Lana Page 3
Page 3
I pulled the little bows on each side of the string bikini, baring myself with a few simple motions. He groaned, and that made me weak. To affect him like that. It was all I had ever wanted. I ran my fingers over my sex, showing myself to him very clearly. I stroked my clitoris, then thrust a finger inside of my sex.
Abruptly, he closed his eyes, cursing. “I’m so sorry, Lana. Please, just get dressed. I was out of line. I’m sorry. ”
And just like that, all of my hopes were dashed, and I just felt dirty and ugly, and inevitably, unwanted. I grabbed a different bikini, this one skin-toned, but not tangled. I put it on hurriedly, stepping out of the car, and into the front seat. I couldn’t even look at him. “I’m dressed. Are we still going to the beach, or would you prefer to just drop me off?” I asked, my voice weak.
I knew Akira had finally opened his eyes because he suddenly began to curse. “Jesus, Lana, you look naked in that suit. That thing is indecent. ”
I glanced down at it, surprised by his words. The bikini was scant and skin-colored, but hardly indecent. I realized that he probably just didn’t want to see so much of my skin, especially after my sordid little peep show. He’d obviously seen enough. I felt my lip quiver at the realization. “Sorry. I’ll put a shirt on, and you can just drop me off at the hotel,” I said in the most even tone I could manage, opening the door to get my things.
He stopped me by grabbing my wrist in his hard grip, pulling me back into the car.
CHAPTER THREE
“I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. The suit is fine. Let’s just go to the beach, k?” His voice was oh so gentle, and I realized that he must have seen my lip quiver at his rejection.
I looked firmly out the window. I doubted I could ever look him in the eye again. “You don’t have to,” I said. I knew I sounded like a sullen child.
He made a little noise of sympathy in his throat, stroking my hair. “Oh, Lana,” he whispered. “I only ever seem to hurt you, no matter what I do. I want to take you to the beach. So let’s go, k?”
He spoke to me like I was a child with fragile feelings, and I was so pathetic that I soaked it up, knowing very acutely that even scraps were better than nothing. “K. ”
He patted the top of my head. It was a ‘good girl’ pat, but I didn’t protest. “Do you mind if I stop by my place to change real quick? I don’t have anything in the car, if you can believe it. Oh, and we need surfboards, of course. ”
“Oh, yeah, surfboards,” I said absently, just looking out the window, trying to keep my mind blank so I wouldn’t do something stupid, like cry in front of him.
The house he pulled up to was drastically different from the last time I had seen it. It looked like it was a completely different house now, all modern architecture and sleek, reflective windows. And it was noticeably bigger. “You expanded, huh?”
I felt him studying me, but I still didn’t look at him. “Yes. I’ve made quite a few changes, over the years. Come on in. ” He got out of the car as he spoke, coming around to my side and opening my door. I got out, looking at anything but him. He gripped my arm just above the elbow, pulling me firmly to his front door, then ushering me in. “I’ll be quick. Make yourself at home,” he said, stroking a hand down my hair, then disappearing up the stairs.
I walked through the main floor slowly, taking in all of the changes rather numbly. It had turned from a somewhat rundown beach house into an ultra-modern, sunlit infused haven. The color scheme was simple, with lots of white and pale gray and a few touches of bright color. A bright yellow vase on the mantle, and a colorful painting in the living area, just splashes of color here and there, all of the neutral bringing that color out more vividly. The whole space was open now, with only glass walls. But the windows were the most spectacular change, lining the walls now, letting in the light, for clear, clean views of the beach. Apparently, business had been good for Akira. I was glad.
Akira changed quickly, joining me near the window as I gazed at the ocean. He walked up behind me, and I still didn’t look at him.
He tugged on a lock of my hair gently. “Hey. Will you at least look at me?”
I finally did, and was immediately sorry. He wore only a pair of black board shorts, of course. I could see the many thick black tattoos that dotted the front of his muscular shoulders. The tribal patterns traced down to his mid back, I knew. I loved those tattoos. His abs were as washboard hard as ever. I tried not to drool as I took in his perfect naked torso. I finally tore my eyes away from his golden skin to look into his troubled gaze. “Your house looks amazing,” I told him.
He just nodded, studying my face. “I’ve upset you. How can I make it better?” he asked, his voice so serious and quiet.
I felt my face crumple, and he enfolded me in his arms. I buried my face in his chest, in the spot right between his muscular pectorals. I pressed my body full against him, wanting to stay wrapped in those arms forever. This was why I could never come back here. My feelings hadn’t dimmed with time; they’d merely been pushed back into a dark corner of my heart, ignored, as I was deprived of his intoxicating presence. But to him, to him, I was only a burden. A family friend with an inconvenient infatuation, I recalled, was how he’d phrased it. Those had been his words to Milena at the time. And that had been the day after I’d seduced him.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I said against his chest, not willing to pull away, even to speak.
He made that sympathetic little humming noise in his throat, kissing the top of my head softly. “It’s me. I’m a bastard. I’m sorry. And you’re probably tired from the flight. Wanna take a nap? We can try the beach later, or even on another day. ”
I made a sound of protest. “I leave in two days. ”
I felt his chest expand on a deep breath. “Wow. I was hoping you’d stay a bit longer. That’s so short, after all of those years away. Don’t you miss it here, just a little?”
I wanted to sob like a baby. I wanted to hit him. It was such a cruel question, coming from him. But I just stayed flush against him as tears ran down my cheeks in an embarrassing flood.
His chest rumbled in distress as he felt my tears streaming down my face and then his chest. “Oh, baby, how you must hate me. ”
I sobbed at that, because I didn’t. Because I couldn’t.
He picked me up, cradling me like the baby I was. He kissed my forehead as he carried me upstairs. My eyes were closed when he laid me on his bed. I wouldn’t let go of him when he tried to straighten. He laughed, a sweet little rumble against my cheek. “Is there a reason that you’re hanging onto me like a monkey?” he asked, amused.
“Can you stay with me, for just a minute?”
He made a soothing sound as he lay down beside me. I tried to cuddle closer, but saw that he’d put a pillow between our lower regions. I shrank back, my shoulders hunched. He was wary even to touch me. And he should have been. I was an infatuated fool, just like he’d said. I turned away from him, burying my face in his pillow. It smelled like him; I wanted to take it home. He threw an arm around me from behind, pulling my back against his chest, and my butt against the…pillow. He spoke against my ear. “We all missed you, you know. It hasn’t been the same without you. Not even close. ”
“I thought you hated me,” I said quietly, holding my breath to hear his answer.
He cursed, but stroked my hair, as though to soften the cursing. “Never, Lana. Never. I was afraid of that. Am I the reason you’ve stayed away for so long?”
I didn’t answer, and he squeezed me tighter. “You’re right, I just need a nap. I’m out of my mind tired. I’m not usually like this, I swear. ”
He sighed against me. “You take a nap. I’ll make us some dinner, k?”
I didn’t answer, just burrowed more deeply into his divinely smelling bed.
He kissed the top of my head before leaving me. He didn’t hate me, I thought, as I drifted off to sleep. It was something.
My tiny bikini suddenly felt so oppressive, and I untied the top impatiently, rubbing my nipples against his chest. The hand on my hip moved up, kneading at the pliant flesh. I turned onto my back to give him better access. He stroked my full, sensitive breasts until I squirmed. I untied my bikini bottoms, guiding his hand lower, putting his fingers right on my sex. His talented fingers took over from there, rubbing and stroking until I was panting.
I glanced at his face. His eyes were still closed, but his face was flushed, his breath harsh. “Mmm, Lana,” he murmured, his fingers plunging inside of me. His erection was pressed against my hip now, and I touched him, stroking him roughly over his shorts. “Milena,” he said, his voice sounding irritated. But still, the sound of her name on his lips froze me in my tracks. I tugged his busy hand out of me, extricating myself from him with regret. He didn’t know what he was doing, and I had very nearly taken advantage of that fact. I curled into a ball, shrinking away from him. I felt him wake with a start a moment later. He hugged me from behind again, as though nothing had happened, and began to relax back into sleep.
He felt along my hip, and then, very lightly, felt the spot on my back, where my bikini should be tied. He cursed, and I felt him begin to search for the missing scraps of material. I rolled onto my back, throwing an arm over my eyes. He sucked in a breath as he looked at me. He shook my shoulder lightly. I parted my legs slightly, arching my back a little to give him a better view, my arm still covering my eyes stubbornly.
I felt him freeze, and I knew that he was staring at me. He didn’t move for so long that I shifted again, parting my legs farther apart, wanting to see what he would do. Could he see how wet I was? The room was far from dark. From the light streaming in the window, I would have guessed that it was late afternoon.
I felt Akira move off the bed, and heard the sound of rustling clothing, then the unmistakable sound of flesh slapping against flesh.
He would rather jerk himself off than touch me, I thought, shocked and furious at the thought.
I lifted my arm from my eyes, unable to keep from looking. He was standing at the edge of the bed, gloriously naked, and gripping his huge erection in both hands. His jaw was clenched, his nostrils flared. He released himself as our eyes met, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. It was his favorite phrase lately. I hated it.
I ran my hands down my body, and his eyes followed them hungrily. “Is it really so hard for you to touch me?” I asked him quietly.