The Moment We Began (A Fairhope New Adult Romance) (2 page)

“Yeah, I need to get back up there.”
He says the words, but his feet don’t move.

He’s several inches taller than me, and I
have to lift my chin to meet his eyes. When I do, his lips part
slightly and his breathing speeds up.

I know I should tell him he’s an asshole. I
should send him away and tell him I never want to see him again. That
he’s a jerk for bringing a date to a party after what happened
between us last night. After he held me in his arms for hours and
talked about everything from music to movies to fantasies about the
future.

But I can’t. I’m powerless when it
comes to Mason. I want him any way I can get him.

Even if it means my heart will break a thousand
times. I know when he kisses me again, he’ll put it back
together.

I step forward and place my hand on his chest,
just over his heart. It’s racing just as fast as mine is.

“Kiss me,” I say, and he obeys.

He leans down, his lips meeting mine in a fiery
kiss. He pushes me back and steps into the room. The door shuts
behind him and he lifts me up, pulling me close against him. My legs
wrap around his body and he turns, backing me against the door as he
crushes his mouth against mine.

I whimper, a throbbing need gathering inside me.

The alcohol and passion mix and I let go of all
reason and logic. I don’t care about the party upstairs or the
girl he brought. I don’t care about the fact that he’d
rather keep this a secret than tell anyone he’s been with me.
All I care about in this moment is possessing him.

I move my hands over his body, exploring him as if
it’s the first time. Or the last.

He moans and kisses me harder, our mouths opening
and closing, tasting each other with a furious need. He’s
holding me up with one arm, but the other hand cups my breast, then
travels down and hooks on the string of my bikini bottom. With a
swift motion, he unties it on one side, then pushes it aside just
enough to give him access.

I lean my head back as his fingers plunge inside
me.

He kisses my neck, then bites as he moves his
fingers in and out.

“I want you,” I say, my voice a
gravelly whisper.

I press one hand flat against his chest, following
the rock-hard muscles down to his waistband. I tug his swimsuit down,
then wrap my hand around his fullness.

He pulls his head back and his eyes meet mine.
They are stormy, filled with a dark passion. He’s at war within
himself, I think, wanting me but not wanting me to have this power.

I make the choice easy for him, lifting my body
and positioning him at the edge of my wetness. All he has to do is
move his hips forward, but he hesitates for the briefest moment as
our warm breath mingles in the space between.

I want to scream at him. I want to know why he’s
holding back. What I’ve done wrong. What I could possibly do to
make him fully surrender himself to me.

Instead, I hold his gaze, waiting for him to make
the move. To let me know that despite his pulling away, he can’t
resist me any more than I can resist him.

He enters me all at once, taking my breath away.
My nails dig into his back and I move my hips forward. He thrusts
hard, slamming my back against the door. My heart beats wildly
against my chest and I pull my legs tighter around him, wanting him
deeper, harder.

And when he comes, I cry out, clinging to him with
my entire body.

Never wanting to let him go, but knowing he won’t
stay.

“Will you stay here with me tonight?”
I ask Mason as we’re heading back up to the sun deck.

He pauses on the stairs, then turns back to me.
“You know I can’t, Pen,” he says.

I want to be able to let it go at that and act
happy, but I can’t. After a year of being with him in secret,
I’m ready for more. But I have no idea how to get it.

I put my hand on his and he pulls away.

“So you just fuck me when it’s
convenient for you and who cares what I want, right?” I
absolutely didn’t mean to say that out loud, but it comes
pouring out anyway. I blame the alcohol.

“That’s not fair,” he says.

“Fair?” I feel the anger brewing
inside, and I can’t control it. I already know I’m in the
danger zone, but I can’t stop myself. “So what is fair?
You think that being with me one night and then bringing someone else
onto my boat just a few hours later is being fair to me? Or are we
only talking about you, here?”

He glances up the stairs, then walks me back down
to the main deck. I can hear voices coming from the direction of the
galley, but we’re in a small hallway and no one can see us.
Just the way he likes it.

“I never promised you more than this,”
he says. “I have always been open and honest with you about
what I wanted, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” I say. “You’ve made
it crystal clear that you don’t want anything beyond a physical
relationship with me.”

He closes his eyes and runs a hand across his
forehead. “You make it sound so cheap,” he says. “We
both know there’s more to what we have than just a physical
relationship.”

“Then what’s the problem?” I
ask. I put my arms around his waist, but he pulls me off and steps
away.

“The problem is exactly how much more you
want,” he says, shaking his head. “I love you as a
friend, Pen, I really do. I like hanging out, and you know I love the
physical part too, but I’m not looking for a girlfriend. I need
to have my freedom right now.”

“So many girls, so little time,” I
say. “I completely understand.”

He narrows his eyes. “Look, if you aren’t
happy with this, maybe we need to just stop seeing each other for a
while.”

A lump forms in my throat, but I push back any
threat of tears.

“Is that what you want?”

“I want you to stop asking me for more than
this,” he says. “I told you a year ago that this was the
most I could offer. If it’s not enough for you, then maybe we
should stop.”

My memory flashes back to a little over a year ago
when we slept together for the first time. It was here on my family’s
yacht after a party one night. Mason and Preston had decided to stay
afterward with me and Bailey. Bailey ended up going home after a
couple of hours and Preston passed out in his stateroom on the lower
deck.

Mason and I stayed up most of the night watching
movies and talking. We’d been flirting more and more over the
past several months, but I knew it meant more to me than it did to
him. We were playing cards and drinking. It didn’t take long
before any inhibitions were gone, and the next thing I knew, we were
kissing.

He told me up front that he wasn’t the kind
of guy who falls in love. I told him I was okay with that.

Two days later, he showed up at the beach with
another girl on his arm. That’s when I realized for the first
time that I was in love with someone who would never love me back.

“Maybe we should,” I say, and I can’t
believe the words have left my mouth. Panic shoots through my veins
like lightning. I want to take it back, but it’s too late.

“Fine,” he says. The only sign he
gives that he’s not fine is a tightening of his jaw.

My heart falls to the pit of my stomach. Can he
really let me go that fast? Just like that?

“Great,” I say, my voice trembling. I
feel the sting of tears, but refuse to let him see that I’m
upset. I take a deep breath in and force a smile. “There are a
few guys I can think of who will be glad to take your place.”

I breeze past him and smile for real when his
hands tighten into fists. He doesn’t follow me right away, and
I don’t dare look back.

When I get up to the sun deck, the party is
raging. The music is loud and fast and a lot of people are dancing,
their bodies grinding under the canopy. Several people are gathered
in the hot tub and around the deck. Preston is behind the bar mixing
drinks for a crowd of mostly women.

I want to keep walking until my body falls down
deep into the water, disappearing beneath the surface and floating
down into the darkest depths. I want to end this pain in my heart.

But instead I smile and greet my friends and play
the part of a proper hostess.

I slip behind the bar and give my twin brother a
hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Preston laughs. “What was that for?”

I shrug. “Just wanted to let you know I love
you,” I say. “Thanks for mixing drinks.”

“Did you find the champagne?” he asks.

I lower my eyes and raise an eyebrow. “For
Trina? Do we really want to waste our good champagne on yet another
of Mason’s temporary amusements?”

Preston makes a face at me. “You’ve
got to learn to let that go,” he says. He’s clueless
about what’s really been going on between me and Mason. My
brother believes I have some schoolgirl crush on the guy and that
it’s nothing serious. “What about Braxton?”

I shake my head. “Who?”

“Braxton. The guy mom was trying to set you
up with,” he says. “He’s Danielle Sullivan’s
youngest son. I guess he’s transferring to Fairhope Coastal
this upcoming semester.”

I stick my tongue out. I need another of my
mother’s setups like I need another hole in my head. She keeps
trying to send me on blind dates with her friends’ sons, and
every time I say yes, I end up spending the evening at the country
club with another boring guy in a suit and tie who wants to talk
about my trust fund.

Preston rolls his eyes. “You never know,”
he says. “This could be the one. You’ve got to start
going out some, Penny. You’re too young to be heartbroken over
some jerk who can’t see how great you are.”

I laugh. “He’s your best friend. Are
you really supposed to call him a jerk?”

“When it comes to you, yes,” he says.
“Do you want something to drink? I’m going to make a few
more, then go see if I can find a date of my own for next weekend.”

I stare down at the bar. I most definitely want
something to drink. Something strong.

I pick up the bottle of tequila he has set to the
side and his eyes widen.

“Oh no you don’t,” he says,
taking the bottle from me. “You remember what happened last
time you drank tequila? You went totally off the rails. I think you
should stick to something tame. Like rum or wine.”

I snatch the bottle back from him and search for a
shot glass.

“I don’t remember,” I say.

I pour myself a shot, down it, then pour another.

“Not remembering is the whole point.”

I wake up hot.

The sun is beating down on my back and sweat
trickles along the side of my face. I open my eyes, then close them
against the bright light of the morning sun. Or at least I think it’s
morning.

I sit up and there’s a sucking sound as I
peel my skin off the couch.

My head throbs and my throat is so dry, I can
hardly swallow.

I’m still out on the sun deck of the
Opportunity, my parents’ yacht. The place is trashed. Plastic
cups litter the deck. A half-eaten pizza is smashed against the
wooden deck. Wet towels are strewn across everything. Trash cans
overflow with beer bottles and paper plates.

I stand and walk down the steps to the salon. I
open the mini-fridge looking for water, but it’s empty. I go
down to the main deck and grab one from the fridge in the galley,
downing half of it without taking a breath.

I can barely remember what happened last night. I
remember drinking. I remember dancing on top of the table with
Krystal. I cringe as I think I might remember taking my bathing suit
off in the hot tub. I have no idea how the night ended or how
everyone got home, but I do remember seeing Mason leave with the
blond he’d brought along.

Just thinking of them together makes me want to
run to the bathroom. My stomach turns over and I sit down and put my
head between my legs until it passes.

When I come back up, I see the digital clock above
the TV and my heart skips.

Shit.

It’s Sunday.

My parents are going to kill me.

Sunday morning brunch is our family tradition.
Rain or shine, we are all supposed to show up for brunch on Sundays
at eleven.

I’ve been late three weeks in a row, and I’m
going to be late again.

I run to my stateroom and search my bag for a
change of clothes. I jump in the shower and quickly wash the stink of
tequila off my body, then brush my teeth and try to make myself
presentable. Bloodshot eyes stare back at me in the mirror. I
scramble in my bag for the eye drops and blink as I drop them into my
eyes.

My dark brown hair is wet from the shower, so I
pull it up into a french twist, securing it with a pearl clip. I dust
my cheeks with some light pink blush, sweep some brown eyeliner
around my eyes, and pray it’s enough to keep me from looking
too hungover.

I toss my red bikini into my bag and throw on a
simple black tank top and my cutoffs. I know mom prefers for us to
dress up for brunch, but this is all I brought with me on the ship
and there’s no time to sneak up to my room before they start.

If they haven’t started eating already.

I hurry off the ship and toss my bag into my Audi,
then floor it all the way home.

It’s eleven-thirty by the time I pull
through the security gate and into the driveway of my parents’
house. I rush into the dining room, but no one is there. I finally
find them by the pool out back, their plates full of fresh fruit and
omelets.

Mom stands when I appear. She hugs me tight.
“You’re late,” she says. “I was worried you
weren’t going to make it.”

“Sorry,” I say, not bothering to
remove my sunglasses. Since we’re outside, maybe I can get away
with leaving them on.

“How many weeks in a row is that?” Dad
asks. He doesn’t get up so I cross over to him and give him a
kiss on the cheek.