Love Untouched (Unexpected) (11 page)

“And?” Her light blonde eyebrows rose. Her eyelashes had gotten wet, and the effect of her wet look was sultry. “Just because he’s a swimmer doesn’t mean I’m a swimmer, too.”

“Well, yes. But the least he could have done is teach you.”

She stroked her fingertips through her hair. Her eyes, made bluer by the reflection of the water, looked up at me, and she lightly replied, “I wasn’t really a water-loving child. I loved being in the kitchen more than anything else. My parents enrolled me in swimming lessons but I never really learned. Then one day, Ava and I were at the beach with her family. She’s a good swimmer and all of a sudden, I wanted to learn how to swim. I asked my brother to teach me…but it was too late. He tried but he couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t?” I was full of repetitive questions but there was no other way for me to satisfy my curiosity. My body was as close to her as I could get without making her feel like I was crowding her. The sound of someone mowing the lawn was faint in the background, the sun was slowly setting in the West, and it was just the two of us. So much has happened within the space of eight and a half hours. The long drive from Arizona to here, with limited stops in between, the undeniable attraction between us was palpable, especially in the car. Me telling her about Ace, and her almost fleeing from me before finally agreeing to stay, this was a turning point, I realized. In swimming, it was coming off a turn, kicking back from the wall, and trying to get to the finish line.

She reached for my hand and guided me towards her body. Her back was facing me when she had stripped off her clothes earlier. I was not able to fully appreciate what was in front of me until now. Her breasts were perfect, not too big, not too small. Most likely a 34C. I was acquainted with women’s bra cup sizes. I had three brothers. Two older, Zachariah and Jonas, both perverts, who used to order Victoria’s Secret catalogs under my father’s name when Zach was thirteen, and had a revolving subscription to Sports Illustrated, Playboy, or Maxim. My younger brother, Matthieu, was a jackass and a caricature of my older brothers. He was a typical football player, a jock and went after all the cheerleaders. I should send him to Zander so he could learn the right ways of being a pro football player. One who stuck with one girl and didn’t stray.

Brynn opened both of my palms up and glided them from her neck down to the lower part of her ribcage. Her eyes didn’t stray from mine, as she asked, “Do you feel it?”

Yes, I felt it. This stark, naked feeling of desire for a woman I was not supposed to have.

“I feel it Brynn.” My eyes flared with unmitigated desire. I dipped my head down to reach for her mouth but she lowered her face to look at our entangled hands.

“No Kieran,” she responded, determinedly. “Feel my skin.”

I refocused on her words, and I felt them. One, two, three of them. She guided my right hand to rest a few inches below her heart, and I felt another one. They were of varied textures - undulated, hardened, fibrous tissue against my skin.

“Can I look?” I asked, wanting to verify what I had felt with my hands.

Since we were standing in the shallow part of the pool, the tops of our bodies were above water. I sank down, almost to my knees, and lowered my head to look at what I had felt. The underwater swimming pool lights had switched on so I was able take in with my eyes what I had roughly felt with my hands.

There they were. Sitting on the lower part of the right side of her stomach were white scars, hypo-pigmented against her fair skin. They were raised, about one or two inches in diameter, and situated closely together, forming an imperfect circle.

“I couldn’t eat so they had to put a feeding tube through my stomach.” Her voice was calm as she explained what I was seeing. “I had them for months and when one of them got clogged and infected, they removed it and started another one... and another one.”

“This?” I asked, still trying to make sense of what she was revealing to me. My hand was now below her heart. A long, scarred tissue marred her perfect skin.

“They opened me up there because I had a bacteria that grew on my skin and it almost killed me. It was months before they could close this.” I could tell she was not sad. She was making me understand what the scars were from without even a hint of melancholy. “My body’s not perfect Kieran. I am all scarred up, but I am not ashamed. I can’t swim and not because I didn’t want to, I just couldn’t. I was too weak in the hospital to even stand on my own feet during chemotherapy. While my brother was winning swim meets, I was trying to win for him too. I was fighting for my life.” This time, tears pooled in her eyes and streamed down her face. I reached out to touch her, but she stopped me with her hand.

Her voice didn’t waver as she continued, “Our parents died from a boating accident when I was eight. Milo had barely turned ten. We lived with our Aunt Margie, my mom’s only sister and our godmother. She had custody of us. Then, when I was ten, Aunt Margie almost went to jail and we were going to be taken by Children’s Services because she had to keep taking me to the ER, and I had all these bruises on my skin. Milo and I were loved by Aunt Margie. It was such a difficult time because we didn’t know what was happening with me. I had all these bruises, with no one ever laying a hand on me. Finally, a doctor figured it out and I was diagnosed with osteosarcoma. The bruising was part of my disease. My right leg kept swelling up and I was in a lot pain. A month after my diagnosis, I was lucky to be able to get into a research trial for a new chemotherapy drug. Because it was a research drug, Aunt Margie, the nurses, and the medical team kept me prepared to go into surgery, knowing if the drug didn’t work the cancer could spread into my bones and nerves. The drug worked, though, and after being in the hospital for over a year, the bone biopsy and scan showed that I was cancer-free. I’ve been in remission for years now. So, there you have it, Kieran. My body’s nothing compared to yours. I look at you, and you’re perfection. No scars.”

I touched my lips to the scar closest to her heart then proceeded to kiss the others. She had scars, true. But the woman that she was now, with all the trials that she has been through- she was perfection. Absolute perfection.

Her breath hitched and her eyes changed into a deeper blue when I continued kissing her stomach as I looked up at her. I said slowly, enunciating every word, sending my message clear, “Your scars, Brynn. They are beautiful.”

She shook her head, trying to push me away from her.

Remembering her earlier request, I stood up to my full height. “I’ll teach you how to swim, on one condition.”

Her gaze searched my face.

“You have to be naked when I teach you. No clothing touching your skin. No swimsuits. No bra and panties.” I hoped my voice didn’t betray the arousal that was fully evident underneath my wet boxers, because as much as I wanted to relieve my body inside of hers, I really wanted her to learn how to swim. “I want to feel everything, Brynn. Don’t hide your body from me.”

Her face dawning with understanding, she inquired, “But if I am naked, won’t that distract you?”

“You distract me whether you are naked or not. I will teach you, and after our swimming lessons for the next couple of days, I promise you that you will be able to swim.” I stopped, choosing my words wisely. “But after our lessons, I want to learn every line on your body. You said your body’s nothing compared to mine. That’s true and thank goodness that’s the case. What you’re showing me, what you’re telling me, what you’re sharing with me makes me like you even more. You have scars on the outside, but your strength is infallible. Without your scars, you would not be standing in front of me right now. Without them, I wouldn’t have had the chance to know what an amazing person you are. Inside and outside. You are
absolute
perfection, Brynn.”

“I dream of being able to spend hours in the water.”

~J.R., age 7, Burkitt’s lymphoma

When a woman was naked with a man, there was only one thing that happened. Bodies connect at the primal level and well, things just happen. Nah-uh. Not with Kieran.

He was so business-like with me. Here I was, up at 9 o’clock in the morning after he dragged me into the pool. We slept in the same bed last night. Initially, he had offered me the other bedroom in the pool house. Apparently, the pool house was Kieran’s place at his parents’ sprawling estate. I called it an estate because there was no other way to describe the monstrosity of a house with an Olympic-sized pool, a tennis court, and yes, a massive garden filled with rare orchids and flowers. Kieran’s place was definitely an estate. When I asked Kieran what his parents did for a living, he shrugged his shoulders and said that his father was a lawyer and his mother was a retired pediatrician. Unless one or both of his parents were descendants of an oil tycoon or a railroad heir, there was no way a lawyer’s salary could pay for this. Kieran further explained that his father was a co-founding partner of the global law firm, Stone and Bentley, whose corporate clientele included luxury goods, top fashion brands, and retail companies.

I had actually wished that Sedona would have told me just how wealthy Kieran’s family was, but would it have made a difference? Probably not. Kieran also made it sound like it was the most normal thing that he lived this luxurious life and this was the world to which he was accustomed.

During breakfast, we sat poolside eating the pancakes and waffles I made from their well-stocked pantry. Being in their kitchen was like a self-induced orgasm by itself. One day, if I won millions, I’d make an exact replica of their kitchen. He held my hand across the table. “I am fortunate to not want for material things Brynn. My parents gave me and my brothers everything we wanted: the latest toys, the latest gadgets, and the latest cars when we turned sixteen. But at a certain point, you get tired of all of that. The latest ‘in’ thing becomes a thing of the past. Swimming is the only thing in my life that’s made me work for something more. The second I hit the water, I feel like I can breathe again.”

He took deep, long breaths after that and just stared at me.

“You are so beautiful.” I blushed at his compliment and gave him a quick smile.

He turned his dark brown eyes on me. His dark blonde hair had that I-just-woke-up look, forming an unruly mess that made a girl like me want to fix it, and then make it messy again with my hands.

Last night, he thought he was being magnanimous when he offered the other bedroom in the pool house for me to sleep in. I could tell that he was not willing for me to take him up on the offer, so I took matters into my own hands. I asked him where he was sleeping. We went inside a smaller bedroom with dark blue walls, a large picture frame of an ocean hanging above a king-sized bed, with dark blue sheets and pillows. I quirked a brow at him, and asked, “You sleeping here?”

He nodded, his eyes filling with glee, and his dimples started to appear on both sides of his mouth.

I tapped my hands on the side of the bed closest to the door. “Well then, this is my side of the bed.”

His face broke into a full-on smile. He took two long strides to reach me, and scooped me up in his arms. I straddled his body and we started a heated battle of tongues and lips. I have learned that Kieran waited for my cues. He was not one to just take without asking. He waited for my signal, and once I gave him the green light, he took over. It was inevitable that we were going to be together. There was no way for the fire between us to be doused without exploring the attraction that crackled from the moment I first laid eyes on him.

His voice was husky and his eyes turned that almost-black pigment. He breathed out harshly, “Tell me you want this too Brynn.”

I pushed him down on the bed and kissed his open mouth in eager response. I nuzzled his neck and started working towards removing the red shirt that he had changed into after we had gotten out of the pool. He let me do what I wanted, as if he wanted me to just own his body. As soon as his shirt was off, I splayed my hands over his left shoulder. “Does this still hurt?” He has not mentioned anything about the pain over the past weeks.

“Same old but it goes away.” He has been doing more intense physical therapy sessions with his trainers and he knew when and how much to push his body so the shoulder pain would be manageable. I had a feeling it still bothered him but he was managing it. Otherwise, he would have said something about it. He was in regular communication with the team doctor. Kieran knew what his body needed so he could compete at the highest level; he would not ignore it if the pain were unbearable.

I traveled my mouth down the middle of his chest, and before I went any lower, I felt emboldened to ask, “Is it true?” while slowly unzipping his jeans.

His voice sounded laden with desire. “What’s true?”

I stopped a giggle that was bubbling in my throat. “That swimmer’s penises shrink in the water? From too much chlorine?”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” His hooded eyes were teasing, and his words spread out in harsh, short durations timed with his even breathing.