Unwrapped (6 page)

Now, now, now!
her
body screamed.

Would anyone notice if she slid her fingers beneath the edge
of her bathing suit to soothe the powerful ache touching him had created?

Already on the verge of a staggering orgasm, it would take
only a flick of her fingers to make herself come. She might drown in the
aftermath, but what a way to go, with Derrick's face dancing in her mind and
the waves of physical release bathing her body in potent, rhythmic surges.

Cradled in the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the
saltwater, her body thrumming, she floated on sensory overload.

Derrick Fox—handsome, tall, seriously built—a
fox, indeed. He had everything a girl could want. Personality, humor,
thoughtfulness. He was handy with tools, incredibly smart, a great dancer. He
worked hard and played hard, and he made her laugh. Who wouldn't be attracted
to him?

But first and foremost, he was her friend. Had she wrecked
it all now, with her sexual frustration and wandering hands? She could try,
somehow, to explain the super-intense breakup mania, or make some other stupid
excuse.

Of course, he hadn't exactly shied away.

Well, he was a guy, and guys would take their pleasure where
they could, right? If she'd learned nothing else from her mother's repeated
mistakes, it was that men truly only wanted one thing from women. Derrick was
more evolved than most, clearly capable of long-term friendship with women as a
group, and herself in particular, but he was still a man. A player. Barry
hadn't wanted her, but. . .

Wait.

Mia stilled. Was that the answer?

A gorgeous multi-hued light seemed to burst behind her eyes,
illuminating never-before-considered possibilities.

If she really was suffering from an overabundance of
long-term sexual frustration, who better to help her get past it than her best
friend? Who could she possibly trust more than Derrick?

No one.

They'd known each other for years. He cared for her. He'd
make sure she wasn't hurt. She found him attractive, and she'd heard through
the grapevine that he was pretty, um,
good
at sex. Sex with Derrick could be her perfect solution.

Remaining chaste had ceased to serve her best interests. The
men she dated either thought there was something wrong with her or worried she
expected a wedding ring. Either way, after ten years of celibacy, it hadn't
helped her find a guy who would stay with her any better than her mother's
habit of giving herself away to anyone who asked. There had to be a middle
ground.

Without her virginity weighting her down, without the rule
of her artificial timeline for sex, surely she'd finally be free to find her
real Prince Charming.

Why had she never thought of it before?

Giddy with excitement, embarrassment all but forgotten, Mia
dropped her legs beneath the water and swam toward shore. She'd have to entice
him somehow, get him thinking about her in that new, colorful light of
possibility. She'd start right now, with a sexy swagger to rival Allison's on
her way back to their blanket.

CHAPTER THREE

When Mia walked out of the water, a sea goddess deigning to
grace her mortal subjects, Derrick's cock pulsed inside his trunks like he'd
been hit with an electrical current.

He'd been right about the t-shirt.

The sheer, wet cotton clung to her every curve and outlined
the muscles in her belly and thighs. It highlighted the deep valley between her
breasts and caressed their swelling flesh above the fabric of the borrowed
bikini.

The thin, ten-dollar t-shirt was now his favorite of all the
shirts he owned. He sat forward, his hands clasped between his knees to
disguise the resurgence of his erection. She couldn't have looked any sexier if
she'd been wearing a thousand-dollar designer teddy.

She wrung her long, dark hair out as she walked, fluffing it
and tossing it over her shoulders, totally oblivious to the lustful glances
following her progress across the sand. And he thought,
That's my girl.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That's it
, Mia told
herself.
Work it
.

Hips swaying, she crossed one foot in front of the other as
she walked, recalling her modeling days. Derrick's eyes watched her from the
blanket. She could feel the heat of his gaze even from this distance, and it
gave her courage.

The dripping t-shirt clung to her body, streaming water down
her legs in a torrent. Not exactly the image she was going for, but was she
brave enough to bare herself in Allison's tiny suit in front of the entire
beach, let alone Derrick?

She brought her body clearly to mind as she'd stood gaping
at herself in the mirror, Allison's little floral scraps emphasizing the
fullness of her breasts, the roundness of her hips. The long, sleek length of
her legs.

Barry really was a prick, and an idiot to boot. I might
never be a size four, but my body rocks. Time to put it to use.

Decision made, still walking, she crossed her arms in front
of herself and grasped the edge of the shirt in her fingers. She kept her eyes
on Derrick, inching the shirt up a degree at a time, exposing more and more
skin. His hot gaze heated further, scorching her in its intensity. Just a few
more inches and—

With a startled cry, Mia fell face-forward, her left ankle
twisting in a hole that had, only a moment ago, served as a moat for a child's
sandcastle. Now hopelessly quashed beneath her body, she struggled to push
herself up from the mounds of sand while the child ran screaming to his mother.
Hot tears of humiliation burned behind her eyes, but she held them back through
sheer force of will.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

She couldn't get her breath, nor any traction, but before
she could try again to rise from the ashes of her pride, a flurry of male hands
reached forward and plucked her from the ground. Setting her smoothly on her
feet, they commenced to brushing the sand from her grazed skin, one in
particular a bit too enthusiastically, as he focused exclusively on the bare
parts of her bottom in the little bikini.

"Are you all right?"

"Here, let me help you."

"I've got her, let go, Rod."

Their voices melded into a cacophony to rival the seagulls.

Flustered, confused, surrounded by a bevy of strange men,
Mia opened her mouth—to say what, she wasn't sure. Thank you? Get
off?—but before she could utter a single syllable, Derrick was there, the
smile on his lips more like a baring of teeth, his eyes positively feral.

"I've got her, boys," he barked in a too-hearty
voice, taking her by the shoulders and physically removing her from most of her
would-be rescuers' reach. "That'll do, thank you. Thanks. That's
enough."

The last was said with force, finally catching her
bottom-brusher's attention, and the man's hands fell from her skin. Instead, he
held them up in a gesture of surrender, backing away from the threat in
Derrick's gaze.

When the men had slunk back to their towels and beach
chairs, Derrick turned to her, his expression softening. The tears fought
harder now, seeking release, but she bit the inside of her cheek.
Not now!

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Mia cleared her throat, not sure she could speak without
getting teary. "Mm-hmm. Fine. Thanks."

She brushed at herself, but it was hopeless. She was covered
in sand, from the top of her head to her feet. It was smeared into the wet
shirt and filled her hair. She had it in her mouth. The roughness of the beach
had abraded her skin, leaving tiny red streaks across her flesh.

And her ankle hurt, damn it.

Derrick swept his hands lightly over her, but she held up a
hand to stop him. "I think I'll just go back in the water and rinse
off."

"Need any help?"

"I can manage."

He watched her hobble off, she could feel the weight of his
stare on her back, but she didn't turn around to look. Her plan wasn't off to a
great start, but despite the fall, she felt more resolved than ever. It was
time to end this phase of her life, become a woman in truth, and move forward.
Derrick was the perfect choice for the starring role. All she had to do was get
her equilibrium back after her disaster on the beach. Regain a little
confidence.

She would
not
take
that stupid fall as a sign.

For the second time in less than an hour, she walked
straight into the surf, hoping for the water to cleanse the heat of
embarrassment from her body.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Derrick waited impatiently, but kept it casual when she came
back, as though nothing had happened. If anything, the smile he greeted her
with when she dropped to the blanket beside him probably said a bit too much
about the thoughts in his head, which had nothing to do with her falling. But
she kept her eyes downcast, fussing with the edge of his shirt where water
continued to course down her smooth, honey-toned legs.

"Nice swim?" he asked, by way of an ice-breaker.

Mia shrugged, color still riding her cheekbones. Derrick
took her blush for a positive sign. He wanted her a little off-kilter.

"Where's Allison?"

"Entertaining her latest conquest, by now," he
said.

"Oh."

Her blush deepened. Maybe thinking about Allison at home
having sex would get Mia thinking about touching him again, too. Being with him.
The more she thought about it, the more receptive she'd be to his plans.

He hoped.

She sighed, twisting her hands in her lap. The silence
between them stretched. By contrast, the cries of the gulls overhead seemed
suddenly over-loud. Distracting. He shifted, trying to recall his persuasive
arguments.

Now that she was sitting beside him again, the words stuck
in his throat. He hadn't counted on nerves, not now. But this was too important
to fuck up. He had to go carefully, make sure he expressed himself just right.

Derrick opened his mouth, but before the first syllable
crossed his lips, Mia spoke.

"I've been thinking," she said, still not looking
at him.

"Me, too."

This was it. His heart took up lodging in his throat. Their
lives were about to change forever.

"We've been friends a long time."

"Good friends," he agreed.

"Right. So. Here's the thing." She took a deep
breath, then looked him straight in the eyes. She had such pretty eyes. He
wanted to cup her cheek and pull her in for a kiss. "I'm really, really
tired of being a virgin."

"I know, I—" Wait. "What?"

"I think it's time to just, you know, be done with
it."

"Be done with it." His brain couldn't seem to
process. What was she saying?

Another deep breath. "And you know I love you, so much,
and I trust you more than anyone."

The rest of the world faded away. Stunning silence seemed to
roll over the earth like a muted sand storm, blocking everything but her voice
and the pounding of his pulse in his ears. The bright autumn sun sailed behind
a passing cloud, everything going momentarily dark and cold.

"I love you, too," he said slowly. These were
words they'd said to each other for years, and meant them. As friends. But. . .
"Mia, what—"

"I realized earlier," and she was suddenly
speaking very high and fast, "there's no one else on earth I would want to
help me get rid of this problem but you, and I was wondering if you'd be
willing to help me."

She finished on a squeak, her breathing shallow, but he was
the one who felt dizzy. Words like relationship, commitment, love, even
marriage had swum through his mind as he worked up his nerve to talk to her.
And she was talking about sex. An arrangement of some kind.

Derrick stared at her, at her nervous, fiddly fingers, at
the blush riding high on her cheekbones. His mind stuttered and stopped and
stuttered again. He kept adding two and two and getting five. None of this made
sense. Thirty seconds ago he'd been certain they were headed down a new path.
Together. All his dreams coming true. Now, they were like two trains on
parallel tracks, about to take a ninety-degree turn away from each other. Did
she mean—

"What do you mean, like a friends-with-benefits kind of
thing?"

She glanced at him sharply. "What? No, of course not.
That never works out, you know that. Look what happened to Debbie and
Steve."

Debbie and Steve. Disaster, chaos, recriminations. A
nightmare to be avoided at all costs.

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to realign his
thoughts. "What, then? Just a one-time thing?"

How the hell had he lost control of this conversation?

"Exactly," she said, smiling with relief, as
though he'd finally mastered a difficult mathematical equation. "Just, you
know, be my friend and help me out. Help me get rid of this albatross. Then it
won't be a big deal anymore."

"A big deal."

"Right. I mean, you know how guys have reacted about it
in the past. It's like a disease."

"Let me get this straight." Anger was a slow burn
in the gut, but growing steadily. She could not be serious. "You want me
to take your virginity so it won't be a problem with the guys you date."

"Well, I—" she began, but he threw his hand
up, commanding silence.

"And then we just go back to being friends," he
continued, the speed and pitch of his voice swelling, turning rougher,
"like nothing ever happened and I wasn't just the guy you gave your most
personal gift to, this thing you've been saving your entire life, waiting for
just the right person. You're just going to throw it away with me so you can
get it over with."

"Well, when you say it like that—"