The Stillness Of You (22 page)

Even more
pathetic.

“
Dude!
Are you coming in or what?”

My parents were
long gone—thank God, since the two chicks in the pool were now
topless and I was guessing the bits of fabric that barely covered
their asses were coming off next.

Boone
grinned as he grabbed the little blonde closest to him and ran his
hands over her tits. “Lancaster. You don’t know what you’re
missing.”

I scowled and
cracked open a cold beer, but even the taste of good old Canadian
lager did nothing to improve my mood.

Jack Ryan
ran across the yard and belly flopped his six foot two inch body
into the pool sending up a huge spray of water. The girls squealed.
Bikini bottoms went flying in the air and I sank lower into my
chair as Jack and Boone got real busy with the tits and ass offered
up so easily. I knew the girls—professional puck bunnies—they were
a good time, but they were a good time that I had no interest in
anymore.

And even
that pissed me off. What the hell had Georgia done to me? Had she
cut my balls off like Boone’s ex?

I knew
she was hurting and dealing with some heavy shit but I was fucking
pissed that she wouldn’t let me in. We’d been seeing each other for
weeks now and I was no closer to knowing the real Georgia King,
than I’d been that first time I’d seen her in Matt’s
loft.

What the
hell did that say about what we had?

A tall
brunette, Cassidy, walked toward me, her fake tits barely covered
by the thin scraps of green triangles that passed as a bikini top.
Her body was rock hard, tanned, tattooed and pierced. I’d been up
close and personal with several of her piercings including the one
between her legs, but at the moment her predatory smirk was wasted
on me. I wasn’t interested in anything she had to offer.

“
Aren’t
you coming in?” Her voice was husky, rough, as if she’d downed a
bottle of Jack. I liked it. I always had. But right now? It was
about the only thing I liked.

I shook
my head and took another sip of my already warming beer. It was
close to four in the afternoon and still hotter than a
bitch.

She stopped
just in front of me, blocking my view of the pool and then knelt
between my legs, her eyes on my dick, her tongue running along her
bottom lip.

“Lancaster,”
she said softly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I
shrugged, but didn’t back off.

Slowly
she reached behind her back and seconds later tossed her top behind
me. My gaze dropped to her large, perfectly round tits and I can’t
lie, I felt the stirrings of something between my legs but fuck, I
didn’t want to suck on hard, fake breasts. I wanted Georgia. I
wanted her sweet face gazing down at me while I worshipped her body
with everything I had. I wanted
her
arms around me,
her
lips on me. No one else came
close, especially not some hard bodied puck bunny who’d fucked half
the guys on the Kings.

Two months ago
I would have been all over having a good time with Cassidy, but two
months ago I was a different guy. Two months ago was before
Georgia.

My scowl
deepened even as my breath hitched and the situation between my
legs sprang to life.

“This isn’t
going to happen, Cass.”

She
smiled, her eyes on my erection. “No?”

“I’m involved
with someone.”

“Really.”

“
Yeah.” I
shifted, uncomfortable as fuck.

“And where is
she?”

Cassidy’s hands
were now on my thighs, her scarlet tipped fingers edging toward my
dick and I knew if I didn’t do something she’d have her lips around
my cock in ten seconds flat.

I set my beer
on the table, removed her hands and pushed my chair back.

“
You’re
really going to turn down a blow job? For some girl who isn’t even
here with you? Are you kidding me?”

I stared
at her, pissed, horny as fuck, and aching for a girl who had walked
out of this house three days ago and hadn’t bothered to come
back.

I didn’t go after her.
Guilt washed over me at the thought. I
should have gone after her. Why the hell hadn’t I?

Cassidy studied
me for several seconds and then sat back on her haunches, not
caring that her tits were out or that her bikini bottoms did
nothing to hide what she had between her legs.

“You’re in love
with this girl.”

I was on
my feet and nearly knocked her over as I pushed past her. I didn’t
want to discuss Georgia with her or anyone else for that matter. I
glanced toward the pool. “Guys, I gotta do something. You know
where the beer and the food is.”

“
Where
the hell are you going, Lancaster?” Boone took enough time to drag
his mouth away from the girl in his arms to ask the question, but I
didn’t answer because I was already gone.

I stopped
long enough to pull on a T-shirt, grabbed my wallet, keys, and
cell, and was out the door in under a minute. I didn’t call
Georgia—I didn’t want her to blow me off—and if Joe was surprised
to see me trucking through the lobby he didn’t say so. He just
nodded and smiled and I kept going.

I still had the
key that Matt had given me, though I played it cool. I knocked and
waited. And then I knocked again but there was no answer.

I shoved
in the key and let myself in but the place looked deserted. It was
quiet. It was empty.

“Georgia?”

No answer.

Shit. I
never thought she wouldn’t be here but then again I wasn’t really
thinking, was I? Should I wait? I thought about it for a moment and
then moved through the loft, heading down the hall toward the
bedrooms. Her door was closed and I paused outside for moment
feeling like some screwed up stalker guy who was on the verge of
going crazy.

I knocked
again, “Georgia?”

And then opened
the door.

Her room
was dark, the blinds were drawn, but I saw her right away. She was
curled up in a ball in the middle of her bed, her long dark hair
spread out across her pillow, her hands fisted beneath her chin.
She faced me and I could tell she was asleep.

Shit. Was she
sick?

I crossed
the room and stopped beside the bed, my hands itching to touch her.
God, she looked like an angel. I don’t know how long I stood there
staring down at her. I only knew that I didn’t want to be anywhere
else. Not now. Not ever.

I doffed
my sandals and moved around the bed so that I could climb in behind
her. Once there, I pulled her close and for the first time since
she’d left my place I felt calm. I felt as if I was where I was
supposed to be—as if I was
with
who I was supposed to be with.

Summer
drifted into my nostrils and I inhaled her scent, burying my nose
in her hair because I couldn’t help myself. Her hair was damp as if
she’d showered not too long ago and her skin was soft. So damn
soft.

She shifted,
her sweet ass moving into my groin as if she was coming home and I
groaned, already hard and wanting her.

I tensed
a bit when she mumbled something, afraid I’d wake her—afraid she’d
freak out—but she settled into me and after a bit I relaxed. I
don’t know if it was the gentle sounds she made as she slept or the
warmth of her body, but I fell asleep and it was dark when I woke
up.

It took a few
moments to focus. Georgia wasn’t asleep anymore. She’d turned in my
arms and her expressive eyes were wide as she stared up at me.

I cleared
my throat and managed to speak. “Hey.” Not a great start but I
couldn’t think of anything else to say. All I could think about was
how amazing it felt to hold her again.

She exhaled
slowly, her finger tracing along my jaw in a way that had me hot
and anxious before she reached my mouth.

And then she
leaned forward and kissed me.

Georgia

I don’t
know why or how Ben ended up in my bed and I didn’t care.
I’d been holed up in Matt’s
loft for the last three days feeling sorry for myself. Too stupid
and too scared to call him back and apologize for freaking out and
leaving him the way I did.

Today had
been awful. The worst. I tried not to think about Ben and his
friends and a bunch of random girls at his place, mostly because I
knew what those girls were like. I’d seen carbon copies of them in
action and I knew exactly what they wanted. And I also knew that
most of the time they got it. What guy was going to turn down sex
with a Barbie doll?

But Ben
was here. In my bed. His body warm and hard and feeling so much
like home that I ached.

“Hey.” His
voice was husky and coated in sleep.

I traced
his jaw, loving the shadow of stubble beneath my fingers and when
he opened his mouth to say something else, I couldn’t help it. I
needed him. I needed to feel him. To touch him. To taste
him.

I slid my
lips against his and my heart rate shot up when he groaned and sank
his hands into my hair. His mouth opened beneath mine, hot and wet
and aggressive. He tasted like heaven and he felt so good that I
let the sensations of need and want roll over me. I welcomed the
familiar pangs of desire that erupted between my legs and sat low
in my belly.

My
nipples were hard, my breasts ached, and when his tongue slid into
my mouth—when he licked and suckled on my bottom lip as if he was
starving—I lost it. I fell down into the chasm that was Ben
Lancaster and I don’t think I cared if I ever made it back
out.

We kissed
forever it seemed, as if we were feeding on each other’s soul and
when we finally came up for air we were both breathing heavy.

His hands were
still tangled in my hair and Ben tilted my head back slightly,
tracing a line of fire down my neck where he kissed me so tenderly
it brought tears to my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I
whispered.

“
You
don’t have to apologize.” His hands now cupped my face and he moved
so that we were nose to nose, his dark eyes intense as he stared at
me. “I love you, Georgia. You don’t have to apologize. I was a
dick. A fucking dick. I should have been more sensitive I mean,
God, your parents and…I had no idea. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He
traced my mouth with his thumb and I leaned into him. “I fucking
love you.”

Holy shit he said the L word
!

His
breath was ragged.
“I
don’t know if that freaks you out more or if I should keep that
shit to myself but I can’t fucking live without you. I can’t.
I—”

Something
hard burst inside my chest.
Something bright and hopeful. I silenced him again, my
mouth on him as if he was my lifeline. I kissed him, worshipped
him, and pushed him until he was forced to roll onto his
back.

Our
tongues danced together, his hands in my hair, mine cupping his jaw
to hold him in place because I could not break this connection. He
was everything to me. He was my lover. My friend. My
life.

I broke
the kiss because I had to explain this to him. I had to make sure
he understood the depths of what I was feeling. Because I was so
afraid. So afraid that once he knew the real me his feelings would
change.

I
straddled his hips and shifted a bit, closing my eyes when he
groaned. He wore a thin T-shirt and his black board shorts that he
swam in. I felt his erection burn between my legs and I knew how
affected he was. “Ben,” I said softly. “There’s so much you don’t
know…about me and I—”

“Do you love
me?” He interrupted and sat up, settling his hands onto my
hips.

I
couldn’t escape his eyes. And I couldn’t lie anymore.

I nodded and
barely whispered. “Yes.”

“Say it.”

“
I. Love.
You.” I said each word slowly, savoring them on my tongue. They
were words I’d never said to anyone other than family. Never. Not
once.

“
Good,”
he said as a slow, wicked grin crept over his face. “That makes us
even.” He paused. “Now take your top off.”

The dynamics
changed in an instant.

“You
first.”

He yanked
his shirt over his head and then did the same to mine. I wasn’t
wearing a bra and his tongue flicked over my nipples, as his hands
worked their way into my sleep shorts.

“
Fuck,
you’re wet,” he growled against my chest as I leaned into him and
gyrated my hips. His fingers were already there, inside me,
stroking and setting off all kinds of chaotic things.

“Only for you,”
I whispered hoarsely, hissing as he hit that sweet spot, the pad of
his long finger stroking me into an orgasm within seconds. That’s
what Ben Lancaster did to me.

I
shuddered against him, moaning as he continued to suckle my
breasts, pulling and tugging—each suck tearing through me and
hitting me in that sweet spot all over again.

I managed to
get my shit together and stood up, which was a freaking miracle
considering we were in the middle of my bed and my knees were so
shaky I’m surprised I didn’t fall over the edge onto the floor.

I stared
down at him, at his hard, muscled, perfect body. At the delicious
tattoo on his bicep, the defined abs, the thin line of hair beneath
his navel that pointed toward the incredible bulge between his
legs. His hair was an erotic mess, his eyes glittered and the sound
he made—a half growl that had Tarzan written all over it—was just
about enough to drive me over the edge.