All the Pretty Lies
Page 8

But right now, it serves my purpose. I don’t like the thought of anyone getting hurt, but I can’t be responsible for everyone else. I have my own shit in life to worry about. And some of it is more important to me than anything else. It has to be. Until I see it through, it has to take precedence. End of story.
After nearly two hours of strolling along the beach, looking at bodies with the eye of a tattoo artist, I finally notice the heat.
“Do you swim?”
Sloane smiles broadly. “Yeah, I love to swim.”
“Then you have two choices. Run or I’ll pick you up and throw you in.”
Her smile dies as she processes my words. It only takes two, maybe three seconds for her to turn away from me and run, squealing toward the water. I give her a very small lead and then I swoop in, scooping her up into my arms and running into the salt water waves. I hit thigh level just as a swell comes in. I wait until it’s ready to break and I throw Sloane right in the highest part. I hear her squeal again, but it’s quickly drowned by the crash of water over her head.
I see her sunglasses fly out and hit the water a couple feet away. I reach for them as I watch her, making sure she finds her feet. Her head pops up in an instant. I smile when I hear her sputtering. She straightens, pushing long, inky strands of hair out of her eyes.
“You…you…” she stammers. I might feel bad if she was really mad, but she’s not. I can see her curved lips, and I know it’s just bluster.
“Me…me…what? Me fast and you slow?”
Sloane comes stomping out of the deeper water toward me. “You’re going down, mister.”
“Ooo, promises promises.” I start backing away, laughing at her bravado. She speeds up, I speed up. She lunges, I evade. “Don’t hurt yourself, little girl,” I mock as she leaps to try and get a hold on my arm.
“I’m not a little girl,” she demands, hurling herself at me. I sidestep her and she splashes into the water.
“Prove it,” I tease playfully.
Sloane stops. Just stops. She stops and watches me. Through her spiky eyelashes, I can see flecks of gold in the chocolate of her eyes. I can see that her suckable lips are parted slightly and I can see that her chest is heaving as a result of our play.
She raises her hands to smooth her hair away from her face. It stretches her bathing suit top tight across her tits, plainly displaying her hard little nipples. For a second, it feels like I’m watching a Sports Illustrated shoot.
I let my eyes roam her curves. Droplets ease their way down her throat and into the valley between her breasts. Her stomach contracts with each breath. Her thighs move rhythmically through the swirling water as she walks toward me.
When I raise my gaze back to her face, I see that her eyes are fixed on mine. She holds me there until she reaches me and stops again.
She tilts her face up toward mine. Other than that, she doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. She’s close enough that I can feel her body heat despite the cool water bathing my skin.
I see her reach out. I feel her warm hands when she grips my sides. I watch her pull herself up onto her tiptoes. I hold my breath as her lips get closer and closer.
And then they’re touching mine.
The kiss is soft and innocent and fleeting. And when she leans back, I see that there is, in fact, a woman behind the guileless eyes that I see every time I close mine. There’s a woman in there, and she knows what she wants. Maybe I’ve not given her enough credit. Maybe I missed seeing it at first, when I got lost in her sweet smile and blushing cheeks. Maybe she’s more like the women I’ve known than what I suspected.
Yes, this girl knows what she wants. And, while she may not be as deliberate in getting it as the others I’ve bedded, she still knows how to use what she’s got.
And she’s using it.
Right now.
On me.
When she leans into me again, I go into the kiss with the intention of leading Sloane out into the deeper water and showing her just what she’s asking of me. And showing her a little taste of just what she’ll get.
But before any of that can happen, she flinches, pulling away from me with a gasp.
“Ouch!” At first it seems like she stepped on something. But then I hear the air hiss between her teeth again and she cries out. “Oh shit! Something just bit me.”
She darts away from me, swishing the water around her like she’s trying to scare something away. She screeches and grabs her right leg.
“Ohmigod, Hemi, something bit me!”
I can see that she’s not kidding. And that she’s getting more upset by the second. I kick into action.
Moving as quickly as I can through the churning water, I sweep Sloane up into my arms and I run her to the shore. I drop to my knees in the wet sand, laying her gently in front of me. I see the cringe marring her beautiful features, her expression one of pain. She’s paler than usual, too.
“Show me where,” I command.
Sloane indicates the outside of her right thigh. That’s when I see the angry red slashes filled with angry red dots.
A jellyfish sting.
“You’ve been stung by a jellyfish,” I say by way of explanation. “Hold still.”
I check her skin to make sure there are no tentacles attached. When I confirm that there aren’t, I stand.
“You’re not gonna pee on me, are you?” she asks, her eyes slightly horrified despite the pain she’s in.
I can’t help but grin. “No, I just need to go get something. Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
I run up the beach to where our stuff is. Luckily we’d almost made our way back to where we started. I grab the tube of sunscreen from Sloane’s bag and retrace my steps. It only takes me a few seconds to get back to her.
Holding the tube by the fat part, I scrape the sharply folded end over Sloane’s skin.
She yelps in pain. “Don’t do that!”
She flinches away from me.
“Hold still. I have to get the stingers out.” Once more, I carefully scrape the site with the flat edge of the lotion tube until I’m fairly confident there are no remaining stingers. I can tell she’s in pain, but Sloane doesn’t make another sound. Finally, I scoop her back up again and take her into the surf.
“What are you doing?” she asks, clinging to my neck and curling her body tighter against mine so that I don’t put her into the water.
I set her down in the shallows, in just enough depth that I can bathe her leg. “Here, this will help. Just trust me. I need to wash it out with salt water. It’ll help it to not burn as bad.”
I cup my hands and ladle water onto her thigh, gently rubbing the area. Over and over, I force water onto the sting, hopefully rinsing away any residual stingers and neutralizing the toxins.
“Is it feeling any better?” I ask, checking her color again. She still looks pale, but she doesn’t look like her distress is as acute.
“A little.”
“You’re not feeling short of breath or anything, are you?”
She pauses to assess herself then she shakes her head and answers, “No. I feel fine otherwise.”
“Come on. Let’s find an emergency room or an urgent care to get you to.”
I bend to pick her up again, but she struggles a little. “No! That’s not necessary, is it? Just for a jellyfish sting?”
I glance down at her face. She looks alarmed.
“Well, it’s not mandatory, but I’d feel better if you got some medical attention.” I see her worrying her lip. “Why? Do you have an aversion to hospitals or something?”
“It’s not that. It’s just that…that…”
“What? Spit it out.”
She leans her head against my chest for a second, as if her instinct is to hide her face.
“It’s just that I’d hate for my family to find out about this.”
“Why? It’s not like you did it on purpose.”
“I know that. They’re just…it’s just…it’s complicated.”
“Complicated,” I repeat.
“Yeah. Complicated.” I slow my walk as we approach Sloane’s towel. I set her down on it and crouch at her side.
“Do they not know you’re here?”
“Uhhh,” she hedges, “not so much.”
“Is it because of last night? Because I’m not afraid of your brother, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that…”
“You can tell me. Whatever it is. I don’t judge. And I won’t get mad, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She makes a growling sound. “Grrr, it’s not that. It’s just…it’s embarrassing.”
I sit over onto my hip beside her. “All right, tell me what’s going on.”
“Look, my family is just very…protective. It’s been a big struggle for me to make them see that I’m all grown up, that they need to let me live my life. Turning twenty-one was huge for me. They’ll go into orbit if they find out I took off to the beach with some random guy, got stung by a jellyfish and then ended up in the hospital. They’ll give me shit every time I want to leave the house for months if they find out.”
“No offense, but why don’t you just move out?”
Sloane sighs. “It’s not that easy. There are things…well, it’s just not that easy. Trust me.”
Everyone has a right to their secrets and their privacy. I, of all people, believe that wholeheartedly, so I don’t press her.
“Okay, well how about this. Let’s find a hotel and at least get you someplace where you can rest and I can get some vinegar on this thing. That way you won’t have a miserable car ride and an unsavory family run-in today. You can tell your family that you’re with a friend, and that you’ll be home tomorrow. Sound plausible?”
I see as much as feel her exhale. Her smile is relieved. “That sounds great.”
I exhale, too. “Okay, first things first. Let’s get off the beach and go across to Savannah and find a place to hole up for the night. Then we’ll go from there. Cool?”
“Cool,” she repeats.
I throw all our stuff in her bag—clothes, shoes, sunscreen, my sunglasses.
“Shit! I must’ve dropped your glasses. I don’t have ‘em.”
“That’s fine. They were cheap. And I guess I can let you off the hook since you were trying to rescue me and all.”
“How kind of you,” I reply drolly. “I’ll buy you another pair before we leave.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“Maybe not, but I will anyway.”
I throw her bag over my shoulder and start to reach for her.
“I can walk,” she says, rolling to her feet and dusting sand off her butt. She turns around and grabs her towel to shake it out, but I notice the frown she’s wearing.
“What? Something else is wrong. What is it?”
She shrugs and shakes her head, a clear indication that I’m right.
“It’s just that…I don’t really have…”
“Just tell me,” I prompt when she keeps stammering.
“I wasn’t expecting to be getting a room, so I didn’t really bring that much money with me. And my card—”
“Hey, this was my idea. You wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t suggested we come to the beach.”
“But you wouldn’t have suggested it if I hadn’t asked you to teach me about tattooing.”
I can see that she’s genuinely bothered by having to admit the money thing.
“Do you know how many other ways we could’ve done this? I wanted to get you in a bikini. So sue me.”
I see the smile play at the corners of her sexy mouth. Makes me want to rewind to when I was just about to taste them again in the water.
“You’re just—”
“I’m a guy. I like looking at your body. This is my penance. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?” She doesn’t look convinced. “God! Stop beating me over the head with it! I said I was sorry! What do I have to do to make it up to you? Put you up for the night? Tend your wounds? Help you get ready for bed? Make sure you get all the important places washed in the shower?” I sigh dramatically. “Fine. Damn! I’ll do it. Just stop talking about it already. Shit, woman!”
Sloane laughs and I hold out my arm for her to lean against as we walk. I doubt she’ll take any more charity from me at the moment, so I won’t offer to carry her.
Even though I wouldn’t mind.
It’ll be a long time before I can get the feel of her pressed up against me out of my mind. In the meantime, tonight is liable to be pure hell.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Sloane
Not that I needed any more reasons to be enchanted by Hemi, but being on the receiving end of his careful attentions and seeing him take charge really adds another dimension to his appeal. And there was a whole lot of appeal there to begin with!
On the way to Savannah from Tybee, he pulled off at a huge convenience station, where he bought a bottle of vinegar and a box of baking soda. When I asked what they were for, he just muttered, “Don’t ask.” He also bought me a Coke and a Snickers, a combination that I was fond of before and now find nearly intoxicating. Even though I’m not sure why and I’m pretty sure it’s stupid to feel that way.
Now, I’m sitting in the car on the street in front of what looks like a mansion. It’s actually a posh hotel with a rich sunset-colored brick exterior, intricately carved moldings and a whimsical spire that looks perfectly at home with a horse-drawn carriage parked outside. If I had to guess, the building is probably some sort of historic landmark. It sits right on Forsyth Park, so waiting for Hemi to get us registered is hardly a chore.