Scared of Forever (Scared #2) (10 page)

“Incestuous—” he
begins. “Being so close or intimate as to prevent proper
functioning, or the act of sexual impurity.”

I blush furiously.
Tyler moves over a few spaces and grins at me teasingly. “There,
the dictionary tells me to not sit too close to you, seeing as how
your proximity to me rattles you and impairs your proper functioning,
owing to all of your sexually impure thoughts.”

“Very funny,” I
laugh, rolling my eyes. “My mind is extremely chaste, thank you!”

“Now look who’s
lying and flirting,” he laughs.

I would have smacked
him in the arm for that one, but I’d have to reach too far.

Tyler’s company is
pleasant, and it’s almost impossible not to relax when I’m with
him. We ease into a comfortable silence, enjoying the spectacular
view ahead. We do occasionally talk, but for many moments, we just
stare at the water. The waves lap rhythmically against the sandy
flatland, making a soft
whooshing
sound as they return to the abyss of the ocean. The sound is the same
as holding a seashell to your ear. A light wind eventually picks up,
and the soft sound of the waves is joined with the rustling of the
large tufts of swamp grass, which bend and bow under Mother Nature’s
touch. There is no smog, no noise, no cars, and no people. There is
nothing around to destroy this absolutely ethereal scene.

We eat our humble lunch
of the makeshift cheese sandwiches, and then proceed to taste the
twelve different flavored French macaroons, one by one. Not
surprisingly, I’m partial to the double chocolate, cookies and
cream, and vanilla bean varieties. Tyler raves on about the exotic
ones: mango, passion fruit, and wild lychee. We wash it all down with
what I thought would be coffee, but isn’t. It’s a decadent and
rich hot chocolate. I fall over laughing when Tyler takes a big bite
of his half of the lemon sorbet flavored macaroon and promptly
scrunches his face up ridiculously. The day is simple, uncomplicated.
Easy
.

“So, are you staying
around for a while?” I politely pry, realizing that I quite enjoy
being in Tyler’s company. As far as future brother-in-laws go, I
think I may have hit the jackpot.

“A few more weeks,”
he says, hitching his leg up to rest his chin on.
He’s
so different from Blake.
They both are gorgeous, but in
opposite ways. Blake is organized, intent on planning for forever,
sure about what he wants; driven. Tyler is carefree, and doesn’t
strike me as the kind of person who plans for what to do the next
day, let alone the distant future. He’s impulsive and kind, both
evident by the sweet fire in his eyes as he looks out towards the
beach.

I shake myself out of
the thought pattern. It’s not appropriate for me to entertain such
a romantic comparison of the Carson brothers, even mentally.

“I have a job in Rio,
at Carnivale,” he says.

“Rio de Janiero?” I
ask, amazed.

“Uh huh. It should be
fun,” he says with a sly grin.

“What’s not to love
about Rio at Carnivale? I hear it’s full of booze, parties, bright
colors, and thongs,” I laugh. “Just the scene for a single guy.”
I feel a strange pang of jealousy as the words leave my mouth, and I
ponder the thought further.
How
completely ludicrous am I?

“Believe it or not,
this is my first urban job, ever,” he says seriously. “The jobs I
have had so far have been very isolated, most really exotic. The last
job I took was in the Serengeti. I lived in a tent for a large part
of it, with bottled water, no bathrooms, and no doors. And yeah, most
places I go have got their fair share of hot women. I’m never in
one place long enough to enjoy anything, though.”

“I don’t mean to
change the subject to something so much less pleasant,” I say
tentatively. “But can I ask you something?”

“As long as it has
nothing to do with Blake or my mother,” he says, meeting my eyes.

I look down awkwardly.
“It does, actually,” I say quietly.

Tyler lets out a sigh.
“I don’t have a very good relationship with either of them. So
you need to understand that it’s almost impossible for me to be
impartial with my answers. But I’ll answer almost anything you ask,
because I think you deserve to know as much as possible about the
family you are marrying into.”

“What happened with
you and Blake?” I say simply.

“Well, Blake has
hated me ever since high school, when I may or may not have told the
entire school that his nickname was BJ, standing for Blake John. Of
course I extended the nickname to blowjob, in my adolescent level of
sophistication. And his first girlfriend, Amy, dumped him because she
said it was embarrassing to date a boy whose name was synonymous with
such a gross sexual act. In teenager speak, of course.” Tyler
laughs, shaking his head at the memory.

I punch him lightly in
the shoulder. “That’s mean. You were a bully,” I scold. “Be
serious.”

“We had a fight over
a girl,” Tyler says, looking down at the weathered wood.

“Must have been some
girl,” I say quietly.

“For me, not really.
Her name is Aria. Her and I met at a slam poetry reading about two
years ago, and kind of hooked up. She’s a tattoo artist. That’s
how I got most of these.” Tyler leans forward and pulls up his
shirt, revealing a series of intricate tattoos down the right side of
his back and around his right side.

I briefly glance at the
tattoos, but my eyes wander to the defined muscles in Tyler’s back.
The way his torso is broad and strong at the top, and then tapers
down towards his midsection. The muscles across his shoulder blades
flex beautifully as his arms hold his shirt up. I can’t look away.
I try my damndest, but to no avail. It takes all of my will to keep
my hand from reaching up to touch his beautiful body. Run my fingers
across the ridges. Memorize each crevice and tiny imperfection.

He drops his shirt and
turns to face me again. I snap my jaw shut just in time. Hopefully
there are no errant drops of drool around my lips.

“Blake saw the tats
one day and wanted one, so I took him to the shop where Aria worked.
Aria is beautiful, in a dark and enchanting way. She has a lot of
tattoos, obviously, and piercings too, but she is beautiful. The
minute Blake saw her, he was hooked. I saw the look in his eyes.”

Tyler adjusts his
position. “So, I thought Aria and I had a thing. Nothing serious.
But in reality, the thing was actually between her and Blake. One
night, I had said I’d swing by her place to hang out. I opened the
door with the spare key, but it turns out that Aria already had plans
with my brother.”

“Were you angry?” I
ask.

He takes a breath. “I
didn’t really care. I mean, her and I were not at all serious, like
I said. But Blake did. He came at me in a rage. Told me to stay the
fuck away from
his girl
.
He lost it. I fought him back. We both ended up in the ER needing
stitches. We haven’t really spoken since,” Tyler says absently,
as if lost in the memory.

“Blake hasn’t ever
mentioned that girl to me before. Then again, Blake had never
mentioned you, either. Or much of anything that happened before me,”
I say, a pang of jealousy rising in my chest. Blake had obviously
really cared for that girl. That explains why seeing me with Tyler
the other day had affected him the way it did.

“What happened to
them?” I ask, feeling stupid for being so obviously insecure about
this subject.

“I don’t know,”
Tyler shrugs. “I know Eliza hated her, and Blake always does what
our mother says, so—I guess he didn’t care about her as much as I
thought he did. I mean, he still has his money.”

I look out distractedly
at the ocean ahead. The Blake I am engaged to is slowly disappearing
in my mind, and being replaced by a complete and utter stranger.
A
stranger I don’t think I want to know.

“Hey,” Tyler says
softly, laying a hand on mine. “I’m sure that you have nothing to
worry about. Blake has you. He’d be a fool to look anywhere else.”
For a moment he looks directly at me.
Into
me. His eyes are so filled with warmth and concern. For a moment, I
can’t steal mine away. We stay like that, transfixed to that one
moment in time. Until I avert my eyes guiltily away.

“We probably should
head back soon,” I say. Between the amazing scenery, the fantastic
company, and the gorgeous specimen of man a half a foot away in this
isolated part of the world, this has all the makings of a disaster
waiting to happen. “But before that, can we walk along the beach?”
I don’t really want this day to end. But the fact is that I still
have a fiancée, soon to be on his way home from work. That’s where
my commitment lays. Tyler and I walk down the path, past the
makeshift fence, onto the softer, moist sand. The sea breeze sends
damp particles of stray sand stinging against my bare arms.

The sun has moved much
closer to the edge of the horizon now, the water ahead sparkling with
beautiful iridescence in its presence. Tyler puts an arm around my
shoulder, very platonically, upon seeing me shiver. It
was
platonic.

Until he kissed me.

I planned on being home
sooner. I
had
actually worked late today. Today it was the truth, not an
embellishment or excuse. I had, however, spent the last hour on the
phone with Aria, trying to make peace. Finally, I had to promise to
see her soon, and when I was satisfied that she still loved me, I
ended the call. It’s amazing how the two women I’m caught between
are so completely different. I consider, on the way home, if I can
really see myself spending the rest of my life with Aria, who is so
volatile, so independent and self-assured.

Then there’s Emily,
who’s not obstructive, easy going, and not at all argumentative.
Forever would be much more pleasant if I spent it with Emily. I
decide that I’m going to consciously try to end things with Aria
and focus on Emily.
But not
today
. Not until I’m ready.
If
I’ll ever be ready?

Arriving home, I see
Tyler’s Jeep and motorbike both parked in their spaces, which can
only mean that the asshole’s still here.
When the fuck is he going to fly away already?

When I walk in the
door, Emily is laying across the chaise in the living room, reading a
book. Placing my keys on the hook, I walk over and kiss her on her
forehead. She looks startled, almost skittish.
That’s
new
. “Hi,” I say softly. “Everything okay?”

“Better, now that
you’re home.” She says, pulling me forward and bringing her lips
crashing over mine, hard and hungry. I wonder briefly where this
sexual ferocity is coming from. But there is no way I plan on arguing
or refusing it.

Emily turns her body to
face me, eyes level with my crotch. I straighten upright as she
quickly undoes my belt buckle. Wordlessly. She slips my pants to my
ankles. My thighs tense in anticipation. The thought does cross my
mind, that since I’ve walked in, she has avoided my eyes
completely.

A new thought flashes
through my mind.
I used to do
that.
When I came home to Emily after seeing Aria. The
guilt would cause me to avert my eyes habitually. The shame wouldn’t
allow me to look at her directly. I was fearful that she would see
straight through my lies. But I brush the notion aside. This is
Emily,
my
Emily.
She’s not an adulterer. Not a cheater.
Not
like me
.

She takes me into her
mouth in one perfectly executed, fluid movement. Deep. My back arches
in response, and a guttural moan escapes me. I grab Emily’s head
and push her mouth deeper and harder against me. I want to fill her
mouth till she can’t take anymore. Her hands clasp my rock solid
shaft and slide up and down leisurely. Hard, intent, but also with
such tenderness and affection. She leans back. My dick feels cold in
the absence of Emily’s warm mouth. I kick my pants away from my
ankles and walk around the lounge to my beautiful, waiting fiancée.

The long silk robe
she’s wearing slides, as if on cue to the side, revealing, well,
nothing. Nothing except bare, beautiful skin. Bare, beautifully perky
breasts. Bare, beautiful thighs.
All
mine, on display for me alone to enjoy.
The lust rising
within me, I want Emily, and my need for her consumes me. I lean in
to her, pinning her arms on both sides of her head with mine.

She manages to writhe
against me and free her arm. All the while, her eyes don’t leave
mine. Pure defiance. I’m shocked when she pulls me down and I land
with an ungraceful thud against the chaise. In less than a
millisecond, Emily climbs on top of me, pulling my arms so they grip
tightly around her waist.