Caramel Beach (Lessons in Pure Life Book 2) Page 2
Polynesia seems to have relocated to this little establishment. Bamboo lines the walls and carved statues stand in every corner, their toothy mouths grinning wide and frightening. A glossy longboard painted to glow in the dark is mounted on the ceiling above us. Neat, but where’s the surfer I’m here to catch?
“So what time’s Diego getting here anyway?”
There’s a chance I sounded casual just then.
“He said 7:30,” says Jose. “It’s eight. Early still. What’s your hurry?”
What’s my hurry? The anticipation is going to burn a hole in my chest, that’s what. Lovers’ rock plays loud. The bass thuds like a pulse in my ribs, but it’s not why my heart’s beating so fast.
Kat leans in to say softly, “Hey, he’ll be here.”
I nod. Tequila fairy makes me warm and soft, blurry around the edges. She puts color in my cheeks like Let’s go, wake up, but keep dreaming.
We order better drinks and wander around the tiki lounge. Bowls of wrapped candy sit at the bar and on low tables; globe lights hang at different heights around the room, cotton candy glow. Candy on candy. Kat’s found a bowl of fake cigarettes, the little white sugar sticks with red-dyed tips you can’t get at home anymore. She’s got one hanging out of her mouth while she focuses her phone on the cigarette pack label, squinting.
Tequila and I slosh forward, digging our hand in a big bowl of ring pops, jamming one on my index. The plastic ring pinches, but the pink sugar jewel tastes like watermelon Kool-Aid.
Sucking my ring, sipping my drink, I wander through a beaded curtain into a room with screens for walls. I wish this was my bedroom. Every surface is alive, covered in terracotta-potted plants. Like, plants everyfuckingwhere you look, all tangled together and vibrant, practically glowing. Smells like fresh earth and cigars.
Somebody wolf-whistles and I turn around hopefully. A few people are milling around, but none of them know me. What if he doesn’t show? Of course he will. But what if he doesn’t? Can’t tell if I’m just nervous or I actually have to pee.
I do a perimeter of the place but still no man. Deflated, I’m on my way back to Kat and Jose when I see a sign for baños down a dark flight of stairs. As I descend, my shoes stick to each step a little, like someone spilled a bunch of sweet vodka coolers from top to bottom.
Where the upstairs is stylish and colorful, the basement is bare minimum. There’s a purplish glow, the walls thick with black, glossy paint sprayed with ultra-violet coating that makes your teeth look too bright. A single unlit bathroom waits ominously at the very end of the hall. Like I’ve got glue under my shoes, each step sticks to the linoleum a little too long. A narrow mirror next to the door is smudged with god knows what.
The sink’s clean enough, but you’re crazy if you think I’m sitting my ass down on that toilet seat. I’ll hover, thank you very much. No wonder my legs are strong. The bathroom mirror is missing but there’s evidence it once hung over the sink.
Outside, careful not to touch the glass, I lean in to examine my reflection, patting at an imprint of supposedly waterproof eyeliner on my eyelid. When I glance downward, I’ve got to admire the prized goddess sandals that criss-cross in gold up to just above my knees. Legs for days. The girl in the mirror is happy and healthy, so why does it feel like I’ve got a black hole in the center of my body, yearning for the entire universe?
“Look who it is.”
Slow and familiar, the bass of his voice resonates some place deep, deep inside. His eyes on me are the sea surging over roads and houses, flattening trees. Diego standing there, leaning against the wall all edges and shadows, what can I do? Makes me wanna shoop. Even the tequila fairy’s like This is the guy? Criminy!
And I want him, bad.
Diego
“Hey, handsome. Cómo estás?”
My language gets wrapped around her tongue.
“Por dios, te ves deliciosa,” I mutter.
“Pardon?”
I went my whole life surrounded by brown eyes, and she shows up with a pair I can’t look away from.
“Nothing. It’s good to see you, Lia.”
Fucking gorgeous. Timeless. Her body, don’t tell me I could ignore it.
“You’re staring.”
“Lo siento.”
Be a gentleman. The way she looks at me sometimes tells me what I want, but I don’t want to misunderstand. Don’t ask me not to be a man. I could spend a week getting to know her, if you know what I mean. But there’s so much more to her than that. I like the challenge. You have to work hard just to get somewhere near her level. Her emotional intelligence fascinates me. Still, if she knew the way I want to fuck her, she’d never talk to me again. I can only take another sip of Imperial.
“You need a watch, man.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Tico time.”
Realization dawns on me. “Did I keep you waiting?” Shit.
“Hey, it’s all right. Gave me a chance to get a few drinks in me, anyway.”
Typical Lia. She’s luminous, her teeth glowing extra white against her skin. My ultraviolet fantasy. Her hair is thick from the salt in the air when she tucks it behind her ear. Almost immediately it falls, covering part of her face and most of an amber eye. I pull her hand in close to me, examining the candy ring she’s got on.
“What’s this?”
“Just some bling I picked up,” she says innocently.
“Who’s buying you jewels?”
“Um, Willy Wonka?”
“Well, he better keep his hands off my girl.”
My girl. Too soon. I clear my throat.
“Where’s Jose?” I swallow the rest of my beer.
“Upstairs…”
She drags the word out. I don’t want to wake up either.
“Hey, I got a new dress for this wedding reception,” she murmurs. “I think you’re gonna like it.”
“I bet you’re right.”
“You’re going to have to keep an eye on your date.”
“Couldn’t look anywhere else.”
I’m gonna need another drink. This situation’s fucked. I have to leave town if I want to live my own life, but my future’s blending with my past. That’s the worst of it, knowing she’s finding her place in my fucking hometown and it’s there that makes me go out of my skin. She’s already evolved from her discovery phase, so far ahead of me, and younger, too. I’m falling behind.
Lia
So many things I’ve forgotten: his foxy cheekbones, the way his lips part, the man-bun he’s been rocking since before it was a thing. The direct gaze that’s not afraid to let everything pass between us silently. Keeping me guessing. And there’s that familiar, faintly guilty way he gets around me, so that I’m dying to know what he’s thinking.
“How was work?”
As if that’s what I’m wondering about. All my plans for being cool and chic are inaccessible. My legs are locked at the knees, but I think I’m pulling it off all right.
“Good. Finished,” he replies succinctly.
He’s not giving me much, but his expression says otherwise. I feel shy just looking at each other. In person again, it’s so completely different. He’s nearly licking his chops. Good sign, usually. I want to throw myself at him but I don’t. There’s no real reason to hold back, but my legs are concrete. Instead I keep talking.
“You don’t say much, do you?”
“No.” He takes a swallow. “But I’m thinking plenty.”
“About?”
“Come closer and I’ll tell you.”
Move, legs, move toward him.
“Is it a secret?” I ask, taking a step.
Diego shrugs. Shyness cruises over him but doesn’t hang around. It fades like jet stream in a blue sky.
“I could say it loud, but I’d rather whisper it to you.”
That’s all it takes. I’m drawn into his atmosphere natural as the moon rolling over the earth. When he speaks, the vibrations of his voice slip inside my ears, fi
ll my head to capacity. How near he is, finally.
“Spill your secrets,” I tell him softly.
He leans in, eyes bouncing around my face.
“You. Drive. Me. Crazy.”
Stomach drop. Diego’s intensity adds to my tequila daze.
“Mi hermano!”
Our heads snap toward the stairwell. Jose’s bright face peers down, squinting into the dark. His mouth makes a surprised O when Diego shifts and I’m revealed behind him.
“Qué tal, buddy?” Diego calls out.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m interrupting,” Jose backpedals.
“It’s okay, man, it’s good to see you,” Diego laughs, suddenly casual.
“Well, come upstairs then. It’s creepy down there, you weirdos.”
Jose’s got a knack for breaking tension. We climb the stairs, my hips swaying back and forth a few steps in front of my companion to catch him up on anything he’s forgotten. Special effects, right?
Back on the main floor, bro hugs are exchanged and drinks ordered. The four of us and a couple of friendly Brazilian backpackers Jose and Kat have been playing darts with sit around, sipping beers and eating candy. We don’t need to hit anything hard tonight. Instead the mood is soft as the ocean air rolling through the open windows and doors. Some Chinese girls are playing neon arcade games in the corner, videogame beeps mixing with Mandarin. It’s one of those perfect spots you stumble into as a traveler, on just the right night. Sometimes I’m stressing about pickpockets in this part of the world, but not here, not now. This might just be the safest haven in the Milky Way.
While we move around the bar with this impromptu group of friendly faces, I catch glimpses of Diego looking at me. I’m watching him too, closer to me than he’s been in weeks but still far enough away to admire. Everything’s beginning to come back to me, the complexity of him. He’s the biggest, best thing in the room and that’s just his packaging.
“It’s almost time for pizza,” Kat announces to our general assembly. Jose nods in agreement and in time with the retro-wave music that’s been chilling us out for the past hour. It sounds like an old VHS movie about the future.
“Jose’s in. Anyone else?”
The Brazilian guys are. Diego and I share a glance.
“Thanks,” he replies on our behalf, “but we’re gonna catch up. Or something.”
This is just the beginning of what’s going to happen between us.
CHAPTER 3
Lia
We meander back to the hostel in the wet sand, the surf to our left. The moon is full and bright, bouncing off the gentle waves that roll into the bay.
My first few months in Costa Rica were rich with the exhilaration of my new environment. I landed in the lap of a whole new life, just like that. After working all month in Pacifica without him, being with Diego again sends those early memories bobbing up to the surface. He’s got this sharp energy beneath the layers and layers that make up a man. Intimidation is what he inspires, followed closely by strange physical sensations that spell your undoing. He triggers an energy in me that could tear the hood off a car. And I’m sure as hell not on flakka.
He slides his arm around my waist like he can hear me. We walk a few steps before he stops and turns to face me.
“I wouldn’t hate it if you’d let me hold you.”
The waves crash endlessly behind us, a soaking-wet heartbeat. I’m still strung up in his words when he closes the empty space between us.
“You’re on fire,” he tells me, hands making a ring behind my back so we’re suspended in some kind of stained glass embrace. And it burns…
“Hey, thanks.”
“You sure know how to put yourself together, gringa.”
Blush.
“I’m not the only one.”
He sighs and I wait patiently. Indecision slows his expression, crystalizing in his delay.
Whatever it is goes away.
“Did you enjoy your time, you know, without me distracting you?” he asks.
“It was busy, but we got a lot done at the new school. I can’t complain.”
“I wish you would.” He pulls me in closer.
That one gets me. His slow kiss disappears everything around me before I’m even sure it’s happening. Lips softer than I remember, the light scrape of his chin on mine. A rugged feeling so welcome it can stay for dessert.
“You’re trouble,” he breathes.
“The best kind of it,” I reply.
“There’s nothing I can do about it, is there?”
“I doubt it.”
Bowing his head, he lowers his eyelids.
“I forgot what this is like,” he laughs tiredly, rubbing his cheek with his hand. “You still take me by surprise.” He tilts his head, considering me tenderly but wincing, like it hurts to admit it. Watch and see my defenses lower to unprecedented depths.
I press against him, not sure whether I’m teasing him or me. His palm is warm on the back of my leg.
“How’d you get your skin so soft, anyway?” he whispers, stroking my thigh gently until it evolves into a grasp, the tips of his fingers pushing into my flesh.
“Magic.”
“It’s working.”
I laugh, breathless. “So what do you wanna do?”
“Right now?”
I nod.
He pulls me in by the bottom with both hands. “Get to know you all over again.”
All right. I let myself melt into his warm, hard body like a cinnamon heart stuck to a paper Valentine. He leans down and kisses my forehead, my jaw, my neck. He inhales my hair, clutching my loose waves in his fist.
We’re both out of breath when we pull away from each other.
“I could really go for a swim right now, could you?” asks my voice from somewhere far away.
“I was just thinking you should get undressed.”
When I look around there’s only a slight blur as my head turns from side to side. Still mostly capable of all kinds of things.
“You good?” he teases, looking on either side of him.
“Even better.”
“It occurs to me,” he puts his hand on his chin like he’s thinking hard, “that you’re wearing such beautiful clothes.”
“Muchas gracias.”
“Indudablemente. But the saltwater, it’s very bad for the material, no?”
“That’s so considerate of you.”
“As a local expert, I suggest you leave them here on the sand where it’s safe.”
“As a local expert?” I challenge, laughing.
“Absolutely,” he confirms. “It’s all an extension of my kingdom.”
“Right…”
“Anyway, it’s just a suggestion.” He holds his hands up, like no pressure.
It’s all I can do not to jump him right there. Instead, I finger the button of my shorts. His eyes widen and trail to my waist with slow-burning ambition.
“I will if you will,” I venture.
Don’t try this at home, kids. Alcohol-induced confidence can take you further than you want to go, but luckily I’ve got some experience. He watches me under the gentle spotlight of the moon. The clothes dissolve into my shadow, falling off like just another fading memory.
Standing there still as granite, his hands are held loosely behind his back, labor-carved arms on display. I gape at them shamelessly. No, regally. It’s a regal gaping.
“Don’t stop, por favor.”
He clears his throat tersely. There’s something thick straining against the zipper of his shorts, accentuated by the way his hands have jammed inside those fabric pockets, muscles taut like he’s carrying invisible grocery bags. Shoulders heaving lightly as patience is chased away by sex.
“Don’t wait,” I retort.
Pulling his shirt by the collar, he tears it over his head. Give me a break. That’s a fit man, all right. His naked shoulders and arms are at the top of their game from three weeks of hard labor. Cuts and scrapes decorate them like badges.
For a sec his face flickers with appreciation, and I’m given the briefest of warm smiles, like maybe he’s not used to being complimented.
“What else you got under there?” I ask.
“Plenty,” he promises confidently. Somebody pass me the hot sauce.
Once I’ve undone the clasp at my back, I drop my arms to my sides and raise my head. In my eyes he finds permission, and I don’t stop him when he reaches out slowly, gently moving his callused fingertips across the delicate skin of my collarbone. Nothing feels better than him easing each strap toward the edge of my shoulders further, further until the whole piece slides off, down over my breasts until they’re bare. He makes a sound like he’s happy and hurting at once. I sweep my hair away from my face and let it hang down my back. Take me now, then again and again.
“You’re a long way from your home country, Lia.” His voice is coated in gravel as he unzips his shorts.
“I sure am.”
The way he’s watching me while getting naked, it could stop a girl’s heart if she’s not careful.
“And now you’ve traveled from your new home to be my date, meet my friends…”
“That’s right.” I wonder where this is going.
“And this after you’ve been working your ass off in Pacifica…”
His belt buckle clinks as the shorts slip off and hit the sand.
“I appreciate that. Do you know how much?” he asks.
Royal blue boxer-briefs pull against his thighs and hug his package in a way that’s got me jealous.
“How much?”
“I think it shows,” he says bluntly, looking down at himself.
It certainly does. He moves toward me and stops so close we could be touching but aren’t. The sexual tension is still so new the price tags are on.
“Come on.” I turn and walk toward the water.
I’ve got to admit, I drove all the way down here for this. I mean, I think there were other reasons, but right now my only goal is doing an hour of cardio with his big, gorgeous body. His words of gratefulness are icing on my cupcake.
When my toes hit the warm bay, I look over my shoulder and beckon him. He’s whipped off his royal blues and is already heading toward me.