The thought caused my cheeks to flush. With heat or embarrassment, I wasn’t actually sure. But the truth was I was both aroused and mortified.
I wanted to move far away and never see his face again.
It was confliction at its finest.
I had no idea how long I stared out at the water, replaying the scenario over and over and over. It could’ve been hours. It could’ve been mere minutes. Either way, I still wasn’t ready to face him when he cleared his throat behind me. I didn’t know if I’d ever be. So I froze, sitting as still as a statue, acting as if he couldn’t see me. Waves of emotions poured over me. Humiliation. Avid curiosity. That damned arousal. A strange fear also set in, but later, I’d understand that as a primal urge.
“Sierra.” His soft voice called to me, almost sounding pained.
As much as I wanted to pretend I couldn’t hear him, the whisper of my name on his lips forced me to turn around. I took a deep breath and plastered a smile on my face when I saw that he was dressed. Then I shimmied my hips, figuring humor was the best way to deal with this…situation. The last thing I wanted was for things to be weird between us just because we’d finally gotten to the age where knocking was a must before bursting into each other’s rooms. And even more so, I didn’t want Jeremy to realize I was flustered from having seen him in that state. Or that I wanted a second peek.
He leaned against a wooden pole, watching me with cautious eyes. Even still, his eyes weren’t meeting mine. It was clear he didn’t know what to say. Neither did I, short of asking if I could see it again.
Then I knew exactly what to do to break the silence. A not-so-sexy rendition of “Strokin’” left my lips.
At first, he didn’t look amused, but once I started singing about the directions in which I’d stroke (or the ones in which I’d like to watch him stroke), his lips twitched and curved into a smile he couldn’t fight anymore. First to the east. Then to the west. I nearly faltered over the line of who I’d stroke it to. But somehow, I pushed through, even though a tingle started between my thighs at the thought of Jeremy stroking it to me. I knew better, but it didn’t make me want him any less.
“Ha. Ha. Very funny, Sullivan,” he grumbled, stalking towards me.
There it was again. Sullivan. It was the proverbial cold shower I’d needed to extinguish my arousal. At least, it was until he placed his hands on my hips to still my movements. The image of where those hands had just been ignited my desire and brought it to new heights.
“This is how it’s done.”
He released me from his hold and stepped back into the middle of the gazebo. As he broke out into a much better version of the song, I had a hard time containing my giggles. By the time he was done, I was doubled over, laughing harder than the situation warranted, but I couldn’t help myself. When I calmed down, I stood up straight, and he was watching me with his arms folded across his chest.
“If you’re done…and well, I saw you finish…” I paused as he blushed.
I’d never seen that look on his face before. It was adorable, yet as soon as I had that thought, I knew I’d never think of Jeremy Banks as adorable again. Not after what I’d seen. No, he was hot. He was…sexy.
He studied me carefully. I had a feeling he was shocked at how nonchalant I was about the whole thing. Hell, even I was surprised I wasn’t freaking out. I figured I’d have time for that later though, when I was home alone in my room. In private. Because stroking isn’t just for boys, you know.
Suddenly, I wanted to be back at my own place, doing my own thing. I had to get out of there.
“I’m tired. I think I’m going to call it a night,” I told him as I walked past him and started down the long, wooden walkway towards our neighborhood.
“Hey, Sierra?” he asked. All playfulness had disappeared, and the serious tone caused my nerve endings to tingle with anticipation.
I stopped and looked back at him. A silence hung in the air as we stared at each other.
“Yeah, Jer?”
“You know it’s natural, right? All guys do it,” he said a bit hesitantly.
Waving a hand as it if weren’t a big deal, I nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I know all about what boys do when they read Playboy or watch Baywatch or whatever turns you on.”
That was when I realized I wanted to be what turned him on. Could he ever think of me that way?
His eyes fell away from me as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. My heart fell a little because I’d probably just mentioned one of the things he’d used to help…move things along. Great. Just great. Now, I’d freak out any time he had a magazine in his hands.
“What about you?”
My eyes widened as he stared out at the surf, doing his best not to look at me. “What about me?” I asked.
His head turned, and his eyes were full of curiosity. I knew what was coming, and even though I could’ve stopped it by going ahead and answering his unasked question, I didn’t. I wanted to hear it come from his lips. And I didn’t have to wait long.
“Do you…masturbate?”
My mouth dropped open in shock at the fact that he had actually been able to get the word out without giggling like a schoolboy like he and Chris used to do when anything remotely sexual came up. Wow. Things really had changed.
“What?!” I gasped even though I had known it was coming. I hadn’t actually thought he’d say the word out loud. As if I’d ever answer that question. Not for him.
“You know…click the mouse. Rub the love button.”
“That’s none of your business!” I shrieked, horrified that he’d turned this around on me.
A slow, satisfied grin settled on his face as a dreamy expression took over. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I crossed the gazebo and shoved his shoulder. “Whatever. That is not what I said.”
He grasped my arm and pulled me in close. His lips hovered just above my ear, his warm breath causing me to shiver. If I turned my head, our lips would brush. Chris wasn’t there to interrupt this time, and it felt like the perfect moment. I was trying to muster up the courage to do just that when his deep voice filled my ear.
“Exactly, Sierra. It’s what you didn’t say. And, now, I have the perfect visual the next time I’m strokin’.”
His voice was sexy, seductive, and it sent a shot of pleasure straight between my legs. For the first time in my life, I was positive I was turned on, and all I wanted to do was touch myself.
I apologize, Divinyls, for all those years I made fun of your song.
Because, from that moment on, whenever I thought about Jeremy Banks, I wanted to touch myself.
My eyes widened as my cheeks flamed. I’d never had masturbatory thoughts before. Despite the cool breeze coming off the water, I was on fire. My palms were sweaty, clammy, and I had the urge to clench my thighs together. At the time, I had no idea what was happening, but I wanted friction down there, and I wanted it immediately.
He apparently missed the way I’d gone silent. He definitely missed the way I was biting my lip and staring at him as if he were the juiciest steak and I was a starving bodybuilder. Instead of reading my body language—and thank goodness for that—he just laughed and grabbed my hand, which I promptly pulled away. I’d never been more thankful that the annoying little Barrister kids down the street had broken the lightbulb in the gazebo or that the homeowners association hadn’t gotten around to replacing it yet. The moonlight was doing a great job of masking my first experience with arousal.
Strokin’. God, I’d never be able to hear that word—or that song—again and think of it the same way.
My heart was hammering, and I couldn’t get the damn image of him doing just that out of mind. He had the perfect visual? No way. I was pretty sure I did. Even more than that, I was pretty sure I’d just stepped aboard the Sexual Sierra Sullivan Express and I was ready for that ride. Not with Jeremy—hell no. It was way too soon for that—but with myself. Self-experimentation and all of that good stuff.