect spot, hidden
in a rocky, sun-drenched cove, so he lowered anchor and brought an old,
scratchy blanket out from belowdecks. They sat together for a while, watching
the sun dip low on the horizon and letting the gentle pitch and sway of the
waves lull them into a drowsy sensual reverie.

James
wasn’t sure if he reached for her first, or if she started touching him. It
just seemed as though one moment they were holding hands, side by side, the
next they were holding each other. When he kissed her, he felt her lips
tremble. His hand slipped under her T-shirt and she moaned, arching her back,
giving herself to him.

Most
of the times they’d been together, Carly had been the sexual aggressor. This
time, he couldn’t allow her to bear the brunt of the responsibility for their
actions. He’d known exactly what he was doing when he’d dropped anchor, gone
into the cab to get the blanket, and checked his wallet for the condom he’d
been keeping there.

If
he was going to lay her down on an old wool blanket atop the tar-soaked planks
of
Destiny,
a surface that had seen a hundred thousand gallons of fish
blood, seawater, sweat, and tears, he wasn’t going to pretend it was all her
idea.

“Your
tits have been driving me crazy all day,” he said against her mouth, cupping
their delicate weight in his hands.

“Why?”
she asked.

“I thought
you weren’t wearing a bra. I could see the shape of your nipples.”

She
gasped, because he was tracing their shape now, brushing his thumbs over the
distended tips that were poking against the lacy fabric of her bra.

Emboldened
by his words, she ran her hand up his thigh. In the past, he hadn’t let her
touch him because he’d known his control would disintegrate. Today, he must
have left his control, and his conscience, on the mainland, because he guided
her hand directly to the danger zone and initiated a stage four emergency.

Catching
her bottom lip between her teeth, she squeezed his hardened flesh
experimentally, watching him through half-lidded eyes.

The
pleasure was so intense it almost blinded him.

“James,”
she said, “I want—”

He
stilled her hand. “I know.”

Pulling
her T-shirt over her head, he tossed it aside. She returned the favor, tearing
his shirt in the process, ripping buttons from holes as she pushed it off his
shoulders.

The
top of his head nearly came off with it.

Panting,
she pressed her lips to his, running her hands all over him, exploring the
muscles in his arms and back. He knew he didn’t have the kind of body girls
swooned over, but the way she was touching him made him feel like he did.

“Now,”
she whispered, rolling away from him to kick off her jeans.

With
a low groan, he unzipped his own, and she reached for him, putting her hand
down the front of his pants.

Her
mouth formed a soft O of wonder as she curled her fingers around him.

He
was lost in a visual, sexual trance, mesmerized by her hand, moving up and down
on him; her body, exquisitely revealed by a few triangles of cream-colored
lace; her skin, dusky gold in the waning light; and her lips, soft and moist
and pursed in concentration.

Making
a strangled sound, he thrust his tongue into her mouth again and slid his hand
over her taut belly, into her panties. “Oh, God,” he gasped, feeling her heat.

“What’s
wrong?”

“Uh—”
He was beyond ordinary communication skills. “Carly—”

“Let
me,” she said, and in that moment, he would have allowed her anything. Smiling,
she unclasped her bra and let it fall. Stripped her tiny panties down her slim
hips.

“Oh
my God,” he repeated. Her naked body was the most beautiful thing he’d ever
seen.

“You’d
better have a condom,” she warned.

“Wait,”
he heard himself say, but when she lay back on the wool blanket, he positioned
himself over her, digging the condom out of his pocket. “You’re not ready.”

“Yes
I am,” she countered, wrapping her long, sleek legs around him.

He
made quick work of the condom, wishing it were fashioned out of something
strong enough to slow him down. Like titanium-lined neoprene.

James
knew, even if Carly didn’t, that they were moving too fast. He’d meant to touch
her first, to take his time, to be sweet and tender and gentle, but she was
writhing with impatience, and he was out of his mind with desire. Unable to
hold himself back, he thrust inside her, taking her virginity with very little
fanfare and absolutely no finesse.

Carly
cried out, her body tensing under his.

James
lifted his head to look at her face. It was pinched with pain. “Did I hurt
you?” he managed, his voice raw.

She
nodded, tears flooding her eyes.

His
gut clenched with regret, and he tried to withdraw. It was a valiant effort,
and he moved back slightly, but the friction was too much for him. His hips
jerked forward again involuntarily.

She
clutched her hands at his shoulders. “James, stop,” she sobbed, hitting him
with her fists. “It hurts. Take it out.”

He
pulled away from her and rolled onto his back, chest heaving. “I’m sorry,” he
gasped, cursing himself for being so clumsy. “I’m going to die now,” he added,
wallowing in the agony of sexual frustration.

Carly
smiled. “Maybe we should try again.”

“I
can’t.”

“You
look like you can.”

“I
mean I can’t stop again. So we better not.”

She
pouted gorgeously, because that’s what she did when things weren’t going her
way. “But, James, I’m all…”

“What?”

“Itchy
and aching.”

He
opened his eyes, let them slide over her lithe body. “I can probably help you
out with that.”

She
gave his penis a questionable look, and he laughed. It hurt to laugh, so he
stopped. “With my mouth,” he clarified.

“Oh,”
she said, a soft blush of color on her cheeks. “No,” she decided, biting down
on her lower lip.

“Why
not?” He stared at the apex of her thighs eagerly.

Suddenly
shy, she covered herself with her hand. “Because.”

He
was beguiled by her modesty. “Why?”

“I
think I bled a little bit.”

He
sat up and took her hand away. “Let me see.” He stroked her with the tips of
his fingers, barely touching her, then pulled his hand back to look at it. Her
moisture was there, and a tinge of pink. “Yeah,” he said in wonder, smiling
slightly. “You did.” Without thinking, he licked the tips of his fingers, and
heard her sharp intake of breath.

Puzzled,
he drew his eyes up to her face. She was flushed and lushly dark-eyed, her
dusky nipples jutting forth, her respiration coming in short, soft pants. Not
sure what had caused her reaction, he touched his slick fingers to her and
brought them up to his mouth again.

“Why
are you doing that?” she asked, spreading her legs a little more.

“I
want to taste you.”

She
moaned, throwing her head back and resting her hands behind her, palms facedown
on the deck. He skimmed his fingertips over her, very lightly, and she moved
her hips against his hand, yearning. At the same time, he bent his head to her
and wet her nipple with his tongue. She whimpered, so he did the same with the
other nipple, watching the sun and breeze dry them, then doing it all over
again.

When
he thought she was almost to the point of climax, judging by the breathy sounds
she was making, he moved his mouth down her body. He quickly discovered it
wasn’t as difficult to please her as he’d imagined. He just put his tongue
where he thought he should and laved that spot, like he’d done with her nipple.

She
clutched at his hair, holding him there, so it must have been the right place,
and then he was sure, because she stiffened and shook and screamed his name.