Blue Crush (17 page)

No, I’m not okay. That was incredibly sexy. Is he trying to kill me? “Where are we going?”

He takes my hand again. “Walking.”

“Just walking?” Shit, where did that come from? Why is my head constantly in the gutter around him?

He grins, sliding his free hand to my lower back until he’s guiding me. “Zach mentioned he told you we’re part Washoe. How much do you know about our tribe?”

They talked about me when I wasn’t around? “Nothing.”

He nods, the noise from the party subsiding to a low murmur as we move farther down the beach. “Up until a couple hundred years ago, the Washoe migrated during the summer to Lake Tahoe. They came here.”

I point to the sand. “Here?”

He smiles. “Maybe. Camp Richardson is in an area where they used to gather. They collected winter reserves from the lake and plants, and mingled.” Emphasis on
mingled
.

“What kind of mingling?”

“Visiting old friends, games, races … canoodling.”

“Canoodling? That’s a very mature word.”

He gives me a sidelong smile and leans down until his mouth is right above my ear, his breath heating my skin. “I’m a mature kind of guy.”

Yes, yes he is. Which is different from most guys his age, or any man I’ve ever known. I wait a beat until I’m sure my voice won’t waver. “What kind of canoodling are we talking about?”

His gaze flickers in the direction of the party. It’s barely audible from this distance, a faint glow across the sand and shore marking its location. “Not much was allowed before marriage, but if it had been, the gatherings probably would have looked a lot like what’s going on back there. Flirting, and other stuff.”

“Other stuff?”

“Only on a more serious level.” He gestures behind us. “In there, people maneuver for intimacy.” How polite of him. I would have used a different word. “My ancestors were looking for spouses. They exchanged gifts between families when an agreement was made.”

“Ah, the old gifts in exchange for a bride. Did the bride’s family hand over cattle as a dowry?”

“Marriages were all mutually agreed upon, but …” He grins boyishly. “Rabbit, pine nuts, maybe an antelope or two—no cattle around back then.”

“Exactly what a lady wants,” I say, exaggerating, a smile on my face. “A dowry of rabbits really boosts a lady’s self-esteem.”

He laughs and the pleasure that courses through me at the sound is like a drug. I want more. I want to make him happy and have him laugh with me all the time. “Hey, rabbits and pine nuts were like gold back then. And the gift exchange went both ways. The groom’s family gave up prime pine nuts with their men.”

“Okay, we need to end this conversation right now. It’s degraded to a topic about men and nuts, and can only go downhill from here.”

Lewis chuckles and turns up the bank to a log thicker than the both of us. He takes off his coat and lays it in front on the sand. “Sit?”

“On your suit? Don’t you want to wear it again?”

His eyes sparkle. He rubs the chin I’m intimately aware has a light bristle and glances down my body. “After you’ve sat on it. Yes.”

My face heats. Where did this naughty Lewis come from? He doesn’t throw sexual innuendo around willy-nilly, and it’s incredibly hot.

Canoodling.

I plop my ass on the coat and tuck my legs to the side.

He sits beside me and leans back as if to gaze at the dark water, but watches me instead. “What happened at the cascades? Why did you push me away?”

My attraction buzz dies a quick death.

I cross my arms over my middle as if to protect myself from the truth, but the topic can’t be avoided forever. “You called me Genevieve.”

He says nothing, waiting.

Waves on the lake reflect light from the moon like metallic shards, sharp and jagged. “No one calls me Genevieve, except my mom. Drake learned I’m a Genevieve instead of a Jennifer when we first met. That’s all he’s ever called me. When you and I were together, I heard him say it instead of you.” I brush grains of sand off the edge of his coat and scoot back until my rear hits the log. “You caught me off guard, is all.”

His silence has me worried and I glance over. “Try it,” I tell him.

“Try what?”

“My name.”

He drops his head back until it rests against the tall log. “Genevieve.” His voice is low and seductive without trying, and my gaze lands on his mouth.

“See?” I clear my throat. “Nothing happened. The only thing I was thinking about was the way you said it.”

His head tips forward, eyes focused on my face. “How did I say your name?”

“Sexy.”

“Hmmm. Last time I was touching you when I said it. Maybe we should perform an experiment.”

I laugh because it’s such a guy thing to suggest. I’ve never seen this side of Lewis, the playful, flirty side. “What did you have in mind?”

He runs a warm hand down my bare arm. I’ve been so focused on him, I didn’t notice how effing cold it is.
“Genevieve,”
he emphasizes and inches closer, “are you cold?”

I shiver at the sound of his voice, low and gruff. “Yes.” I follow his lead and press my side against his.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders. “How’s this? Experiment going okay so far,
Genevieve
?”

The deep rumble of his voice when he utters my name, and his full, sensual mouth with the naughty scar at the corner that stands out like one of the slivers of the moon on the water, are mind-numbingly hot. “Good. We’re good.”

He tilts my jaw up, brushing my lips with his. “
Genevieve,
you taste good.”

I’m about to tell him he does too, when his mouth returns and I lose track of my thoughts, our tongues tangling. He pulls me close and I burrow into his chest, running my hands up and down his sides, over his stomach. His muscles tense.

He pulls away with a concerned look. “Genevieve—”

“Your experiment worked. I’m cured,” I whisper, busily pulling his shirt from his suit pants and kissing his neck.

I’ve fantasized about what lies beneath Lewis’s buttoned-up exterior, reaching the core of him. I love the heat in his eyes as he watches me. My fingers trail over the ridges of his stomach and he covers my mouth with his.

He leans me back, cradling my head above the sand, and kisses me with a tenderness and heat that has my belly shooting sparks down my thighs. The bottom of my fitted dress cuts into my hips, making a northbound route to my waist. He feels so good above me, and by good, I mean
amazing.

I wrap my leg around the back of one of his and run my hands over the dip in his lower back. I squeeze his muscled ass.

“Gen …” His voice is deep and gravelly.

I lick the scar on the corner of his mouth—still haven’t figured out where he got it. Will investigate later. “Shhh, I’m busy,” I mumble as I run my lips over his chin, his jaw.

“It’s—we have to slow down.”

I lean back. “What’s wrong?” Am I coming on too strong? It would be a first, but given how I react to him, entirely possible.

He runs his hands over my waist, raising my thigh higher and brushing the sensitive underside with his fingers. “We should either slow down or stop. You have no idea how sexy you are. I’m trying to not take this places you’re not ready to go.”

He’s talking about sex? And he’s worried about what I want? I’ve never had a guy take things slow. They’re usually trying to see how far they can get.

Is this some kind of reverse psychology? Let’s test the theory. “Okay.”

He kisses me, slow and tender, then pulls away.

Huh?
“Wait—” My thought gets cut off because there’s a massive breeze in places usually covered, and hello, my dress is hiked to my panties.

Lewis tugs down the fabric.

Did he just put my dress to rights? What kind of guy
is
he? “I mean, we could stop, if you want to,” I say, “but we don’t need to stop.”

His gaze is wary. “We should stop. We’re on the beach. There are people out.”

Just a dang minute,
I’m
the uptight prude. This sudden role reversal crap sucks. “Are you being modest?”

His gaze turns heated. “With my body? No. With yours? I don’t want any guy seeing it, or having thoughts about it, or watching what we do together. I want that to be private and between the two of us. And I want to do it all, just so you know. So when you’re ready—really ready—tell me.”

Well, shit.

Lewis hands me back my shoes. Once I get them on, he pulls me up, dusts off his coat, and slips it over my shoulders. We return to the party and I’m so deep in thought trying to figure out what just happened, I don’t immediately notice the eyes on us.

Tyler’s face is a shade darker than normal, his gaze narrowed as if he’s angry. “Where the hell did you go? You can’t just leave the party without telling me, Gen. I thought some dickhead—” He glares at Lewis, who rests his arm over my shoulders. “—snuck off with you.”

Technically, a guy did sneak off with me, but I think Tyler meant without my permission. And yes, that’s a frightening thought, given my close encounters with dickheads of late.

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I should have told you.”

Tyler huffs out a sigh through his nose and runs a hand through his hair, ruffling the mass of dark reddish-brown waves in all directions. He stalks to the drink station.

I’m an asshole. I knew Tyler was looking out for me at the party and I took off without saying anything. Where was my head?

Nessa walks up. “It’s not your fault. He was angry before you returned.”

I glance at Tyler warily. He’s taking a shot of something that looks like it’s gonna hurt tomorrow. “Why?”

Nessa’s gaze sways toward Mira without actually landing on her.

This is the first I’ve seen of Mira all night. I didn’t even know she was here. She’s chatting with a girl I’ve never met and stealing glances at Lewis, who’s watching the dance floor, pretending not to notice. “Mira? What does Mira have to do with Tyler being mad?”

Nessa wobbles a little as she pulls me to the side, the light scent of floral perfume and champagne wafting off her. “He was worried when he couldn’t find you, but he only just realized you were missing. Before that” —I lean in— “Mira arrived.” She cringes. “You know how they say
instant attraction?
It was like hate at first sight. Tyler’s gaze narrowed on Mira. In response, she gave him one of the nastiest looks I’ve ever seen, and this is Mira. She invented deadly glares.” Nessa shakes her head. “How can two beautiful people hate each other so quickly? Have they met before?”

Have they? Tyler grew up in Lake Tahoe with Cali, and he’s only a couple of years older. “I don’t know.”

Tyler white-knuckles the bar, then spins around, weaving slightly. His face is still flushed. He completely ignores Mira as he walks past her to me. “Let’s go.”

“Okay …” I glance at Lewis.

“You need a ride?” Lewis offers, reading my thoughts.

“Ye—”

“No,” Tyler says.

I lean in and lower my voice. “You can’t drive. You’ve had too much to drink.”

“You haven’t.”

True. I’m searching for some reason to remain with Lewis, but that’s not practical with Tyler’s car here—or an angry Mira nearby.

“I’ll drive us home,” I tell Lewis.

He levels an annoyed look at Tyler and pulls me close. “He shouldn’t drink if he’s driving you. Are you sure you’ll be safe with him? You’re comfortable with his car?”

“I’m completely safe, and I borrowed his car when mine died.”

Mira sidles up to Lewis and throws her hair over her shoulder in Tyler’s direction like a bullfighter with a cape.

Tyler takes a tight breath and grabs my hand, jerking us toward the exit.

Lewis frowns.

Jogging on tiptoes in my heels to keep up, I wave good-bye.

“Tyler, what the hell?” I say after we exit the boathouse.

He doesn’t answer, but he slows his pace until we reach the car. He unlocks the doors, then hands me the keys. It takes me a minute to adjust the mirrors and figure out what I’m doing. It’s a good thing I’ve driven his car before, because it’s about thirty years old and not easy to maneuver.

I pull onto the highway and shift until we’re cruising. Tyler looks out the window, tension radiating off him. Those shots did nothing to loosen him up. “Tyler, what is wrong?” He doesn’t answer me and now I’m getting pissed. “Do you know Mira, or something?”

He squeezes his thigh above the knee. “I know her.”

“Okay, ’cause it seemed like you guys were angry at each other.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as if he swallowed something large. “There’s nothing to be angry about. I just don’t like her.”

Tyler’s pretty easygoing when it comes to women,
easy
being the operative word. According to Cali, he’s a manwhore. The way he acted with Nessa tonight, all flirty and fun, is how I’ve seen him the few times we’ve hung out. This anger at Mira doesn’t fit. “So, what did she do to make you hate her?”

He looks over, annoyed. “I don’t hate her—and it’s not worth talking about.”

“I don’t blame you for not liking Mira. She puts people off sometimes, but did she do something specific?” Even considering how Lewis helped Mira when she was young, her obsession with him is unnatural. Has she had this kind of obsession before? With Tyler?

“I didn’t say she did anything. We just—we knew each other in high school.”

Interesting. I got the sense Mira didn’t interact with people outside her circle. “So, you don’t hate her. She hasn’t done anything. But you don’t like her—and you knew her in high school … Exactly how well did you know her?”

His shoulders tense, his jaw clenching. “I’m not getting into this. Drop it, okay?”

I shake my head, exasperated. This brother stuff is more of a pain than it’s worth. “I guess.”

But I don’t believe for one second there’s nothing between Mira and Tyler. Seems like there is a lot between them none of us know about.

Lewis calls the next day—morning, to be exact.

“Ellow?”

A deep chuckle rumbles on the other end of my cell phone. “Gen?”

I sit up and swipe hair out of my mouth. “Yes?” I check the time. Seven. What the …?

“Are you awake?”