Coming Undone Page 12

  “Your boyfriend’s going to love your cleavage.”

  Carly opened her mouth to tell the seamstress that she didn’t have a boyfriend and caught her sister staring at her from the corner of the dressing room, eyebrows raised.

  “What man wouldn’t?” Carly answered, and really, the contraption she’d had strapped to her ribcage did give her cleavage, or at least, the illusion of it. However, breathing wasn’t an option, but no one seemed to care about that.

  She’d thought the fitting was one of the most painfully boring hours of her life, and that was compared to lying stock-still in a hospital bed, counting ceiling tiles. But then, she’d had prescription drugs to alter the pain. During the fitting, she’d had nothing as the seamstress spent the entire time painstakingly altering the bodice of the lime-green horror until it skimmed her upper body.

  Carly’d been very wrong about the fitting being one of the worst, since she had lunch to endure.

  “OH, GOOD, Marie got us a table,” her mother said as they entered the restaurant.

  Nicole continued to babble about how well her wedding dress fit now that she’d lost that pesky extra two pounds. Carly started to make a comment about ordering an extra dessert, but her mother’s comment stopped her cold.Marie. As in, Marie Tremont. As in…“Evan’s mom, Marie?”

  “Of course, dear. Did you forget she’s one of my closest friends? And she hasn’t seen you in ages.”

  Truth be told, half the time Carly hadn’t even made it home for holidays—more often she’d been traveling and competing. No time when you’re training, her coach always told her. Then came rehab.

  Marie greeted Carly warmly, and the talk of the table centered around the wedding immediately, which seemed to let her off the hook. And from the way Nicole made it sound, she was having the event of the century. For all Carly knew, maybe she was.

  None of Carly’s friends, surfing or otherwise, had gotten married in any way, shape or form that rivaled Nicole’s extravaganza-to-be. Carly had attended a few weddings on the beach, where bride, groom and guests were all happily barefoot and in bathing suits. The reception was always centered on riding out the late-afternoon tubes.

  “Evan’s not giving you up without a fight, you know,” Marie said, and Carly stopped, mid-drink of her iced tea, and cursed herself for letting her guard, and her attention, wander.

  “Well, he’s going to have to,” Carly replied. Corporate raider versus Navy SEAL. Could be interesting. The only advantage Evan had was that he might be able to bore Hunt to death.

  “Carly, it’s just that Evan has so much more to offer you than a military kind of life. I wish you’d give him a chance.”

  “Hunt does fine with what he offers me,” she said, then heard the harshness in her voice and wondered why she was so upset. She was defending Hunt as if he was her boyfriend and not the guy who’d spent all of last night and most of the morning giving her orgasms worthy of a double close-out.

  “Maybe Evan will have to rescue Carly from the waves, the way Hunt did,” Nicole said.

  “What are you talking about?” Carly asked, because she and Hunt certainly didn’t have the chance to get their stories straight before, although she did remember him mentioning something. But he’d been kidding. At least, she’d thought so.

  “That’s the way Hunt told me you’d met when I asked him. The other day when I called and he picked up the phone,” Nicole went on. “He said you were caught in a riptide, and even though you were clearly getting out of it on your own, he decided to rescue you anyway.”

  “He told you that?” Carly asked.

  “He also said he made the decision when he saw that your top had come off and floated away,” Nicole finished. Marie gasped.

  “Evan wouldn’t do anything like that,” his mother said.

  “No, Evan wouldn’t,” Carly agreed, then she smiled. The image of her topless in Hunt’s arms would be enough to get her through the rest of the afternoon.

  16

  SEX WAS MUCH, MUCH BETTER than physical therapy. Actually, it was the best thing her kitchen table, floor and counter had ever seen, and Carly wondered if she could get a doctor’s prescription for it. Maybe she should stop complaining about Nicole’s upcoming nuptials and start embracing them, because breaking in her date was the most fun she’d ever had.

  “We’re supposed to be practicing,” she murmured, something she’d been telling Hunt for a couple of days. Under the guise of getting their story straight, they’d been spending an inordinate amount of time together. And while the sex could be deemed casual, and amazing, there were also dinners, phone calls, walks. Late-night movies. Teasing. Laughing. Enjoying.Rather than “distracting” Hunt from wanting to learn to surf, she’d had to admit she was dating her pretend boyfriend. She also discovered that being with Hunt was like being pulled under a blue crush, and, for the first time, the idea of “way over her head” was very appealing.

  She refused to think about how his leave was up sooner than later, and that he’d promised her absolutely nothing beyond the wedding. That was the way she wanted it, too, wasn’t it?

  He’d started kissing her shoulder, distracting her again. They’d almost made it to the couch, but somehow ended up tangled on the rug halfway between the kitchen and living room, and in full view of the glass sliding doors, should anyone happen along there.

  “Yes, practice,” he said, and his hand slid up her inner thigh. He grinned when his fingers made contact because she was already wet for him. Again. “It’s very important for me to know you. Inside and out.”

  He slid a finger inside her and she immediately contracted against his invasion. Then he slid in another, and when he added a third she arched against him and cried out.

  “Just like I said, I’m getting to know all about you,” he murmured while she wiggled against him, looking for relief from the slow ache building from his touch. “Getting to know all your secret spots.”

  Hunt’s mouth brushed her collarbone and she moaned. His fingers twisted. His tongue circled her nipple lightly and the pad of his thumb circled her hot nub of flesh with just enough pressure to make her scream, which she did. Her yell was stifled because she bit down on his shoulder when she climaxed. He didn’t seem to mind at all, murmured something about loving the way she looked when she came, against her ear.

  “That’s not exactly the kind of knowing that’s going to get us through the wedding,” she said, once she could speak again.

  He rolled slightly away from her, lay flat on his back against the carpet and laughed, a deep, rich sound. “That’s the kind of knowing that’s going to get us through anything.”

  And when he stood, it was in one easy movement and she enjoyed her vantage point with him towering over her.

  “And you’ve got to stop seducing me,” Hunt told her, “or we’ll miss the best surfing of the day. Again.”

  He’d come to the house before five in the morning. And come again a couple of times since then. Now, it was nearly six-fifteen and dawn was breaking.

  Keeping his mind off surfing lessons and on her had worked for a while, but today, he seemed bound and determined not to let her off the hook. Time to think of a new plan.

  “Come on, surfer girl. I’ll make breakfast and then it’s time for our first lesson.” He hauled her to her feet and left her with a kiss so long and hot she thought maybe, just maybe, she’d changed his mind. But he did let her go and wandered off into the kitchen. She followed his broad, muscled figure as it retreated.

  After a quick shower, Carly pulled on a bikini with boy-short bottoms out of habit because they were much more practical for surfing and ignored the sarcastic barb her own mind threw back at her for even thinking she was going near the water. Although she and Hunt had been spending a lot of time together in the evenings, their days were spent apart—he’d been with Ty, and she’d been busy with the magazine and with the charity event for spinal cord research. And since that night in the bar when Hunt learned about th
e accident, he hadn’t pushed it.

  This morning, she could tell he was going to push it. But maybe it would be different with Hunt there. Maybe she could get closer to the water, get her toes into the wet sand down by the shoreline. She felt the drive building up inside of her as she gazed out the window toward the waves. For the first time, Carly realized that she was equal parts excitement and fear. Not a bad start.

  A smile on her face, she deleted the new phone message from Evan because she couldn’t deal with that pressure anymore. The guy couldn’t take a simple no for an answer, and he was a lot less persuasive than Hunt had been.

  She found Hunt sitting on the lanai staring at the ocean. He wore only a pair of long swim trunks he must have had packed away in his Harley. He didn’t turn when she slid the glass door open, just started talking instead.

  “There’s something special about dawn on the beach,” he said.

  Carly noticed that he sounded no different than any newly reformed or rabid surfer she encountered, including herself.

  “I know what you mean.” She sat next to him. “It’s like it needs its own moment of silence.”

  “When I was in training for the SEALs, it was brutal. Beyond brutal. There were hours in there when I was sure I would die from exhaustion. There were times the pain was so bad I thought death would be the easiest option. And then I’d come up to like the thirty-sixth hour of no sleep and I’d look at the bell, since ringing out meant comfort. You rang out and you got a hot meal, a hot shower and sleep. And I’d tell myself, hold out a few more minutes, Hunt. It’s got to get better. And then dawn would break and even the instructors left you alone for a few minutes, like sun-up hypnotized them, too.”

  He turned to face her. “No matter where I am in this world, this part of the day always makes things better.”

  “So, you’re away a lot?” she asked, and he nodded.

  “That’s got to be tough on relationships.”

  “Now you’re worried about the love life of your fantasy boyfriend?”

  Actually, it was something she’d been thinking about over the last few days, but hadn’t wanted to bring up. Mainly, because she didn’t want to know if he was a girl-at-every-port kind of guy. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did to her.

  “Curious, not worried. I’m sure you have a fine love life,” she said, but couldn’t help casting a sideways glance to see if his expression would give anything away.

  It didn’t.

  “If there were any girlfriends, I wouldn’t be here with you. I told you, I’m not looking for more than a few nights in fantasyland, in general. Same as you.”

  “Oh.” She rubbed her palms together, chose her next words carefully. “Have you ever?”

  “Been the object of someone’s fantasy? I thought I already was.”

  “Had a girlfriend? Been in love?”

  “No to both. I never had the time or the inclination.”

  “Does your job keep you that busy, or are you like Cash?” she asked.

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Like Cash?”

  “You know, when he said he didn’t trust women. Do you feel the same way?” she asked, and he stared off into the distance, as if he wasn’t going to answer. When he didn’t, she effectively had her answer.

  “Want to talk about your love life?” he asked, and no, she didn’t, especially because he was the most exciting thing to happen to her love life in forever. And there was no way she was admitting that now.

  He pushed away from the table and faced her, putting his arms down on either side of her to lock her in place. He watched her carefully for a second, as if trying to read her mind and then he leaned in to kiss her.

  It wasn’t going to stop there. She didn’t want it to, not with the memories of last night lingering. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist, and pulled him in closer, loving the way his arms felt around her. Her belly tightened, her sex already wet, and God, she wanted him. Now.

  “Hunt,” she murmured against his lips. “Hunt, please…”

  “I don’t think I could get tired of hearing you say that,” he said. “Hold on tight.”

  She did, her lips pressing along his shoulders and neck as he carried her back inside the house. He tasted like salt spray and warm sun and she put a hand on the back of his neck to keep him close as he placed her on the edge of the kitchen island, but barely.

  “Let’s see if you can keep your balance,” he murmured as he deftly pulled down her boy shorts, forcing her to hang on to him for dear life. Her bikini top came off next, thrown to the floor, and she was bare in his arms, her nipples erect and longing for his touch.

  She loosened her grip on him a little as she gained her equilibrium, only to lose it again when his mouth circled a turgid bud, sucking one then the other until she nearly forgot she was supposed to be holding on.

  “Beautiful,” he said, moved his head up while his hand stroked her sex, making her moan and thrust back against his fingers.

  She held on to him with one hand while reaching in between his legs with the other, which made him groan.

  She worked him with the same rhythm his deft fingers used to play into her, a leisurely slide, until she wasn’t sure if she could stand it.

  Thankfully, he didn’t want her to.

  “Don’t hold back,” he said, his fingers deep inside of her, his thumb pressing her clit until she felt herself begin to shatter. She let go of his shaft in order to hold him with both arms around his lower back.

  And finally, finally, he entered her while she was still coming—it was, at first, one long, slow stroke that made her gasp and groan with much-needed release. Then he thrust against her hard and fast until one orgasm turned into another as he clutched her hips, pulled her back and forth to him.

  His look of utter and complete concentration, his green eyes holding fast to hers made it even better than last night. There was a familiarity she didn’t think would be there this soon, a heightened awareness of the way her body responded to his.

  She saw in his eyes that she was forcing him to lose all his hard-won control because of the strength of her orgasms, and when he came, he buried his face against her neck and murmured her name.

  17

  CARLY WAS STILL WRAPPED securely in Hunt’s arms, content to stay there all day and night if he’d let her.

  “What the heck is that?” he asked. He’d been looking over her shoulder, and she turned to see he had a perfect view into the hallway where she’d hung the key-lime colored dress over a closet door so it wouldn’t wrinkle.She pulled back and he helped her off the counter. “My maid of honor dress,” she said as she picked up her bikini and slid back into the bottom.

  “Oh,” was all he said.

  “What do you think?” she asked as he tied her bikini top back into place and reached for his own bathing suit.

  “It’s just…not you,” he said. He walked over to the dress, reached forward to touch the material gingerly, as if the fabric would detonate if held at the wrong angle.

  Nothing could help this dress. It had lace and rhinestones and flared from the waist with so much tulle that Carly wasn’t sure she’d fit through any doorway without some serious help. “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider being my date for the wedding?” she asked.

  “Any chance she’ll elope?”

  “Not a one. She’s in it for the reception. Trust me.”

  “As long as I don’t have to wear anything like that, I’m in.” He smiled, but she noticed he backed away from the dress. “And I’m ready for my lesson.”

  “I didn’t teach you enough this morning?” she teased, and his eyes darkened with that same desire she loved seeing when he was inside her. Unfortunately, a SEAL on a mission was not to be deterred.

  “Unless you’d like to head to the wedding in that thing alone,” he motioned toward the dress as he walked toward the sliding glass doors.

  She followed quickly. The thought of going through the w
edding alone was too scary to even consider.

  Not nearly as scary as the thought of going near that water, though.

  Outside he asked, “Do you want me to bring these down to the dunes?” He’d headed directly to the longboards.

  “Not yet. First, we have to talk.”

  “Talk?” His tone was doubtful. “Carly, no man wants to hear a woman say those words, and we’re going surfing. You’ve kept me waiting for days, and surfing equals action, not talk.”

  “I thought I was the one doing the teaching?”

  He muttered something about stubborn women and sighed like the walking wounded. “Fine. We’ll talk.”

  “Good. Tell me everything you know about waves.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No, I’m not.” Mental pat on the back for the stall.

  He frowned and went to the surfboards. “You’re stalling.”

  Admit nothing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You said you wanted to learn about surfing and I’m trying to teach you. I ran an entire school, and I can tell you that the first thing my students did was learn about the sport.”

  Again, not entirely true, but if she could put Hunt off, make him think this learning process would be boring, he’d give up. “I still can’t believe that you grew up around here and you never surfed.”

  “It wasn’t my thing,” he said, shrugging a little.

  “So you chose a job that put you in the water.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t like the water. Just that I was too busy to put in the kind of time surfing would’ve needed. And if I can’t do something all the way, I’m not even attempting it.”

  “What were you busy doing?”

  He paused. “I worked nights. So the few hours I had between dawn and daylight were either spent sleeping or finishing homework, or finding Ty and dragging him home to sleep or do his homework.”

  “You don’t strike me as the type to do homework.”