Page 32 of Cross the Line
But then Dev drops my finger and the wave of wild desire ebbs again, bringing me back to my senses. I know better. And from the guarded gleam in his onyx eyes, so does he.
‘Let’s go eat our haul,’ he says, his voice carrying a hint of tension. Like he’s holding back the words he really wants to set free.
I nod and let him shut my door, taking a second to breathe.
Get your shit together, the little voice in the back of my head scolds. Too bad it’s drowned out by the memory of Chantal’s knowing laugh.
CHAPTER 12
Dev
If it were possible to die from blue balls, I’d be deceased by now.
Between the dry spell that’s lasted what feels like a fucking lifetime and Willow’s big brown eyes all over me, saying things her lips refuse to, I’m pretty sure my dick is going to verbally scream for help at any second.
Sure, I could do something about it. Most people around here – honestly, most of my fellow Americans – don’t know who I am, so it’s unlikely the rumour that haunts me will be an issue. I could hit up a bar, pick up a random chick, and take her home. But knowing my luck, it would blow up in my face, and I’d end up with a new scandal on my hands. Something else to piss off Argonaut and finally end my career.
And, I’ll admit it, I’ve got enough money and clout to get the number for a service that would send a gorgeous woman right to my door, but paying for sex doesn’t do it for me. More power to the sex workers who enjoy their jobs, but I don’t think I’ll ever be one of the guys who employ their services, even though I know several people in the paddock who do.
Which leaves me with the option I’ve been relying on for weeks and the inspiration I’ve been using since that night in Austin: my hand wrapped around my dick and Willow on my mind. And I’ve got new material to add after today – the wind blowing her dress up around her hips, exposing the daisy-printed bikini bottoms that barely covered her perfect peach of an ass.
I was a gentleman at the time and pretended not to notice. But now? My mind is racing with nothing but filth as she steps into her house and turns to close the door, flashing me a small smile as she does.
I head for my house and move straight upstairs to my bedroom and the en-suite bathroom. My parents are in Malibu for the day looking at Alisha’s wedding venue, thankfully. Because one afternoon with Willow, and I’m sporting the biggest fucking hard-on known to man. Bless the macaron bags I managed to hide it with on the way inside. If not for their divine presence, this probably would have scared Willow away for ever.
I’m out of my clothes and in the shower in the blink of an eye, head pressed against the cool tiles and hand gripping my cock as the water rains down. Her smile materializes in my mind first. Plump lips, pink tongue darting out to wet them, dimples flashing in her cheeks. From there, I imagine her slender neck, the swell of her breasts covered by the thin cotton of her sundress, the breeze catching the fabric and lifting it to her waist. Faded, pale stretch marks map her hips and ass, tempting me to trace each one, to dip between her thighs and elicit soft gasps from her. To feel her pussy gripping me. To bring her so high she cries out my name and shatters under my touch.
I’m coming in record time, eyes squeezed shut and braced on one forearm. It would be embarrassing as hell if I had company. But fuck it. This is just what Willow and scandal-imposed celibacy does to me. I’m like a goddamn teenager all over again.
When I’m finished in the shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and grab another to dry my hair. A muscle in my shoulder twinges as I lift my arm. Shit. It’s been a while since I’ve been tossed around by waves like that, and I’m undoubtedly going to be sore tomorrow. Considering I gave Mark the week off, I don’t have anyone to fix me if I mess anything up too badly, so I pull on a pair of swim trunks and head out to the hot tub in the backyard – my makeshift physical therapist.
The sun has nearly set by the time I step out onto the deck, the twinkling lights Dad installed switching on automatically above my head as the sky darkens. The hot tub sits two steps down on the lower portion of the deck, where it can barely be seen from the house, and the tall fence to the left divides our yard from the Williamses’. The small opening Oakley and I cut out in the back corner is still there, never boarded over, even though neither of us could fit through it any more. Only Herman, his family’s St Bernard, uses it these days, and even he’s pushing it size-wise.
After flipping the cover off the hot tub, I ease one foot into the water and then the other, sinking down until I’m fully submerged in one of the lounge seats. I drop my head back and groan as my muscles ease little by little. A press of a button has the jets firing up and hammering between my shoulders, but I’m distracted from the relief when the flickering of a light catches my attention.
From my vantage point, I can see the second floor of the Williamses’ house, and the light is coming from Willow’s bedroom window. The blinds are open, and there she is, an orange box in one hand and a macaron in the other. She stops and takes a bite, tilting her head back in pleasure as she chews, black curls tumbling down her back. Like someone has called for her, she glances over her shoulder, and her lips move. Then she’s heading over to the window.
My breath hitches as I wait for her to catch me watching, but her eyes stay trained on the door as she pulls the cord for the blinds, closing off the glimpse I had of her life.
As I’m beginning to realize, even being with her for hours on end doesn’t feel like enough any more. How I went months without seeing her after the bad decision we made – okay, fine, the bad decisionImade – I’ll never know. But now that she’s back in my life . . . Yeah, I’m fucked.
Completely and utterly fucked.
So, I do the only thing I can. I close my eyes and lose myself in the memory of that night – the one when everything changed – once again.
——
It’s Saturday night in Austin –that night– and I need to go the fuck to sleep.
Mark has already worked on my shoulders and neck so I won’t be stiff when I get into the car tomorrow. Chava has been over our travel plans for Mexico next week. Jani has succeeded in pissing me off beyond belief with her little videos. And thirty minutes ago, after hours of playing video games with me, Oakley left my hotel room so I could get some rest.
But sleep eludes me. All because I can’t stop thinking about Willow.
She’s been on my mind since Wednesday night when we were all shit-faced at the club for Oakley’s birthday. Her in that tiny dress, curls loose and tousled, the kind of sexy that had my eyes lingering for way too long. She’s usually girl-next-door cute, but with that much skin on display and the heated haze in her eyes . . . Fuck, she was nothing short of a fantasy.
I can still feel the warmth of her skin, of her soft hips under my palms, of her hands over mine. I can hear her murmuring, ‘What would you have done, Dev?’
That’s the thing. I still don’t know what I would have done if I’d noticed her crush on me sooner. I haven’t stopped agonizing over it since she asked, pushing myself to analyse every encounter she and I have had over the years and contemplate whether there was a chance when I could have made a move.
