What I Did for Love (Wynette, Texas #5)(17)

The door opened, and Bram ambled down the steps. This time he was alone. The hope that he might have followed her blossomed as he slouched into a bucket chair not far from where she was standing and looked her over. The combination of his preppy Skip haircut, golden beard stubble, and a brand-new tattoo circling his thin bicep just beneath the sleeve of his knit shirt thrilled her. He draped one leg over the chair arm and took a slug from his drink, his eyes still on her.

She tried to think of something clever to say. “Great party.”

He gave her his familiar bored look, lit another cigarette, and squinted at her through the smoke. “You weren’t invited.”

“I showed up anyway.”

“Meaning that Daddy’s out of town.”

“I don’t do everything my father says.”

“That’s not the way it looks to me.”

She shrugged and tried to look cool. He flicked an ash on the carpet. She’d never been able to figure out what she’d done to earn his dislike except get paid more, and that wasn’t her fault.

He pointed his drink toward the deck. “Party getting a little too wild for you?”

She wanted to tell him that watching girls demean themselves depressed her, but he already thought she was a prude. “Not at all.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t know me. You only think you do.” She’d tried to sound mysterious, and maybe it was working because his eyes slid over her in a way that made her finally feel as if he was really seeing her.

Her orange curls had gone wild with the humidity, but her makeup looked good. She’d used bronzy shadow on her eyes and nude-colored lipstick to downplay her mouth. The leopard-print halter dress wasn’t anything Scooter Brown would wear, and she’d emphasized the difference by sticking cutlets in her bra, but as his gaze came to rest on her breasts, she had the feeling he knew they were fake.

He blew a thin ribbon of smoke. “I bet you’re still a virgin.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m eighteen. I haven’t been a virgin for a couple of years.” Her heart began to pound at the lie.

“If you say so.”

“He was an older man. You’d know who if I told you, but I’m not going to.”

“You’re lying.”

“He had this hang-up about powerful women. That’s why I finally had to break up with him.” She loved how worldly she sounded, but his mocking smile wasn’t reassuring.

“Daddy Paul wouldn’t let an older man get near you. He never lets you out of his sight.”

“I got here tonight, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess you did.” He drained his glass, ground out his cigarette, and stood. “Let’s go then.”

She stared at him, her confidence slipping away. “Go?”

He jerked his head toward a door with an anchor etched into the wood. “In there.”

She gazed at him uncertainly. “I don’t…”

“Forget it then.” He shrugged and started to turn away.

“No! I’ll go.”

And she did. Just like that. Without asking anything of him, she followed him into the first stateroom.

A half-dressed couple sprawled on the double berth. They lifted their heads to see who’d barged in.

“Beat it,” Bram said.

They scrambled from the berth.

She should have gone with them, but she didn’t. Instead, she stood there in her leopard-print dress and platform sandals with corkscrews tightening her carrot hair and watched the door close behind them. She didn’t ask why he’d developed this sudden interest in her. She didn’t ask what value she placed on herself to follow him like this. She simply stood there and let him press her to the door.

He splayed his hands on each side of her head. His thumbs slipped into her hair and snagged on a curl. She winced. He angled his head and kissed her with his mouth open. He tasted of liquor and smoke. She kissed him back with everything she had. The stubble on his jaw abraded her cheek. His teeth bumped against hers. This was what she’d wanted, for him to see her as a woman instead of as a kid he had to rescue from scripted jams.

He snagged the hem of her dress and pushed it up. She wore a frail pair of bikini panties, and the zipper on his jeans scraped her bare stomach. He was going too fast for her, and she wanted to ask him to slow down. If he’d been anyone else, she’d have pushed him away and told him to take her home. But this was Bram, her home was half a continent away, and she let him slip his fingers into her panties and touch her however he wanted.

Before she knew it, he’d gotten rid of her panties and pulled her to the berth. “Lie down,” he said.

As she sat on the side of the bed and felt the boat’s engines vibrating through the thin fabric of her dress, she told herself this was what she’d been dreaming about. He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out a condom. It was really going to happen.

Despite the cabin’s air-conditioned chill, her skin was damp from nerves. She watched him kick off his jeans and tried not to stare at his penis, but it was fully erect, and she couldn’t look away. He peeled his polo shirt over his head revealing a bony chest with threads of pale blond hair. She studied the ceiling as he pulled on the condom.

The bed was high, and he didn’t have to reach far to slide her hips to the edge. She fell back on her elbows, and the skirt of her dress bunched beneath her. He hooked his hand under her knees, splayed her legs, and stepped between them. His expression was intent, his eyes smoky as he gazed down at her. She was helplessly open, and she’d never felt more vulnerable.