Chapter Ten

Luci

 

We watched the sun rise from our spot in the living room before returning to his bed and falling asleep. After a few hours, Landon surprised me with breakfast in bed. He was sweet and greeted me with an even sweeter smile. But smiles are coming harder for me. It’s almost time to leave him.

He stirs beneath me, rousing me from sleep. “Shit,” he mutters. “Oh, sorry,” he adds when my eyelids flutter open.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It’s almost four.”

I push up from where I’m lying on his chest. “We missed the day.”

“Yeah. We did.”

He doesn’t sound happy. I know how he feels, or at least, I wish I did.

Last night, when he played me that song, all the sadness I first noticed in him intensified. I heard it in his voice as he sang each word and sensed it in the melody. Each note and lyric spoke as if he were mourning a tremendous loss. I mourned, too. But it wasn’t over a goodbye I never had the chance to say or a death that came too soon.

It was Landon, and his impending absence from my life.

He didn’t have to play or sing for me to win me over. He already has. His beautiful tribute yet another reminder of how amazing he is.

I wanted to tell him that I’d like to stay in touch and that perhaps we can meet up again. I wanted to tell him I really like him. As hard as it is for me to open up and spill my vulnerability like pearls from a shattered necklace, I was ready to. Until he stopped me.

I may have been ready to say a lot of things, but Landon wasn’t ready to hear them.

When he held my face and stared into my eyes, I thought maybe he’d ask me to stay one more night. I thought . . . I thought he’d offer another opportunity to see him.

When he didn’t, I didn’t push. As much as I like him, I don’t want to be that woman begging for his number and constantly checking my phone hoping he calls.

I slip out of bed and lift my phone from the nightstand. Blythe hasn’t called nor has she texted to tell me when she’ll be by. That doesn’t mean she won’t. For all I know, she’s already on her way.

I walk into the bathroom, feeling Landon’s attention trail me. If I were more confident, I’d strut to the bathroom. Yet while I feel comfortable being naked around him, I keep my head slightly lowered and take careful steps.

The water takes a moment to warm as I wash my face, my mind sorting through how long I might have slept, and how much more I need to sleep to make up for this weekend.

It shouldn’t matter. Every moment of rest I missed was worth it. Whether he calls me or not, Landon was worth it all.

I take my time to freshen up. I’m almost done brushing my teeth with the spare toothbrush Landon gave me when he walks in.

The gray sweatpants he wears hang low on his hips, exposing the “V” in his waist I took my time to know. He crosses his arms, bulging the muscles along his arms and chest as he leans against the wall. “Do you want to go swimming?”

I lower the towel I used to pat my mouth. “In the ocean?” I ask slowly.

He chuckles. “No, in my pool.” He disappears into the walk-in closet and returns with a towel draped along his shoulders and a thick cotton robe. “Here,” he says, offering me the robe. “As much as I like what I see, it’s only about fifty degrees outside, too cold for you to go out like that.”

I take the robe, but don’t quite put it on. “You’re serious?”

“I am,” he says. “You have a beautiful body.”

My hand clasps over my eyes and I shake my head when he laughs. “I mean about swimming in January.”

He lifts his toothbrush and adds paste. “January in the south, is different than January in Jersey,” he reminds me.

He bends over the sink and brushes his teeth. When he finishes, and I’m still standing there with five pounds of terrycloth pressed against me.

“Come on, trust me,” he says, tickling my chin.

It’s only because I do that I slip into the robe and wrap it around myself. It’s huge. Based on how it dangles just above my toes and the twinkle in Landon’s eyes, I must look ridiculous.

“Ready?” he asks.

I shove my phone into the deep pocket. “Not even a little bit,” I confess.

It’s true although when he offers me his hand I gladly take it.

We walk hand and hand to the living room, like a real couple with no cares and no real place to go. It’s only when we reach the doors leading out to his massive terrace that he releases me.

Like at Becca’s house, clear glass partitions surround the perimeter, providing an unobstructed view of the ocean. He punches a code into what I mistook for an alarm system. To my shock, the floor of the terrace begins to withdraw.

Steam rises as the top of a large rectangular pool comes into view.

“It’s heated,” Landon explains.

“I can see that,” I reply.

I guessed Landon was well-off based on the tips he was dropping at the party. My suspicions were confirmed when he drove me home in his Maserati. And any lingering doubts were squelched when we arrived at his home. But this . . . I’ll admit I’m intimidated.

He hits a few more buttons that turn on the patio heaters. They’re unlike the big, bulky ones found outside restaurants. These are sophisticated, like ornate artwork that blend in with the terrace and add another air of elegance.

“You won’t notice the cold in the water. I swear you won’t,” he insists. “The heat lamps help a great deal. You’ll only feel cold once you step out of the pool, and even then, only if you linger too long.”

“Mm.”

His hands skim along my hip. “What’s wrong?”

The best way to describe how I feel is inferior. It’s not an emotion that typically strikes me, nor is it something he’s intentionally made me feel. Yet here I am struggling with how to get past it.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” I manage.

He shrugs, the gesture almost apologetic. “I’ve been a swimmer all my life. It’s my go-to form of exercise. When I was looking for a house, a pool was one of my must-have items. This place was my favorite based on the location, but the ground wasn’t suitable for digging. The terrace was my only option and worked out better than I planned. Now, I can swim all year.”

“It’s beautiful,” I assure him. I don’t want him embarrassed for having everything he does, or somehow feel shame.

“So are we swimming?”

I make a face. “I guess we are.”

“All right then.” He opens the door, his towel landing near the edge of the pool when he tosses it. Like a seasoned Chippendale, he loses his sweats and dives in.

I stand by the door with my jaw hanging open.

Have I mentioned Landon has an ass Adonis would kill Zeus to spank?

He swims across the length and back. If Michael Phelps were here he’d say, “Hey, we have an opening on our Olympic team, care to join us?”

Landon comes up for air, a stream of water gliding in a perfect line when he flicks his hair. He folds his arms along the edge, beads of water dripping down his beard and bare skin.

God, help me. The image before me resembles a high-end ad rather than real life. I’m almost tempted to fetch his cologne and place it beside him.

“Are you coming?”

“Um,” I say.

He cocks his head as if unsure why I’m standing there gaping. If he listens closely, perhaps he can hear my lady parts pounding out of control.

“Come on, baby,” he says. “Let’s have a little fun.”

Before you have to leave, he doesn’t add.

I creep out, only to run when the cold deck floor and the surrounding air sends chills shooting through my spinal cord. I hunker down at the ledge and dip my legs.

Landon swims up to me.

“So hot,” I say, wiggling my toes.

“Thank you,” he tells me.

I laugh, meeting the playful sparkle in his eyes. “I meant the water.”

He presses a kiss to my knee. “I set it that way. Otherwise my muscles would cramp up. Can’t have that, can we?”

“Oh, no, big boy.”

His throaty laugh makes me smile. I kick my legs back and forth, allowing the water to dispel the last of my nervousness.

His wet hands slide up my thighs. “Jump in before you get cold.”

I glance down the length of pool. The shallow end seems to be on the opposite side. “How deep is it?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” I reply. “I can’t swim.”

“It’s ten feet,” he admits.

A strong wind sweeps in, causing the partitions to rattle. While I don’t feel it yet, I’m worried I will. I curl forward. “I’ll go in over there,” I say, pointing to the end.

He lifts partially up and unfastens the belt on my robe. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“Landon, I don’t know.”

“Baby, you have nothing to worry about. I was a lifeguard, remember? Watched out for people in the water for years.”

“You saved elderly people, didn’t you? And children?”

“Once or twice.” He pauses. “Okay, maybe a few times.”

My shoulders slump. “I should have guessed.”

“What’s the big deal? The waters around here can get rough following a storm.”

“What’s the big deal? Seriously, Landon? You saved the lives of elderly people and children. Anything else?”

He thinks about it. “I saved a dolphin snagged in a net once, but that was more of a team effort.”

I sigh because it beats swooning. “Could you be any more perfect?”

He quiets and shakes his head. I think I offended him and reach to touch him, smoothing the long hair away from his brow. “I’m sorry for thinking you’re perfect.” I smile when he raises his head. “I just can’t help myself.”

He rubs the water from his beard. “The only thing that’s perfect is this water, and the only way to make it better is for you to be in here with me. Jump in. I’ll take care of you.”

“All right.”

I shudder when I pull off the robe, careful to place it and my phone away from the ledge. Landon lifts his hands when I position myself closer. I take them and . . . plunge all the way to the bottom.

Strong arms wrap around my waist, shooting me up to the surface. I break through the water, coughing and choking.

Landon laughs.

That’s right, totally and completely cracks up.

I can’t see him, only hear him, the heavy wet hair draped over my face making it hard to make anything out.

I grip his shoulders when he tries to set me down. He laughs harder, lifting me again and bouncing us in place. Somehow, I manage to push enough of my hair away to see we’re at the other end of the pool.

“I thought you had me,” I gripe.

“I didn’t expect you to drop like a stone,” he admits, unable to stop laughing. “I figured you’d at least doggie-paddle enough to help me keep you afloat.”

“What part of I can’t swim didn’t you understand?”

“I thought you were a Jersey shore girl. That’s what you told me.”

“I did not. I said I went to the shore.”

He adjusts my legs so I straddle him. “So all those beautiful beaches you claimed you saw, and all those times you visited, you never actually went in the water?” He chuckles when I shake my head. “Then why did you go?”

“For the boardwalk and a tan.”

“The boardwalk and a tan,” he repeats, slowly, a great deal of humor reflecting in his face.

My hands wrangle with the moppy mess my hair has become. “I’ll admit, it wasn’t the best place to learn to swim.”

“I’ll bet all the pollution and garbage made it tough,” he agrees thoughtfully.

“The beaches were very clean, I assure you.” I pull at the strands of my hair, trying to settle them. “The waves were often harsh and I was too scared to go in past my waist.”

“I see,” he says, even though he clearly doesn’t.

Oh, and neither can I. I give up on my hair. “Could you hold me a second?”

I don’t wait for him to answer, pinching my nose and arching backward into the water, allowing it to slick my hair back.

I do a double-take when I find Landon gawking. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine. But if you don’t mind, could you do that again?”

“Slick my hair back?” I ask, even though I know what he means.

“Sure, that, and tease me with your erect and tantalizing nipples.” He shrugs. “A real lady would.”

I laugh and wrap my arms around him. “What else would a real lady do?”

He smiles softly. “Let me kiss her like I want to.”

If I’m planning a good comeback, it doesn’t quite come. What does is his kiss. His lips are moist from the water, silky and lush. Steam rises around us, adding a romantic ambiance I’ve never experienced, and one I doubt I’ll have again.

He adjusts his hold, opening and closing his mouth, his tongue exploring as he moves us across the pool. “You took your pill today, right?”

He must have noticed the small box on the nightstand. “Yes,” I assure him quietly.

Water isn’t a lubricant, no matter what you hear. It takes Landon a moment to enter me, and when he does, it’s like an intimate union we’ve gone too long without. We hang tight to each other as we reach the center and his thrusts begin.

No matter how good it feels, our eager and lust-filled sounds are no match for the increasing howls of the wind batting against the glass dividers or the force of the crashing of waves demanding attention. It’s okay, in a way, each cry from nature permits and encourages us to be loud. There’s no muffling, there’s no holding back, both of us losing ourselves to our passion.

He slows his movements as we finish. His lips, so carefully fastened around the tip of my breast, return to my mouth, claiming me as tenderly as he had when our kiss first began.

I love kissing Landon, he never disappoints. And I love the way he commits so fully to pleasing me every time we make love.

I stroke his face when he pulls away, gasping when I see how wrinkled my hands are. “Maybe we should go inside?”

He kisses my cheek. “If you want. But let me show you something first.” He groans when he separates us. I’ll admit, I do too. Not because it hurts. But because this is a closeness that’s hard to let go of.

For a few long breaths, he simply looks at me, taking a moment to kiss me again before adjusting his hold and carrying me in his arms. We drift to the deep end. He turns me carefully, making sure I grab the ledge before releasing me and pushing up on his elbows.

“There,” he says, pointing to the ocean. “This is the reason I bought this house.”

From this spot, all I see is an endless sea and sky. The sun isn’t overwhelmingly bright, not like it is during summer. Yet it’s enough to stream thousands of sparkles across the water. They cast a spotlight on an ocean filled with the dreams and laughter of generations of people smart enough to enjoy its splendor.

I rest my chin against my forearms, my spirit lifting as I take in its beauty. “Why do you love it so much?”

“It’s a great view,” he says.

I smile, but don’t look at him. “Why do you love it so much?” I ask again.

For the longest time, he doesn’t answer. “It’s eternal,” he finally says. “Not everything is, not everything that matters anyway, but the ocean always will be.”

I can’t argue with that.

He slips his arm around me. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

“A little bit. I was thinking I can make some fish stew with the leftover steaks we have.”

He strokes my skin with his knuckles. “You can do that?”

“It won’t be perfect,” I confess. “But I can make do with what you have so hopefully it will be good enough.”

“I’d like that.”

His smile vanishes when my cell phone rings. I already know who it is and so does he.

I pull myself out of the pool and hurry to the other side. The hot water and the heat lamps keep the bite of winter from nipping my skin long enough to dry my hands and gather the robe against me. The phone stops ringing, but I catch the contact information flashing across the screen. As I suspected, I’d missed Blythe’s call.

I don’t bother to call her back. Instead I slip on the robe and plunge my feet into the water.

Landon swims toward me. There’s so much I want to say and thank him for. But the one thing I don’t want to say is goodbye.

I can’t be the first woman Landon has spent the weekend naked with. No, he’s too attractive, funny, and absurdly smart. And with that tender heart beating beneath all those looks and charm, he’s impossible to resist.

He hops out of the pool, a cascade of water dripping down his back and legs. He reaches for his towel, drying off quickly when my phone rings again.

My focus stays on Landon as he yanks on his sweatpants. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Blythe says. “I’m checking out. I should be at Becca’s in about half an hour.”

She sounds annoyed. I suppose the man she met wasn’t so different after all. I turn back toward the pool. “You’re leaving now?” I ask, my thoughts returning to the intimacy Landon and I shared moments ago.

“Yes,” she says, her voice irritated. “Didn’t I just say that?”

I’m taken aback by her tone, and so is Landon. He sits beside me, frowning. I don’t have to guess he heard Blythe.

“Fine,” I say, unable to disguise how offended I am by her behavior. “But I’m not at Becca’s.”

Her pause is so dramatic, I’m not sure she’s still on the line. “Then where are you?”

I stiffen, not wanting to disclose anything private, especially with her being as rude as she is.

Landon holds out his hand. “May I?”

I hesitate, unsure what he’ll say, not that it stops me from passing him the phone.

“Luci, where are you?” Blythe snaps.

“She’s with me,” Landon answers, his voice just as terse. “This is Landon Summers. I’m at 16 Ocean Course Drive, seven houses down past Becca’s, sea side. Got it?”

“Yes,” Blythe stammers.

“Good,” he says. “Drive slow.”

I take his hand when he offers it and allow him to pull me up, huddling into the robe as we hurry back into the house. He shuts the sliding glass doors behind us and returns my phone. I drop it back into my pocket, watching him as he works the buttons on his control.

“Can I borrow your hair dryer?”

He keeps his back to me, his fingers moving fast. “You don’t have to ask, Luci. Take and use whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” I say.

He seems upset, and it’s the last thing I want. “She’s not normally like that,” I offer.

“You could have fooled me based on how she’s treated you.”

He lowers his head when I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss the spot between his shoulder blades. “It’s okay,” I say.

“No. It’s not.”

He’s right. Blythe has been awful this trip. But I don’t want to insult her. I don’t have a lot of time and need to hurry. That doesn’t stop me from pressing my cheek against his back and taking a moment to feel him against me.

His skin is warm. My hair is soaked and cold, yet he doesn’t appear to mind. “She hasn’t been a good friend this weekend,” I admit. “But it’s because of her that I met you, and for that I’ll always be grateful.”

My eyes sting when he doesn’t respond to my words or my touch. “Do you want me to run a hot bath for you?” I offer.

He shakes his head slowly, yet still won’t look at me. My hands slip from his waist. “Okay,” I say. “I better get dressed.”

I cross the living room and head toward the rear staircase, certain he’s angry and that he needs space.

“Luci?” His deep tenor stops me at the bottom of the stairs. But it’s that heartbreaking way he regards me that keeps me from moving. “Remember that first night, when I asked you about the worst date you ever had, and you told me about meeting that guy at the pizza parlor?” I nod, although I’m unsure where he’s headed. “Mine was this one . . . because it has to end.”

My fingers slide along the slick wood of the banister. I swallow hard. “I think I know what you mean,” I say.

I start up the steps carefully, not wanting him to see the tears that fall.