Page 8 of Dumping the Puck (Men of Havoc #4)
Seeing Wren in the tiniest towel known to mankind was something I was one hundred percent not prepared for. Watching her strut across the room in said tiny towel like she’s some kind of damn supermodel walking a runway was also not on my bingo card.
My dick instantly springs to life seeing her. Her perfectly round ass cheeks poking out from under the towel, and when she bends over further, giving me a glorious view of her bare pussy. Fuck. The sexiest thing is the pink on her cheeks. She had no intention of giving me that view, but she was too far into her show to stop right then. As long as I’ve known Wren, she’s been shy about her body. Never wanting to show even the tiniest bit of cleavage. But she also never backs down when facing embarrassment. She just owns it, and pretends it was all part of her plan.
Once the bathroom door clicks shut, I need to get out of here. I can’t be just lounging there like some earth-shattering moment didn’t just happen. I jump off the chair and find my way out to the private patio. I think a moment of peace alone is just what we both need. The sexual tension between us is nothing like it’s ever been. I can’t figure out what’s different this time. Other than that damn video where Cameron said she was the love of my life.
She didn’t even want to know if what my brother said was true, which tells me she doesn’t feel the same way. She chose Cameron. I’m just her best friend who’s always been there for her and will always be there for her. I don’t need to mix that up with sex.
No matter how badly I want to.
I lean on the fence overlooking the ocean, taking in a deep breath of the salty air.
Get it together. It’s Wren. The same Wren she’s always been. That show was purely accidental. Keep your hands, and dick, to yourself.
“Hey.” Wren’s soft voice comes from inside.
“Hey. Want to go grab some dinner?” I don’t want to do this awkward small talk, or draw attention to something that she’s bound to be embarrassed about.
“Yeah, that would be great. I’m starving. Did you have a place in mind?” She steps through the french doors and my breath is taken away.
She’s in a light yellow floral sundress. There is nothing that’s sexier than a woman in a sundress.
“Uh, I…” I stammer, staring at her. “I think there’s a few cafes and piazzas around here. We could just go out for a walk and explore.”
“Okay, uh…about earlier...”
“It’s fine.” I kiss her forehead. “Not the first one I’ve seen, probably not the last.” I cringe inwardly as I pass her to go back inside and get my shoes. Why did you say that idiot? Way to make things worse.
She waits by the door for me, looking at the ground and not at me.
I approach her and tip her chin to look at me. “I’m sorry that was a dick thing to say.” I need to break this tension between us. “It’s a pretty great pussy if that makes you feel any better.” I give her a lopsided grin.
“Kayce!” She slaps my shoulder, walking out the door. “We both know I didn’t mean to do that! It’s mortifying enough to know it happened, I don’t need you to comment on it.”
“Do you want to see my dick? Would that make it even? I’m not embarrassed by it, but you show me yours, I show you mine and all…”
The red creeps up her neck, “Ohmygod, no. Please keep your dick inside your pants.”
“If you insist.” She’s giggling at my joke, so mission accomplished. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Pasta, obviously.”
I swing by the desk in the lobby to ask them in very broken Italian where the best food is for a quick bite to eat. He shows me a website on his computer with the map and directs me to a cafe just a couple streets over.
“Okay, ready to go?” I place my hand on the small of her back leading her out of the lobby.
We stroll down the narrow winding streets, taking in our surroundings of the cliffs, the ocean, and old architecture. Our shoulders bumping into each other, and pinky fingers grazing the other’s hand. Something we’ve never had an issue doing was holding hands, ever since the fifth grade when it was weird to hold a girl’s hand. I’ve never shied away from holding Wren’s.
“This is it right here.” I point to the small cafe.
The smells that are coming out the open door are enticing us in. We take a seat by the window.
“I can already tell this place is going to be perfect,” she says, grinning over her menu.
She spends a few minutes looking at her menu, scrunching her nose every so often.
“Do you need help?” I place my own menu down.
“I think I know what two things are… I might just point and let him surprise me.” She sets her menu down as the waiter approaches.
I order the frutti di mare with clams for both of us and tell him the best I can in Italian to ignore Wren’s order because both things she pointed to I know she won’t like. They have veal and she vehemently refuses to eat a baby cow.
She orders her meal that she won’t be getting, and looks at me proud of herself for getting through that with the waiter and successfully completing her first task in Italy. I will not be telling her that I ordered something different for her that I know she will like.
When the food arrives she wiggles a little happy dance in her seat. “Oh! I didn’t know we ordered the same thing!”
I smile. “It sounded good so I ordered it, too.”
“It looks so yummy.” She digs in, putting the fresh pasta in her mouth. A moan escapes her and I want to stand to adjust myself from that one small sound.
Unfortunately for me she doesn’t stop making noises the entire time she eats. By the time our meals are done I’m about to burst through the zipper of my shorts.
I pay the bill, and lace my hand with hers as we leave, walking down the street to explore some more.
“Want to get gelato with me?” she asks sweetly, stopping in front of the gelateria.
“Of course I do.”
We wait in line and both order the limoncello flavor. Once we get our gelato we head down to the beachside to eat by the water.
We sit on one of the rocks, our thighs touching, tempting me to want more of her body touching mine.
“Did you ever think we’d be here?”
“Where, June?”
“Here. In Italy. Together. Me a runaway bride from your brother. The only thing that sounds right about this is you saving me. You’re always there for me.” She looks down, trying to hide her sadness from me.
“And I always will be. No matter what.” I bump her with my shoulder and we finish our gelato in silence.
Ending the night overlooking the ocean with her head resting on my shoulder probably looks like we’re the happy couple on our honeymoon, but it’s something I know I’ll never truly have.