“Yeah?” The skin between his eyebrows lined as deep as I’d ever seen it go. Understandably so. When it came to that piece of our relationship, I’d never been one to hit the brakes. Or I hadn’t been until last night.
“Forgetting a certain bet you made with a certain someone?”
Jesse grimaced. “I was about point two seconds away from forgetting my first name.”
That would make two of us.
“Come on, Rowen. He won’t know. I won’t tell, you won’t tell, and even if he did find out, who cares? It’s just some stupid bet.”
“Some stupid bet you agreed to with a guy I can’t let win at anything. It’s in my genetic code or something.”
He sighed. “Just forget I ever mentioned it. There’s no bet. I don’t even know a guy who would be so idiotic to enter into such a bet.” Jesse’s arms tightened around me, pulling me back into position. “I need to be close to you, Rowen.”
“It feels more like you really need to be close to me,” I said, gliding my hand down him. His eyes might have rolled back in his head. I jolted when Jesse’s finger slid just inside my bottoms, circling a certain spot.
“And it feels like you need to be really, really close to me.”
I didn’t have a single doubt if I flat-out told Jesse I wasn’t in the mood to have sex, he would have backed off immediately. He would have switched from high-drive to being happy making out or just lounging beside me. He’d never forced, guilted, or manipulated me into having sex, and I knew he never would. His tortured look and reaction was a result of him wanting to have sex with me. Wanting and waiting.
The thing was, I really wanted to have sex with him. He’d been correct when he said really, really. It wasn’t just about satisfying an overwhelming desire either, though that was present. It was about feeling his love. It was about feeling the physical expression of love that was for no one’s eyes but ours. It was about me worshipping him and him worshipping me, and the two of us finding a release together that we couldn’t experience apart. At least not in the same way.
It was about being in the moment, and living that moment to its fullest. It was about feeling infinite in those few moments we rarely got to share together due to location and obligation. It was about loving each other in such a way we could have been drowning in it.
“Hold that thought.” I lifted my finger as my desperate mind searched for a solution to the whole “bet” mess.
Jesse gave me a look as I swam the opposite direction of where he obviously wanted me to be going. “Looks like I’ll be holding something.”
I tried to stifle my laugh, but I guess I wasn’t really up to the task of stifling. “Just a minute. I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ll just be here. Wet. Naked.” Jesse moved into shallower water so I had a nice view of that wet nakedness. “Ready.” Turning to face me, he gave me another view of the “ready” part.
I glanced away and swallowed the flames crawling up my throat. “Well, it looks like you’ll have plenty to entertain yourself with while I’m gone.”
“I’d rather have you entertain myself,” he called before I dropped below the surface.
I wasn’t a good swimmer. Decent sure, but I wouldn’t have received any medals for form. Speed, however, was a different story. Especially when the faster I swam, the faster I’d be able to get back to what I was practically trembling to get back to.
Another flash of the wet nakedness waiting for me fifty yards back urged me ahead even faster. The threesome Jesse and I had escaped from were spread out on the dock, soaking in some sun. Josie and Jolene were sharing a towel, and Garth was sprawled out on the splintery wood.
“Hey, Black!” I hollered when I was a dozen strokes back.
“Hey what?” he replied, sitting up. He was still in his tight, black jeans. Even his belt buckle was still in place.
“Forget your swimming trunks?”
“No. I don’t wear trunks, shorts, or anything else that might think it’s okay to go above my ankle. I’m a cowboy, god dammit. We don’t wear shorts. Might want to relay that to the swim short wonder over there in the trees. What a disgrace.”
“As much fun as this little spat could be—because, come on, you and I know we could go on and on about this real cowboys don’t wear shorts thing—I’m kind of pressed for time.” Pressure definitely had something to do with me searching out Garth. Swimming up beside him, I crossed my arms over the dock and met his stare. “I need you to do something for me.”
Garth smiled like the Grinch hatching his Christmas Eve plan of terror. “I’d ask what that favor would be, but given you’re still topless and I’m guessing the poser in hiding’s probably lost his shorts, I think I know what’s on your mind. Plus, you’ve got that general look about you that says your head’s going to explode if you don’t get a little vitamin J in you soon.”
I splashed Garth in the face, thankful Josie and Jolene had their earbuds in. At least they were able to block out the filth that came from Garth’s mouth. “Cuss, already. You know you want to. I can tell from that look on your face that says your head’s going to explode if you don’t scream a FUCK YOU! at the world soon.”
Hearing those two words, Garth almost sighed in contentment, followed by a small tremble. Probably from withdrawal. “Now why would I want to do that when I’d say you and Jesse are about one bikini bottom of restraint away from giving me the win?”
“Cuss, Garth.”
“No.”
“Garth . . .”
“Rowen,” he deadpanned back. “Either go enjoy Jesse or yourself because I am not losing this close to the end. I cuss now, and two weeks of not cussing will be for nothing. I’m not losing because not only would the losing part suck, but then you two would celebrate your win by playing hide the snake. Where’s the fairness in all that?”
“Garth . . .” My nails were digging into my palms so hard I had to be close to drawing blood.
“Rowen,” he mimicked, sticking out his tongue.
“Dammit! Why do you have to be so difficult?”
“Are you looking for an actual explanation? Or was that one of those rhetorical questions?”
Unbelievable. He was smiling, all calm like.
“That was an I-don’t-care-why-you’re-so-difficult-just-show-me-how-I-can-beat-it-out-of-you kind of question.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m fresh out of I-give-a-darn. Why don’t you check back next century?” Garth tilted his head and waved.
“Fuck you.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “My, oh, my. You suck your boyfriend with that filthy mouth?”
That earned him another splash. “Go to hell, Black.”
“Lucky Jesse,” Garth said with a wink.
I was obviously getting nowhere with Garth. Actually, I was obviously getting somewhere—backwards. Not the direction I’d been hoping to go. Taking a handful of slow, not-quite-soothing breaths, I decided to do something high on my list of Never Want to Do: swallow my pride in front of Garth Black. The one thing higher on that list? Delaying sex with Jesse Walker.
“Please?” Yeah, it was as hard as I imagined it would be. Just one word in and it had already singed my throat. “From one misunderstood, glass-half-empty misfit to another . . . please?”
The cocky smile fell right off Garth’s face. It was working. My momentary lapse into sincerity was doing exactly what I hoped it would do: throw Garth for a loop. He studied my face for a few more seconds, trying so hard to glare at me his brow almost broke out in a sweat. Then he let out one long sigh, slid his hat low on his brow, and shook his head. “You women and your pouty faces are going to be the death of me.”
“Was that what I thought it was?” I bit my lip to keep my excitement contained.
“Yeah, it was. That was me slitting my own throat when I had my opponent right where I wanted him. That was one misfit taking one for the misfit team.”
I’d known it all along. I forgot it along the way sometimes, but Garth wasn’t the hard shell of a man he liked us all to believe he was.