Operation Foreplay (21 page)

“I’ve already seen it and maybe I don’t want to have to ask to see it again.” I pushed my hair away from my face.

“Then I guess if you really want something”—he swam closer—“you should just damn the consequences and go after it.” He licked his lips as his eyes drifted toward my mouth. He was smiling but it wasn’t his usual sexy smirk or the teasing grin I’d come to look forward to staring at over the past week. It was something else I couldn’t place.

Another wave pushed me up against him. “Jared?”

“Yeah?” His voice deepened.

“I can’t kiss you again.”

“Why not?”

“Not until I explain something.”

“Explain what? That you don’t want to kiss me?”

“No. No. I
want
to kiss you. Dear lord, I would kiss you all fucking day. But, see, I made this kind of bet with the girls—”

“The no sex till your birthday thing? That’s a real thing?”

“Yeah.”

He blew out a long breath. “So you want to kiss me, but you’re afraid kiss me because you think it will lead to sex.” He dunked his head under the water for a second.

“In a nutshell.”

“So”—he waved between us—“you and I have something here? I’m not imagining it?”

“You aren’t imagining it. And to be honest”—I swam closer to him—“I’ve really had a great time with you and getting to know you has been kind of eye opening.”

“How so?”

“The fact that I like you enough
not
to jump your bones? Huge.”

“So the fact that sex is off the table is a good thing?”

“I think so.”

“So we can kiss and other kinds of things but we can’t have sex.” It wasn’t a question. It was as if he was explaining it to himself. “This is going to be a rough couple of weeks.”

He smiled, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me in tight. My arms reached up around his neck as we settled against each other. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest until I realized I could feel his speed up, too. For a moment I felt the two beats struggling to get in sync but it wasn’t long before they were marching in unison.

His hands fell from my back and settled on my ass. He squeezed tightly and I let out a tiny moan before his lifted me out of the water and I wrapped my legs around his waist. His lips pressed against mine and I opened my mouth slightly as his tongue begged for entrance. The kiss deepened and I could feel warmth spread through my stomach, down my legs, and curl my toes.

I’d never been kissed so slowly, so completely. There was no pretense, no expectation of it leading to anything else. It was a kiss. A kiss that muddled my brain and stole my breath.

He was right. It was going to be a rough couple of weeks.

Chapter Seventeen

I
really need to work on my tan.” I rolled over on my towel and turned my head to look at Jared. We’d all but forgotten about breakfast and when we finally pulled ourselves from the ocean, our lips were sore from making out. Thank God for tropical-flavored lip balm. And Jared’s full, suckable lips.

I hadn’t had sore lips from making out since middle school. Hell, I don’t think I’d actually made out with anyone since I was sixteen for longer than a few minutes before it led to either a hand job, blow job, or sex.

Seriously.

And honestly? I’d put that oceanic make-out session with Jared on a pedestal above the most mind-blowing sex I’d ever had. Even Zac, with his dexterous hands, magical lips, and ever-ready cock, was no match for what had gone down in the waves earlier. It was that fucking amazing. Not to mention I could feel his excitement every time the waves rocked us together. Maybe I should’ve been embarrassed that I had a very slow, simmering mini orgasm from the kissing and what, I guess, would be considered dry humping, courtesy of Mother Nature. The way his hands felt on my ass, the way his arms felt holding me, the way his chest felt against mine, the way his tongue explored my mouth, and the way he pulled back, smiled, and watched with intensity and interest when he realized he didn’t have to be inside me to make me come. And the look on his face when he realized how surprised I was at the fact was sexy as hell.

“Don’t tan too much. You’ll end up looking like a wrinkly leather bag.” He sat up and rubbed suntan lotion all over my back.

“Better than looking like an Oompa Loompa. Nothing says stereotypical New Jersey than orange skin and high hair.”

“Don’t remind me.” He smacked my ass. “There. All covered. Do me.” He held out the lotion.

“Here? In public?” I snatched the lotion from him and smiled. “What are you, a freak?”

He rushed forward and pushed me on my back as he settled in on top of me. His knee wedged between my legs, he said, “You weren’t complaining earlier. And that”—he sprinkled kisses on my neck—“was a pretty public display.”

Hooking my legs around him, I pivoted and rolled over until I was lying on top of him. “So you’re into public displays?” I reached down between my legs to feel him. My hand gripped him through his shorts and he sucked in a breath. I gave him a squeeze, leaned over, and bit his bottom lip. “Maybe another time.”

I rolled off him and resumed my position in my towel. “I need to at least get some color. Pasty white just won’t do.”

“Tease.” Laughing, he rolled over on his stomach, too. But not for the tan; he needed to stifle his growing excitement.

“So tell me about this dream of yours to become a chef,” I said after a while.

“I don’t know.” He rolled to his back and popped on his aviators. “I just like to cook. I hate to bake. Baking is not my thing.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Yes, there’s a difference!” He shook his head. “Baking requires precision, measuring, following directions.”

“That’s funny because your
job
requires precision and following directions.”

“Not the same thing,” he said quickly.

“Good to know.” I moved so I could place my head on his stomach. I covered my eyes with my arm since I had left my sunglasses back at the condo.

“With cooking, I get to be more creative. Experiment more.”

“So you’re into experimentation.” I smiled.

“Absolutely.” The sexy smirk made its obligatory appearance and were I not already lying down, I might have swooned.

Those swoony thoughts clouded my head, so I cleared my throat and said, “Please continue.”

“I have a few recipes locked in my head. A few go-to items that always come out good. But my favorite is when I get stuck with a few ingredients and have to figure out what to do with them. Which herb goes with what. What flavors meld. You know?”

“I do. Kinda like flying by the seat of your pants.”

“Exactly.”

“So why don’t you do it? Why don’t you get a place and live the dream?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Well”—I sat up—“you’re a numbers guy. I’m a numbers girl. Berk is a real estate guy. I am sure together we can find something. I mean, even Brian owns his bar. He could help, too. Maybe give you some advice. You should totally do it.”

“Nah. It’s not realistic. Look, this job I got with Berk is great. I’ll make great money, add to my portfolio of investments—”

“You have a portfolio of investments?”

“Yeah. Don’t you? We do
work
in that industry. I thought it was a given.”

“No, I do. But I’m almost thirty and have been doing this eight years. You’re twenty-six—”

He cocked his head and looked at me strangely. “What does age have to do with anything?”

“It doesn’t. Forget it. I didn’t mean anything by it, honest. Sometimes I feel like I’ve been doing this for a million years. I’m great at my job but I get tired of it. I forget what it’s like to slow down and look around sometimes. You know, smell the flowers? I’ve been so busy moving up the ladder, I forget to see where I’m going or to check out the view.”

“And how’s the view?”

“Right now? Perfect.” I leaned down and kissed him softly.

“Well”—he sat up across from me—“what are your dreams? I am sure you didn’t always want to do math for a living.”

I laughed. “I don’t ever remember having a particular dream. I worked hard at whatever I did. Took a math class in college, loved it, and the rest is history.”

“But no dream job? No bucket list?”

“Nope. I can’t even remember wanting to be a princess as a kid. I guess I was pretty okay with who I was. Still am. For the most part. Is that awful?”

He smiled. “Not awful at all. Surprising with how driven you are, but not awful.”

“Well”—I leaned my face into his hand as he caressed my cheek—“maybe I can help you with your dream.”

“Oh, yeah? Right now my dream is to go take a nap, wake up next to you, take a shower, and drink a really cold beer. Oh, and maybe sneak off for another marathon make-out session. In no particular order, of course.” He cocked his eyebrow and smirked.

“I think I can manage to help with that.” I stood and held out my hand. He grabbed it and I pulled him up. “Let’s go get that nap.”

“What day is today?” He draped his arm around my shoulder as we made the short trek back to the condo.

“Thursday.”

“I feel like I’ve been back in New Jersey forever but it’s only been like, what? A month?

I nodded. “And in that time, you’ve been shuffled from your sister’s place to mine, got a new job, and escaped to the beach to pretend you’re my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, that’s the part that sucks. All that kissing and ass grabbing. Terrible.” He made a face and stuck out his tongue.

“Awful. Just awful.” I shook my head.

“Maybe”—he pulled his arm from my neck and opened the door to the condo entrance—“we just need more practice. I mean, just for authenticity.”

“You’re right. I don’t think my parents are buying it. More practice might be good.” I walked up the steps with him behind me. I tossed a glance over my shoulder and noticed his gaze was focused on my ass. “So you’re an ass man?” I laughed.

“I guess I am.” He reached up and smacked it.

When we reached the third-floor landing he quickly pulled me aside and pushed my back up against the wall, pressing himself close. “I’m also a neck man.” He nipped at my throat. “And a boob man.” He tweaked my nipples between his fingers and I inhaled sharply. “And a lip man.” He lightly pulled at my bottom lip with his teeth before abruptly stepping away and taking a deep breath.

His eyes never left my face.

“Now who’s the tease?” I whispered, unable to raise the volume of my voice.

“This isn’t teasing,” he whispered back and opened the door to my parents’ place, motioning for me to enter, “it’s foreplay.”

And just like that, I knew Berk was right. Jared was my slow down, slow burn.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” My mom all but jumped off the couch and made her way over to me. “You look flushed. You feeling okay?” She placed the back of her hand against my forehead and I looked at Jared, knowing full well why I was flushed. He tried to stifle a laugh.

“I’m okay, Mom. Just probably need a cold shower after all that heat.”

I could feel Jared’s eyes on me. I’d always been very good at knowing when I caught someone’s attention but with Jared, I could feel his gaze follow me, take me all in. I became hyperaware of my every movement. It was almost unnerving, and I suddenly realized I’d felt this way around him since the first time I saw him in my apartment, like I was being watched. It was sexy as hell to feel like I was wanted every time I walked in the room, like I was noticed and appreciated. It was no wonder I’d been walking around the past week with a constant lady semi and ready to fire electricity buzzing between my legs. He was right. Just being in the same room with him was foreplay. Every time he looked at me was a silent promise of what could be between us, not only in the bedroom, but in life.

My best friend’s brother. The guy who wanted nothing more than to spend time with me. He liked kissing me, he didn’t push, he called me on my bullshit, and he wasn’t always in my face. He was a good guy.

I excused myself and headed to the bedroom. I hadn’t realized how tired I was and figured I needed a nap.

I’m not sure how long I was out; when I heard the door to my bedroom open I was barely awake and then I felt the bed sink down as Jared climbed in. He ran his fingers through my hair, carefully smoothing out the knots, and I tensed at his touch.

“I know you aren’t sleeping. But I’d prefer it if you pretended that you are, just for a minute.” I heard him chuckle. “It will make what I have to say easier, since you won’t talk back and I’ll be able to say what I want to say without your smart mouth interrupting me.”

He took a breath. “There’s a thing or two I need to get off my chest. And, I guess, better now than never. You see, Melody, when you and I first met at my high school graduation party, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And since then, I’ve compared everyone else I’ve met to who I thought you were. You’d recently graduated college and you were obviously way out of my league—older, beautiful, confident, and best friends with my sister. There was no way in hell you were ever going to look at me. But I promised myself, if I ever had that feeling again, that funny pit in my stomach over a girl, I would never let her go.