What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 9) Page 39

  A weighted hush fell over them, soaking in the life change they hadn’t fully considered.

  “Wow.” Even JC seemed robbed of words…for a minute. “Speaking of weddings, why do you wear an engagement ring on the wrong hand?”

  “JC,” Tracy snapped, nipping a warning to her little sister.

  “What?” JC shrugged innocently. “Oh, come on. We’re gonna be family tomorrow. It’s not like I’m the only one that’s curious.” She teased sarcastically. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

  John lifted her hand to inspect the rock on her finger.

  Shayla’s stare targeted John.

  “Hey, don’t pin this on me.” John lifted one shoulder with a nod of admittance. “I am curious though.”

  His reaction captured his sisters’ attention. JC shot Tracy an I told you so nod.

  A powerful rush of emotions made her throat ache with discomfiture. She stumbled through her explanation. “I’m not engaged. He…Mat proposed over Thanksgiving.”

  John remained quiet and relinquished her hand into the effervescent bubbles.

  Shayla got the distinct feeling he was patiently waiting, waiting for JC to fill in the gaps.

  Right on queue JC snickered, “And? Why the ring if you’re not engaged?”

  “I didn’t have an answer.”

  “So, you’re wearing the ring on the right hand while you consider the proposal?” Her forwardness bordered on brash, yet she spun it with a sincere innocence.

  Shayla’s stomach twisted from the tension gathering between her and John. He’d been eyeing her ring from the moment they met. She could tell he wanted to ask about it back at the wall, and oddly enough, she had the unfaltering urge to explain, but was interrupted by his sister. “Basically.”

  “How long have you been dating?”

  “Almost two years.”

  “Two years?” JC slapped the water and jumped to her feet in the center of the Jacuzzi, throwing her hands to the heavens. “This is why I only date.”

  Shayla startled at her exuberance.

  “Boyfriends are too hard to get rid of and the business of breaking up is awful. Having a boyfriend is like having an uncommitted commitment.”

  “Here we go, another round of JC’s dating philosophy.” John drowned his mockery in his glass of wine.

  “Come again? What do you mean?” Shayla hung on JC’s every word, her spry youthful spirit filled with ripened wisdom.

  “If you’re committed to a boyfriend then you’re not dating, right?”

  “Right,” Shayla agreed.

  “If you’ve been dating for over a year and you’re still not sure if he’s the one, then you, chica, are burning daylight!”

  “It’s really not that simple.”

  John added, “Yeah, lil sister, it’s not that easy when politics are involved.”

  Even though his tone was pleasant, the words sliced through the water, jabbing at Shayla’s heart. He stared straight at her, watching carefully to see if his words stung.

  They did.

  JC continued. “Actually, it is that simple. Boyfriends who aren’t right for you are like having a huge piece of luggage strapped to your back. Life is too damn short. Cut the relationship ripcord and date.”

  “Don’t listen to her.” Tracy shot her sister a warning. “She’s anti-marriage.”

  “I am not anti-marriage. I simply think dating makes more sense. Breaking up is exhausting and sucks the life out of you. Typically it’s the same routine. You try to break up, he convinces you to give it another shot. You’re simply prolonging the inevitable.”

  Stunned by her absoluteness, Shayla blinked. The reality of her statement seeped into her pores with the steam floating at the surface. She glanced at Tracy for input.

  Tracy interjected, “I think people come into our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime. Maybe he’s more of a reason than a lifetime, you know, but it’s possible you’re supposed to grow from the relationship. But JC’s right about the ripcord, life is too short.”

  “If you’re not sold on him yet, how much longer are you willing to wait? Time is rushing by! Mr. Right could be next to you at any given moment.”

  Shayla’s gaze drifted to the man at her right. Their eyes met with such force, it licked through her body like a hot flame.

  “How come he’s not here for the wedding?”

  Her prolonged silence filled the cool evening air with curiosity. “I didn’t tell him. Mat thinks I’m working.”

  JC’s brow raised to a point. Her mouth opened, forming a big O fish mouth. “You can’t trust him enough to bring him to the wedding?”

  Tracy shot a soft elbow to her sister’s ribs, giving her a quick shake of the head.

  JC twisted her finger in a locking motion in front of her lips. “Chicka-lock. I won’t say another word.”

  Colored with shame, Shayla felt even more foolish watching a light of understanding flash across John’s eyes as blatant as the moon’s shimmering stripe etching across the surface of the sea. “I couldn’t risk telling anyone about the wedding. It’s not like he would tell anyone on purpose, but if he accidentally let it slip out—”

  “You don’t need to explain,” John said.

  The conversation swirled on around her as Shayla sank deeper in her thoughts. She couldn’t ignore the choice she needed to make when she returned to California. Her answer to Mat leaned further and further to denial, yet she wasn’t certain. She was certain, however, of the sensual awareness she felt for the man sitting beside her. The tenderness in his voice and smile made her dizzy. Shayla wanted to know everything about him, and Lord knows she wanted to reach out and touch every inch of him. Guilt mixed with longing. Her heart thrashed wildly inside her chest the closer she crept to John.

  By the time the girls said goodnight and retreated inside, she and John sat so close their thighs brushed. The sensual scent of him drifted across the water and ignited her senses. Her body ached painfully, the desire building like a storm, nearly unbearable.

  Neither spoke, seeming unsure of what to say. The sultry air eddied around them like dense fog.

  “Don’t let my little sister’s dating philosophy or twenty questions upset you.” He splashed his face with hot water and scrubbed his fingers through his dark hair. Irritability cloaked him like the sudsy bubbles. “I’m sure you have your reasons for waiting.”

  “How did you—”

  “I asked Tom.”

  “Oh.” She nodded. The fact he inquired about her sent a rush of delight through her. “JC’s right, you know. She just has the courage to say it like it is.”

  He lifted a dark brow, looking amused and encouraged. “Believe me, it’s a blessing and a curse.”

  “I just expected it to be so different,” she confided, unable to stop the words from spilling out of her mouth. It was dangerous to be so close to him, to open up and share her feelings about Mat and his proposal. She felt safe with John. She could tell him anything, and he wouldn’t judge her. “I thought if a person had the right qualities and a kind character, everything would fall into place.”

  He pumped his fist, squirting water into the air, ciphering her words. “I guess I believe more in Fate than a check list. My parents always taught us that everything in life happens for a reason.”

  Sorrow lingered speaking of his parents. “One of my father’s favorite quotes was Life isn’t measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. He just refused to waste a day.”

  “Destiny.” She nodded absently, closing her eyes and sinking lower onto the jet.

  John reached around her shoulder, pulling her through the water so the back of her thighs rested against his knees. She stiffened in surprise, attempting to plant her feet on the bottom of the Jacuzzi, but buoyancy made her float onto the edge of his lap. His strong fingers manipulated the sore muscles on her neck and shoulder.

  “John, you don’t have to…” Shayla could barely speak, atte
mpting to decline the back rub. Within seconds she melted into his touch. “Oh.”

  “Shhh. You’ll like it,” he assured, both hands working jointly up the blades of her back, applying pressure in slow wide circles. “I understand Tracy’s theory that people come into our lives for a reason, a season or lifetime.”

  “You mean to teach us something?” Arousal coiled around her as his hands moved in strong gliding strokes, searching out the sore muscles. Time slowed and her breathing came in deep long breaths. The smell of his wet hair clung to her senses. She could taste the scent of him.

  “Yes. Then there’s those friends you get together with a few times a year, but it feels like you saw them yesterday.”

  “What about lifetimers?” she questioned in a hush. His rough-worked hands coasted downward to the middle of her back, slowly and effortlessly exploring one side then the other with strong rotations.

  “Well, I guess those people would be the ones you love enough to endure a lifetime.”

  The quiet night sky fell over them. The intimate act of his hands on her flesh brought clarity to her surroundings. The chilled air felt crisp on her damp face and her chest burned with building sentiment. Calluses on the pads of his hand added to his masculinity, and the involuntary tightening of muscles deep in her center threatened to erupt at any moment.

  John swept her sodden hair over one shoulder, the texture of his fingers making her tremble. “Feel good, Shay?”

  His breath tickled her ear.

  She trembled with acute awareness. Shayla knew exactly how his lips would feel on her neck. The heat, the tenderness, the urgency. “Yes,” she whimpered softly, dropping her chin to her chest, giving him full access to her nape.

  His hands dipped to the silk skin at her waist.

  John adjusted her bottom further back onto the middle of his thighs. Her legs dangled freely in the water. As he gripped her hips for steadiness, a vision flashed through her of what it would be like to make love to him. Shayla could feel the ghost of his hands exploring her body, bringing her to life, the rise and fall of his hips, and his mouth exploring her skin.

  Reveling in the power of his thighs beneath her, she mindlessly squirmed backward. Her breathing came in shallow pants. She wanted to feel him, needed to know if he desired her.

  John remained fixed, purposely not allowing to her to ease onto his lap.

  His right hand drifted down her arm, exposing her hand and ring from the water. He brushed a few loose wet ribbons of her hair from her neck, grazing his lips over her shoulder. “So technically, where does that leave you, Shay? Right now?”

  She molded her back to his rigid chest. The pounding of his heart sent a zing of excitement through her, an overwhelming feeling of connection and intimacy for a man she barely knew.

  “Technically, we’re on a break.” Her tongue felt heavy and dry. “I told him I would have an answer when I get home.”

  After a long pause, he lifted her from his lap and turned her to face him. “And do you have an answer yet?”

  The cool night air drew steam from her hot skin. She couldn’t find the strength to reply. Fine hairs on her arm stood up as his dark eyes bore into hers with hope. Her nose wrinkled as she tried to hold back the tears. Her chest felt heavy with regret and she didn’t realize she was crying. “I’m sorry.”

  The lines near his eyes crinkled in discouragement. “Well, what are you crying for, Shay?”

  He pulled her between his thighs and wrapped his arms around her, stroking her wet hair.

  She sniffed, shaking her head once.

  “It’s a simple yes or no answer that only alters the entire rest of your life.” He tried to make her smile, but his was voice laced with pity and frustration.

  She draped her arms around his neck, laying her cheek on his shoulder. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I never cry.”

  “I don’t smell like an onion, do I?”

  “What? No.” Shayla pulled away, getting a peek at his smiling face. “I want to tell you my answer is no, but I’m not totally certain. I need to give him my answer before I can…” Her gaze caught on his mouth. “Before I could…”

  He hauled her close, their faces a mere inches apart. His playful grin broadened. “So you do like me.”

  She put on her best poker face for a whole three seconds before looking skyward with a huge grin. “You’re okay.”

  John released her and jolted out of his seat. “Do you think you can fly to California, give him your answer, and be back before the wedding tomorrow?”

  Stepping out of the Jacuzzi, he grabbed a fluffy white towel and wrapped it around his waist, holding another one open to swathe around her wet body.

  Shayla appreciated his effort to keep the atmosphere humorous. “I think it might take longer than that.”

  “I could go with you.” He grabbed another towel and scrubbed it through her hair as if they’d know each other for years. “The flight back would be…very turbulent.”

  His low voice reverberated through her like a sweet caress.

  Shayla stared at his dense collarbone heaving with each breath. Her gaze wandered up the textured skin of his throat, heat spreading everywhere when their eyes met and held. She swallowed hard.

  “I suppose a text denial would be out of the question?” he joked, but seriousness dripped to his humor.

  Overwhelmed with a multitude of emotions, she began to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. “I—that wouldn’t be—I”

  He took careful measures, inspecting her reaction. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  “I don’t know how you could understand when even I don’t understand.” Her words trailed off into the darkness.

  Making their way inside, temptation to try to explain her feelings lurked at each passing doorway. They remained subdued until reaching her bedroom door. She trembled all over. In an act of comfort, John eased her into his arms.

  Shayla went limp. Standing right outside her bedroom in the arms of a man she desperately wanted to get to know put her in a very dangerous position.

  He gently swayed back and forth, his embrace warm and loving.

  The desire to respond to his affection was unbearable, her heart working in fast frantic beats. God, he smells good. Unable to resist, she relaxed into him further, resting her cheek on the hard planes of his chest.

  “Do you think we can go on a date when we get back?” John asked in a whisper. His mouth brushed over her damp hair. “If you’re not engaged, that is?”

  Her thoughts shattered into a million possibilities and she nodded hotly. “Yes—”

  He lowered his mouth inches from hers. The earthy oak bouquet of the wine still lingered on his breath.

  “My reputable morals have reached their max capacity, so unless you want me to turn on a hot shower, take you to bed, and tuck you in, you should go now. I don’t think I can take much more before I kiss you.”

  “Okay,” Shayla mumbled incoherently, turning blindly toward the door and opening it.

  He patted her on the bottom. “Good night, Shay.”

  “Night,” she managed to utter before he closed the door.

  Slumping against the door and placing her ear to the wood, she listened to his footsteps fade down the hallway. She remained that way for minutes, half-hoping he’d return. The warm imprint of his arms wrapped securely around her filled her heart with need and contentment. Ambling toward the shower, she noticed her phone lying on the bedside table remained dark. No blinking green light. She didn’t bother checking. Mat hadn’t called.

  Dragging herself into the shower, she allowed the cascade of scalding water to wash over her. Shayla couldn’t disregard the reality and overwhelming happiness of being encompassed in the arms of a man she barely knew. He emanated a feeling of joy that was foreign to her.

  Shayla gazed aimlessly into the mirror, running the hair dryer over her wet mane, dwelling on letting John walk away. She felt like she was spinning out of control, yet she�
�d never possessed such a grasp on her awareness of a man.

  She stared down at the engagement ring adorning her right ring finger. Emotions of deep regret and keen desire and horrible guilt churned through her thoughts.

  Shayla needed more than a list of comfortable qualities. She needed unspoken feelings of security and passion. Shayla slipped the ring from her finger and tucked it out of sight in her jewelry box.

  Mentally exhausted, she rubbed lotion over her skin before slipping into her white cotton camisole and lace panties. Pulling back the layers of comfy blankets on her bed, she noticed a shadow from beneath her bedroom door out of the corner of her eye. A nervous shiver skittered down her back. John.

  Chapter Seven

  A fever of hot molten lava raced across her skin, instantly turning her hands damp. Shayla nervously waved her wet hands in the air, watching the shadow pace outside her door in the lit hallway. Flutters danced through her tummy. She tiptoed to the door and silently rested her hand on the handle.

  The pacing came to a halt.

  A smile curled on the corner of her mouth. John could see her shadow beneath to door as well. With only a solid piece of wood between them, her composure fractured, sending tingling sensations to the tender area between her thighs.

  Her heartbeat drummed so erratically in her ears she could barely hear the soft tapping on the door. Shayla eased the door open a few inches, trying to conceal her smile. “Hey,” she said softly. “What’s up?”

  John lifted a brow, amused by the double meaning of her words. His arm flexed a little, pushing the door open a bit further, stretching the thin t-shirt snug over the hard lines of his torso. His gaze wandered keenly from her toes to her face with utter slowness, settling on her eyes. He squinted ambiguously. “I want to ask you something.”

  Engrossed in the fresh scent of his skin and damp hair at his nape, she gripped the handle for support. “Okay,” she panted breathlessly.