Relentless Desire (Relentless Romances Book 1) Page 12

  “No.” She had her hand in her chin, her eyes glued out the window to the trees and shrubbery whizzing past on the freeway.

  She had been giving me mostly either ‘no’ or ‘yes’ with an occasional two-word answer. None of which added up into a conversation - a healthy one at least - and that’s what I wanted.

  I lifted my foot off the gas, figuring that getting to the Pearlwater Lodge a few minutes quicker wasn’t going to solve the problems between us. I shut the radio off and turned to look at Vanna as she stared out the window.

  “Vanna?”

  She stirred in her seat. I reached for her hand and covered it with my own, and though she flinched, she didn’t move away. We held hands like that for a while, and I was just about as tense as if a pole had been stuck up my ass and was coming out my mouth. I had to finally release her hand when I needed to navigate the long, curving drive up to the Lodge.

  It was quickly obvious that Pearlwater was named for the lake it was overlooking.

  There was no valet to park the car, but there was a row of vehicles lined up in front of a guardrail. I took my cue from the established crowd and found a spot and pull in and park.

  Even from the parking space we had a picturesque view of the lake. For several seconds, I leaned closer to the wheel to look out and admire the green-blue sheet that spanned for miles. The waters rippled softly with the breeze, but other than that, all was still on the lakefront.

  No one was out there. Pearlwater Lodge was as quiet as the city had been. I hadn’t yet decided if that was a bad thing. After all, quiet time was what I wanted with Vanna, but quiet also meant more time in my head.

  Vanna was slower to eject herself from her seat. I was already out and around the back of the truck with her overnight duffel and my backpack, when her riding boots finally hit the pebble road.

  I had to slow my pace to keep Vanna close to me. While I wasn’t expecting her to run off, my own insecurities were drawing me to her. That and I realized this could be the last day I would be with her if Vanna were to decide we’re through.

  It was enough for me to want to drop our bags, turn around, and squeeze her. To beg her to let me hug her like that forever.

  Get a grip. The thought coincided with my tightening grip over the straps of our bags and, subconsciously, I sped up my pace. After greeting the front desk agent and getting the ball rolling with paperwork, I looked back and saw Vanna finally trailing in.

  The entrance of the lodge was magnanimous, a cross between a chalet and cabin. Its furry door mat, hardwood flooring, bare overhead beams, and stone fireplace nailed the cozy vibe of the former while the slapdash log interior brought out the survivalist’s cabin.

  Luckily for us, it was more chalet than dry cabin where the electricity and water were considered. No water-hauling activity for us, though I imagined doing anything with Vanna at that point would be a blessing.

  “If that’s all, I’ll leave you and the Miss to explore. Thank you again for choosing Pearlwater,” the Lodge’s version of a bellhop said before he took his tip and ducked out.

  Neither Vanna nor I bothered to correct him, even though I knew she had heard him. She was a few feet away, facing the sliding door window that took up the whole eastern wall, but she was still within earshot.

  I came up behind her and saw the door Vanna stood in front of connected to a walkout deck. Just beyond the wood railing, Pearlwater’s lake stretched out as far as I could see. There were even four sets of lawn chairs set out for anyone that wanted to enjoy the view.

  “It’s really something, huh?” I asked, looking over her shoulder.

  “Mhm,” Vanna hummed her agreement.

  I was glad she was facing away. I didn’t need her questioning the scowl that formed because of her response. Disappointment tailed me to our bed, and I was so out of it that even the idea of sharing a bed again barely made a dent in my mood. I dropped off our bags at the foot of the bed and mumbled something about ‘freshening up’.

  I headed straight to the glass bowl of a sink and took a moment to figure out how to control the automatic tap. Once the water was flowing, I heaved handfuls of ice cold water over my face and under my hot collar. I leaned down over the bowl and held a chilled hand to the back of my neck while the other clenched the end of the sink’s glass.

  I sighed and slowly looked up, only to find my pitiful reflection staring back at me. The lack of sleep, coupled with the weight of my thoughts, made my beard look scruffier and my eyes bloodier. Vanna wasn’t going to want to touch me, let alone look at me like this.

  “Fuck.”

  A soft knock broke my locked stare into my own eyes. I hurried to grab a towel and did something about my appearance.

  “It’s open,” I called. “And I’m decent.” I tagged on the last part when the door didn’t open immediately.

  Vanna opened the door wide enough for her head and part of her torso to pop through. Her hand held the back of the door, as if that was enough to keep either of us from getting at each other if we really wanted.

  “The, um, Lodge’s staff came back again,” she informed me. “He brought complimentary snacks and Champagne.”

  “Isn’t that thoughtful,” I stated; my tone was wry.

  “Yes.”

  If she sensed anything off from me, she didn’t pry. Or, I started to tell myself, more than likely she doesn’t want to pry, because why should she? She isn’t yours anymore.

  “I might open a bottle and…” she paused, a sheepish look on her face. “Uh, that’s all.”

  I saw a familiar flush creeping up her cheeks as she pulled herself back behind the door. I clenched the towel I was holding while I watched the door close. Tensing was becoming lay-of-the-land for me with anything involving Vanna.

  I tossed the towel back on its shelf, forgetting all about my plan to spruce up for the lady, and headed out of the bathroom. I found Vanna standing near the table the staff had left the basket of snacks on, she was struggling with the wine. My strides brought me to her in a few steps, and I reached around to steady her hand over the bottle. She was going to hurt herself, and nothing would kill my plans to fuck sense into her more than seeing her bleeding.

  Vanna whirled slowly, holding out the bottle. Every part of her wide-eyed expression and parting mouth implied that she was well aware of our proximity; aware and affected by it. With the rollercoaster of a relationship we’d had so far, I was too wary to jump in with both feet based on just this one hopeful sign.

  I picked up where she left off and poured my confusion and frustration into opening the bottle. Vanna had gotten the foil off and the coil down, her struggle came with the cage. I made quick work of the remaining steps and kept my hand steady over the cork while I twisted the bottle until the telltale hissing of success bubbled out.

  I stretched my hand around Vanna and set the cork and cage onto the table next to our complimentary tulip-shaped glasses and treats.

  “Could you?” I asked, gesturing to the glasses.

  “Oh!” Vanna turned to the table and fetched the glasses to fulfill my request. She held them both out. Her nose was scrunched up with more effort than the task required, and it was fucking adorable.

  I accepted one flute, filled it to one-third, and passed it back for her safe-keeping while I filled the second. I set the bottle down, gripped my glass by the stem, and pushed it out towards Vanna.

  “What are we toasting?” I asked.

  Vanna’s unease radiated off of her. She started to redden before her stammer returned. “T-To new beginnings?” The squeak at the end changed the statement to a question.

  I sniffed the wine, and the bubbles tickled my nose. But it was just background noise as my senses zeroed in on Vanna. She was taking a sip and her mouth closed, but her tongue was working out the taste. I realized the bubbles had rushed to her nose when it wrinkled and she covered it with a hand.

  I hid the smile that began to form with my own sip of the wine. Just a moment later an
d I was the one wrinkling my nose. Sparkling wine was not my thing. With an empty stomach, the sweet, dry flavor was almost too much.

  “We should eat,” I said, setting my glass down on the table. My words caused Vanna to step aside, revealing more of the cart’s items.

  It was all thoroughfare stuff: small but fancy sandwiches, cheese and grapes, and watermelon. Finger food, essentially.

  “Burgers and fries would be nice about now,” I said, picking through the offerings.

  “Fries?” She tilted her head, looking even more adorable, if that was even possible.

  “Yeah. Something about wine and fatty foods just work for me,” I stated, though my words were based on the one and only time I had tried it.

  Vanna picked up a stick of cheese, peeled some of it off with that pretty mouth of hers, and chewed thoughtfully.

  “So,” I started, “I guess you’re having the cheese. I’ll grab the grapes and some sandwiches.”

  I picked up one of the extra plates on the cart and started to load it up for two. I felt Vanna’s eyes on me as I worked. Her lingering gaze was throwing me off. Without looking up to confirm her stare, I nudged my head back in the general direction of our bed.

  Our bed.

  The thought of it was only now starting to excite me. I continued to remain wary as I tread the rocky ground between us, but I had no plan to show any of doubt to Vanna… She had enough of that on her own.

  Vanna followed my suggestion and sat on the side of the bed. Her feet swung below, tracing patterns on the furry sheet of a rug under the four-poster.

  “Here we go,” I said, placing the plate next to her and then sitting at a comfortable enough distance for the both of us. I didn’t want to scare Vanna away and into the nearby arm chair. Or worse, watch her take off to the deck into one of those lawn chairs.

  The plate was piled high with our snacks, and it was as much of a physical barrier between us as our clothes were. It was also an emotional reminder that sex wasn’t a Band-Aid to the deeper wounds that were at work here.

  I kicked off my shoes, figuring I should get comfortable, then climbed up onto the bed.

  “Running out of wine,” I said as I noticed our glasses were emptying.

  I returned from the cart with the bottle and a brochure I had noticed lying on the cart. I studied it as Vanna filled our glasses over the dark wood bedside table. She sucked her thumb into her mouth, the consequence of her filling the glass to the brim.

  “New adventures?” I read from the back of the pamphlet before opening it and skimming through the contents. “They have canoeing here,” I commented.

  Vanna’s quiet directed my attention to her. I was starting to feel like I was alone in the room, but she was sitting right there, twisting a grape from its vine and popping it past those sweet lips. A dribble of grape juice, or maybe it was wine, coated her natural pink mouth in a sheer gloss. She pressed a tissue to her lips, then reached for another from the box by the bedside.

  My imagination was in overdrive and, unsurprisingly, my boxers were growing tighter by the second. I didn’t bother to close my eyes. That wasn’t going to rid me of the searing image of Vanna on all fours, her mouth lowering over my dick while her pert tongue dashed over my oozing head before she took my length down the back of her throat. Her head bobbed up and down my shaft, finally putting me out of my misery.

  “Let’s go,” I said, trying to redirect my attention to the here and now.

  I swung my legs off the end of the bed, ran a hand over my bare head, and got a good stretch in before I glanced back at Vanna’s confused expression.

  “Where?” she asked. She was standing though, and I figured that was a good sign that her interest had been piqued.

  “To explore the lake and find us some treasure.” I grinned. “By which I mean, canoeing.”

  Vanna followed me, though was silent while I answered a few questions from the staff and arranged our activity at the front desk. Soon, we were on a trail leading to the lakeshore. It wasn’t quite a beach, but it was wide enough for a campfire party or something equally backwoodsy.

  “First time canoeing?” our guide asked after we approached the canoe she was preparing for us.

  “Nope,” I answered, getting both Vanna and our guide’s attention.

  I explained how my grandfather, or Pops, had taken me and Iris out on his boat enough times during the summer that I considered myself well past the novice bracket. Vanna, however, was clearly a newbie, and I had sensed as much back in our room.

  Our guide was an older lady who knew what’s she was talking about – she was also intensely fascinated by Vanna and I.

  “What’s the occasion?” she asked in between routine safety instructions.

  Vanna stared at her, at a loss for words.

  Don’t worry babe, I got this.

  I smiled and grabbed her hand, then answered for the both of us, “Anniversary.”

  The word had my girl freaking. Her hand went stiff and I found myself doing all the hand-holding alone. I didn’t have to see her face to know she had that doe-in-headlights expression on.

  “Ah? How many years?” the guide asked, oblivious to Vanna’s trepidation.

  “Weeks, actually, and only one of those.”

  “Oh. That’s nice,” was her only comment.

  Her gaze returned to the canoe, and she picked up where she left off in her explanation of the basic mechanics of setting out on the self-guided boat expedition. Then, for the next part, I had to let Vanna’s hand go. I missed the warmth of her smooth, small palm the second it was gone.

  “The lake’s perfect for this today,” the guide said as she turned and staring out at the body of water spreading out before us. “Well, as long as you’re not planning to take a swim.”

  Her smile wavered as she glanced between us. I kept a placid smile on my lips, and I couldn’t make out if she was actually worried that we might try to take a dip in the nearly freezing water.

  “Enjoy your paddle,” she finally said, gesturing us to the canoe.

  “Aye, aye.” I saluted and gave her a quick wave as she made her way back to the hotel.

  We followed her instructions on securing our life vests, and once we were dressed for the occasion, I helped Vanna into her seat. Once she was in and ready, I pushed the canoe further into the water and then hopped over the side and into my seat before getting my feet into the icy water.

  “What should I do?” Vanna asked.

  She was looking around, her hands groping as if she wanted to grip something, to make them of use. I shook off the picture of her hands joining her mouth over my hard-on.

  “Absolutely nothing but sit there and look pretty, babe.” I said, failing to mask all of the erection-induced hoarseness from my words.

  Vanna must have sensed something. We were, after all, on one hell of a romantic date, plus there was the whole sharing a room and bed thing. She was all flustered by the endearment and gave me a side profile to try to cover as much of the embarrassment and building fizzle of lust as she could.

  Apparently once the faucet of lust was on, it couldn’t be turned off, not all the way. And I should know, Vanna was under my skin deeper than any ink could go.

  “How far are we going?” she asked while staring out into the lake. She was refusing to make eye contact with me.

  “As far as my muscles can handle.”

  I was concentrating on getting a handle of the paddling, keeping the boat steady, and preventing a pre-mature tip-over. It was taking more upper body strength than I remembered.

  Then again, my shoes hadn’t touched the bottom of Pops’ canoe, or any canoe, in well more than a decade. Plus, I suppose, Pops usually did most of the grunt work. He always told us that he didn’t trust me or Iris to not purposefully tip over the canoe for laughs, but it suspect that probably had more to do with letting us enjoy the outing.

  If it was the latter, an effort to let us make those good memories, then I would have to rem
ember to thank Pops. How he did this every summer until I left for university is beyond me. It had only been a few minutes, but the effort required to paddle was up there with Recruit drills. I could almost feel the hats breathing down our necks, pushing us for one last sit-up or mile around the track.

  The one upside of this muscle-burning, joint-aching task was that it was working the blood from one head to the other head – the head I needed. It was also helping me appreciate Vanna as she stared out across the lake in awe. She was swept up by the sights around her… and the sounds.

  “Oh, what kind of bird is that?” she asked after a melodic series of chirps rang out.

  “Not a pigeon, that’s for sure.”