Page 27 of Walk of Shame
The guys stride up to the edge of the blanket, saving me from having to answer. I look at Christopher, holding out a drink to me, a smile on his face. I just want to melt. He’s not wearing a shirt and his shoulders are bare, broad and defined. His chest is sculpted, his abdomen toned. I remember how he felt under my hands, the flex of his muscles under my fingers. The movement of his hips between my thighs.
He must catch the direction of my thoughts because his gaze darkens, and dips to my lips. He crouches down, puts the drink into a grove in the sand before returning his attention to me. “Do you want to go swim a bit?”
I should say no, because he’s charmed me completely, and I’m smitten by him. I open my mouth to refuse, but instead say, “Yes.”
He takes my hand, and without looking away says, “We’ll be back.”
Then he stands, taking me right along with him.
In silence we walk to the ocean’s edge. The water is warm, lapping against my bare toes and I stare out into the sea. What am I doing? And why am I doing it?
He squeezes my fingers, and then tugs. “Let’s go this way.”
Off to the left the beach is more deserted and we walk, the water brushing our feet as we make our way past the crowded section before wading into the ocean. A wave crashes into me, almost knocking me over, but he catches me around the waist and holds me tight.
As our bodies slide together I gasp with the shock of it, my hands skim over the muscles in his arms when I should be pushing him away. I meet his eyes, so hot on mine.
I should shift out of his grasp, but I stare into the depths of his brown eyes, warm like whiskey, and I don’t. I stay right where I am. Right where I want to be.
I take in a quick breath. “You’re not making this easy.”
His hands walk a path up my spine, tracing the droplets of water he finds there. “I don’t want it to be easy.”
“I need it to be.”
“Why’s that?”
I think of the thousands of reasons I’ve been telling myself since I left his apartment. About my quest, about how he’s wrong for me. Too young. In different places. But the truth is, I’ve never felt more myself, more easy, than when I’m around him. Even the night of the party, when I’d first made him into a pawn to play in my one-sided revenge game with Trevor, there’d been something that drew me to him like a moth to flame. After ten minutes of talking to Christopher, I’d forgotten all about Trevor, riveted by the look in Christopher’s eyes and the skim of his hands down my back.
He makes me feel beautiful and alive and excited. He makes me forget how stupid I’ve been and all the poor choices I’ve made. Being around him, it makes me want just to be. And that is a luxury I’ve never allowed myself.
He scares me.
It occurs to me, with the water lapping against my skin, now is my chance to take a risk. To develop myself into the person I want to be. Before, I’d play a game, divert or distract, or make up some story that put me in the kind of light I’ve always thought guys want girls to be. The cool, flirty girl you can have fun with, that’s great in bed, and never gives you any hassle.
But it’s not real. It’s a façade I’ve created.
This, right here, is my chance to be vulnerable. To be honest and raw, and open myself up. Even if that honesty doesn’t make me look good, or desirable.
My heart beats hard against my ribs as fear grabs ahold of me, but I take a deep breath and take the plunge. I have nothing to lose but my ego, and maybe that’s something I need to kick to the curb anyway. With a small tremble in my lips, I look into Christopher’s eyes and tell him the absolute, god’s honest truth. “I don’t trust myself and I don’t trust the way you make me feel.”
Surprise flickers in his gaze, but his grip around my waist tightens. “What about me, Ash? Do you think you can trust me?”
I lick my dry lips. “I want to. Deep down I think I can, but I have a horrible track record with men and I always make the wrong choices. I don’t trust my judgment. I’m scared I’m just fooling myself.”
I brace myself, waiting and ready for him to pull away. Because that’s what I expect from men. Anything beyond fun and sex and they pull away. But if that’s who Christopher is, how he really feels about me, I need to know now. That I’m willing to face what might be a harsh truth, to walk away because I want something more or better, is progress. Not the progress I was expecting on this trip, but progress nonetheless.
I swallow.
His hands move up my back, but instead of releasing me, he presses closer, before settling his hands on my hips. “Tell me about the guy that hurt you.”
Tears fill my eyes and while I hate them, I don’t hide them. “I don’t want to. It makes me sound so dumb, and I don’t want you to think about me that way.”
He drops his head and presses his forehead against mine. “It won’t. All I want is to understand you. To know you.”
I swallow hard and take a risk. “Okay.”
Christopher