“Hopefully it will also be your first officially fun all-nighter,” he said as he came toward her, brushing his hand down her side.
“To add to all the other new firsts.”
“Such as?” he asked, wanting to hear the list.
“Sex in a pool.”
“How about under a waterfall?”
“And don’t forget about hang gliding.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and there’ll be sex on the beach, too,” he murmured, gathering her hands in his and pressing his body to her.
“With two million people around?” she giggled, rubbing a hand over the head of his cock where it strained up against his fly.
“We’ll have to find a quiet spot.” He was breathing harder now, his lips brushing hers, bringing his hands to her breasts to run his fingers across the thin white fabric doing nothing to keep her nipples at bay.
The fabric was cut low into a V that showed off her cleavage but then stopped, leaving the rest of her midriff bare. There were small capped sleeves over her shoulders and a full back as though it were a normal shirt with the bottom half cut off, so it covered her more than if she were wearing a white bikini top or something similar.
But it was still cut so low that the top of her bra showed through, and she must have been saving it because it was one that he hadn’t seen before. A pale peach, lacy thing that he hoped matched her panties, just enough of the delicate fabric peeking over the top to make him want to tear the whole thing off.
The skirt was short and hugged her hips, the bright white drawing out the glow in her skin, her stomach and hips, her long, long legs. He bent down before her and pressed his lips to the skin below her belly button, running his hands over her hips and the gorgeous crest of her ass.
She tugged at him to get him to stand and he took the opportunity to run his lips up her bare skin, skipping over the small clasp of fabric between her breasts and then kissing the exposed line of her chest where her bra and the fitted shirt pushed her soft curves out.
She put her arms around him and ran her fingers under the waist of his boxer-briefs. He was getting way, way too excited, but the sun was going down and they could hear the music coming up from the beach, a low bass drowning out the whispers of the ocean and the high-pitched swell of the gathering crowds. It was definitely time for them to get out there. He tried to make his cock behave as he kissed her warmly on the lips.
“All ready?” he murmured, unable to keep his hands off her ass as he leaned in to smell the soft, clean scent of her shampoo and the lotion on her skin.
“I want you to know that I’m only doing this because when else am I going to be on Copacabana Beach for New Years.”
Her stern resolve made him laugh. “So you don’t walk around Chicago dressed like this all the time?”
She shot him a withering look. “Very funny, hot stuff.”
“Should I wear this shirt?” he asked, motioning to pull on the V-neck to see if she thought it went with the pants, but she snatched it out of his hands.
“If I’m naked, so are you.”
“Fair is fair,” he grinned, and together they slid on their sandals and stepped out into the warm, electric night.
Chapter Eighteen
Everything had seemed fine in their hotel room. But once she was under the harsh lights of the hotel lobby, Julia felt herself shrink. As she and Blake strode outside, she desperately wanted to tear her hand out of his, race upstairs, and change back into her familiar cut offs and tank top.
Or hide under the bed and not come out at all.
It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with the outfit itself, but it was so far outside how she normally dressed that it felt like it wasn’t even her. She was afraid everyone was going to stare at her accusingly, like they knew she was doing something wrong.
But no one batted an eye. The concierge at the hotel was dressed in a crisp white suit and flashed them a smile and a wave as they crossed the lobby, wishing them a Feliz Ano Novo, a phrase Julia knew she was going to be hearing a lot of in the coming night. No sirens wailed, no Good Girl Police came to take her in for breaking the contract that said she was supposed to stay home, be practical, and take care of everyone else while they had a good time.
If only Liz could see me now¸ she thought, and grinned as she and Blake stepped out into the night.
“What’s got you so happy?” Blake asked, his eyes dancing in the soft light that spilled out into the street from the buildings along the strip of sand.
“Thinking about how low Liz’s jaw would drop if she saw me,” Julia said truthfully.
“Something tells me Liz would have a blast tonight,” he laughed.
“Yeah, and normally I’d be the one telling her to be careful and don’t get back too late and drink another glass of water before taking more shots.”
Blake squeezed her hand. “No babysitting tonight.”
“Not like she really needs it,” Julia admitted, and Blake nodded like maybe that’s what he’d been thinking, too. It was starting to dawn on her that Liz had never really needed a babysitter—just a friend. She and Danny had been so focused on taking care of her, they’d forgotten that it was still okay to have a good time. Anything that had happened was Mark’s fault. Liz didn’t need to punish herself anymore.
Julia understood it now. Of course Liz wanted her to go off and have fun on her own. Julia could be a good friend and still have the time of her life. She might even be a better friend for letting herself experience all that the world had in store.
As the crowd on the beach swallowed them in, Julia felt a strange weight lifting from her shoulders. It was like something she hadn’t even realized she was carrying around had jumped off and was now circling far above them in the night sky, never to return.
The beach was crowded but even with all the people pouring steadily onto the sand it didn’t feel stifling. Julia had spent other New Year’s Eves crammed next to strangers to watch fireworks, her fingers and toes so frozen she just wanted the ball to drop so she could go home. More recently she’d taken to staying in with a small group of friends so they could drink champagne and eat hors d’oeuvres and fall asleep in a heap on somebody’s couch, waking up to stuff themselves with French toast in the morning.
It was always fun, but not like this. This was the pulse of music in her veins, the smell of salt and charred, grilled foods, the cold tartness of a caipirinha in her hands as Blake passed her a drink from a stall under a beach umbrella. This was warm and alive and exhilarating as she pressed the cup against her to keep it from being jostled and a cold drip of condensation snaked down her stomach with a thrill.
There were all sorts of platforms with bands and performers set up along the stretch of beach, as well as trucks and vans with sound systems on top and people setting up right on the sidewalk along the sand. One sound merged into the next as they walked from stage to stage, carried by the surge of the crowd and the driving, rhythmic beat.
And everywhere the sea of sweaty, gyrating bodies illuminating the ocean and the sand, millions of bright, breathing things swaying and churning with one pulse.
One caipirinha was replaced with another, and more food from the stalls, and soon she and Blake were dancing on the beach, bodies pressed together, his bare chest glistening with sweat as he guided her hips to move with his to the frenzied beat. If only the clubs in Chicago were like this, Julia thought—Liz might actually succeed in getting her to go more often.
They danced barefoot in a throng of people, and then a circle spread, and they were clapping along with everyone else as one by one dancers entered the center of the circle and performed the fluid, powerful motions of capoeira, a martial-arts based dance that took Julia’s breath away. The dancers were incredible, something between hip-hop and break dancing and karate. They flipped from their feet onto their hands and back again, moving low and circling each other, building up a competition between each dancer who took to the center of the circle. They clapped and cheered and egged the dancers on, sweaty and breathless, and when that circle broke up, another formed, and then another, so that the whole beach was one surging group of dancers finding their own ways to move.