Swept Away (Wildfire Lake #3) - Skye Jordan Page 0,45
thing you like.”
I look up and do a little prissy clap. “Green curry?”
He nods.
I playfully melt against him. “You certainly know the way to a woman’s heart.”
He sighs, his hand sliding over my hair. “If only.”
My mind fills with the memory of last night’s kiss. I spent half the night wondering if that kiss was a preview to how good he’d be in bed. Rumor has it, he’s unforgettable. And right now, still hurting over the failure of my last relationship because that man slept around, I remind myself that I don’t want to go down that road again. Especially not with one of my very best friends. Sex is a lot easier to find than friends like Xavier.
I pull away and pick up the bag while he takes my keys and opens the door.
“I was going to put the food inside, but I was pleased to find your door locked.” He holds the screen door open as I pass through and sets the food on the counter. “Want to talk about what happened back there?”
I sigh and give a one-shouldered shrug as I take the food containers from the bag and set them on the counter. “He’s seen the error of his ways. Or so he says.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“It’s irrelevant. I don’t love him anymore. Pain tends to taint even the most precious things in life.”
Xavier strips out of his uniform shirt, his body armor, and his duty belt, tossing them all on the futon while I pull out plates and utensils and dish up food.
I’m struck by the normalcy of the situation, by the level of comfort we share with each other. A pang of longing hits me. Just as I think I miss this, Xavier slides his arms around me from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder. The pang drops lower in my body and turns into a vicious pull.
Truth be told, I haven’t had a particularly difficult time with my celibacy for the last year. The only man who’s ever made me think about or want sex during that time is Xavier. That desire was so much easier to ignore when I could keep walls up between us.
His body feels utterly divine against mine. Big, strong, warm. The faint scent of his cologne or soap mixes with the unique scent of Xavier, making me hungry for something completely different from Thai.
But all I have to do is think about one of the many times I’ve seen him out with different women for my mind to shut off those thoughts.
“Then why are you melancholy?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Seeing him is just… It brings back all the pain. I guess I’m just mourning the love I thought we had.”
He hums at my ear and kisses my neck.
I offer him a plate of food, and I’m both relieved and disappointed when he releases me to take it. “Let’s eat on the back deck.”
He reaches down and pulls his one chilled beer from the fridge, then replaces it with one from the cupboard.
I smile. “Who says men can’t be trained.”
“Ha. Now if some genius could figure out how to make it happen with women…”
By the time I meet him on the deck, he’s pulled off his boots and rolled up his uniform pants and sits on the edge of the swim platform, his feet in the water. I turn off all the lights so we can appreciate the starry sky and the water under moonlight. I sit beside him, dropping my feet in the cool water.
The last dinghy carrying Bodhi heads toward the body of the lake.
“Looks like everyone is back at their boats,” he says.
“I hear a bit of melancholy in your voice tonight too. What’s wrong?”
He sighs. “It’s just Piper.”
“What about her?”
While we eat, he tells me about Willow and Dale being at Piper’s house and how Karen didn’t come home until 3:00 a.m.
“Piper’s playing with fire,” he says, “and she’s still lying to me. I don’t know what to do to get through to her. Karen isn’t helping. She’s more interested in being twenty again than being a mom. I suggested that Piper stay with me when Karen’s going to be out late, and you’d think I’d told her she was looking old for her age or something. She was totally offended, saying I was insinuating she was a lousy mom.”
“That’s got to make Piper feel like shit,” I tell him. “There’s nothing worse than feeling like you’re an afterthought or a nuisance