Too Broken(24)

As soon as my thoughts turn to him naked, Ian can tell and he never  passes up an opportunity to call me on it. "Let me guess, you are  thinking about me in a swimsuit?" he asks and I stare at him in horror.  "Please tell me that I'm not wearing a Speedo," he says with a laugh.

Since I'm busted, I might as well just go with it, right? "Oh, no, we're skinny dipping in my head, thank you very much."

He laughs, shaking his head, and says, "Hmmmm, not a bad mental image  after all." Giving me a wink and grabbing my hand, he leads me toward  the shore, "Wanna get your feet wet?"

"Definitely!"

We approach the surf line and sit down to take off our shoes and socks.  Rolling up our jeans to our knees, we grab our beers and head for the  water.

"Holy crap, that's cold!" I exclaim when the arctic water hits my feet. I turn and run back up the beach.

"Wimp!" Ian yells, shaking his head disappointedly at me. Just then  another wave comes in, submerging him up to his calves and his entire  body goes stiff.

I laugh, intent on mocking him, but he turns and starts rushing towards  me. I'm not entirely sure what his intention is, but I'm pretty sure I  won't like it, so I scream and turn tail and run. Of course he's faster  than I am, and he catches me in about ten strides. He grabs me roughly  about the waist, forcing both of us to drop our beers in the process,  and spins me around so I'm facing him. He lifts me up, throwing me on  his shoulder and begins marching me back toward the surf.

"Oh, no, no you don't!" I yell as I struggle. I know I can't get free,  he's too strong for that, but I can manage to wriggle around a bit. I  decide my best bet is to make sure that if I go in, he goes in too, and  count on his desire to spend the evening dry to save me. I push back on  his shoulder under my belly and I wrap my legs around his chest and  slide down to his waist. I tightly grip with my inner thighs and wrap my  arms around his neck, forcing my torso into his.

Once in position our eyes meet and all laughter leaves us. He stops  walking abruptly and we stare at each other. His hands are around my  lower back and he slowly moves them down until they are cupping my ass.  My hips give an involuntary thrust against his abdomen and my nipples  harden, pressing into his chest. His breath catches on an open mouth  inhalation and his eyes drop down to my lips. That's all the invitation I  need.

Pushing my hands up into his hair, I drop my mouth onto his in a hard  kiss. Instantly the heat between us explodes. There is no finesse, no  seduction. Hunger rules this kiss and our bodies yield to the intensity.  I keep my left hand in his hair but move my right arm over the back of  his shoulders so I can get some leverage. I begin rubbing against his  washboard abs and he lets out a low groan as he pulls me tighter against  him, his hands still on my ass. Our tongues plunge deeply, colliding  and pushing and creating friction and tension when they meet. Without  exception, it is the hottest kiss of my entire life.

I'm not sure how long it lasted, but finally a need to breathe forces us  apart. We are both panting and feeling a little off kilter. Ian takes a  few steps up onto dry sand and sinks to his knees. We disentangle,  ending up sitting side by side, hips and shoulders pressed together, and  looking at the sunset.

It is a weird moment. I want to smile at him, snuggle into his arms, and  enjoy the beauty of the beach and the setting sun. Yet I can tell he  has already pulled away and that this would be unwelcomed. We sit in  silence, and I wonder what is going on in his head. When I can stand it  no longer, I finally speak.

"You aren't interested in dating, are you?"

He looks at me with that same haunted sadness I've seen too many times now. "No," he says.

"Wow, that stings," I say with a curt nod, turning my eyes back to the  sunset. I know I shouldn't take it personally, I'm pretty sure he  doesn't want to date anyone - he certainly has never shown any interest  in a woman in the month I've known him. But it still hurts.

"Why?" I ask.                       
       
           



       

He shakes his head but doesn't answer. He trains his gaze on the horizon.

I stare out at the ocean and contemplate my options. I have very strong  feelings for this man; they go deeper than lust. I don't think I can  call them love yet, but he's strong and smart and noble and I'm drawn to  him in a way I've never been before. I can try and fight for him, but  that's not something I'm particularly practiced at. I'm horribly  insecure, and whether that stems from daddy abandonment issues or being  overweight, it really doesn't matter. I find it odd when anyone chooses  to love me, so fighting to "win" his affection seems like an impossible  task. Yet letting go, just giving up, doesn't really seem like a good  option either. I care too deeply to simply walk away, and I don't think  I'm deluding myself when I think he cares about me too. He has feelings  for me, but he doesn't want to act upon them. Why? Ugh, he is so fucking  frustrating.

We sit in silence until suddenly a guitar chord rips through the air and drums take up a steady beat.

"The show's starting," Ian says, popping up and offering down his hand.

I don't take it and instead get up of my own volition, wiping the sand  off my ass and the back of my legs, rolling my jeans back down and  putting my shoes on. He does the same. I don't look at him as we walk to  the stage area. We stop a few feet away from the crowd, out of the  circle of light cast by the bonfires.

"I'll go get us a couple more beers," Ian says. "You'll be okay here?"

I give him a quick look and nod. I'm not trying to be pestilential, I just have nothing to say to him at the moment.

He takes off just as Bernie hits the stage.

"Whaaaaat's up, mother fuckers?" he yells and the crowd goes wild,  shouting and jumping and transforming into a unified, pulsing mass. The  band launches into a raucous song filled with fast metal guitar licks  and screeching vocals. What distinguishes this from other metal bands  I've heard before is the fiddle. Through it all, the fiddle is dueling  with the guitar for dominance. It is an odd sound, and suddenly I'm  reminded of the day I walked in on Ian dancing in the kitchen. He must  have been listening to the Fighting Irish.

Before the first song is over Ian has returned with more beer and I  pound mine. I hate beer, I hate the tension between us, so what the  hell, I'm going to get drunk.

A couple songs, and another beer, later, the world has turned into a  hazy, glowing place. Ian and I have backed farther away from the crowd  who began moshing on the second song. He's standing behind me and while  we aren't touching, I can feel his heat. It got chilly when the sun went  down and I'm a little cold. My nipples are hard yet again, and for once  it isn't because of Ian. Or, well, not only because of Ian.

A small shudder shakes my shoulders and he steps up behind me. "Cold?"  he asks, putting his arms around my waist and pulling me into his chest.  I stiffen and have no idea how to react. My mind tells me to say, Fuck  you, and push away from him while my body is content to feel his heat  seeping into my back and have his big broad chest to rest my head upon.  The feel of him behind me is too delicious to resist, so I pull a page  from his playbook and say nothing.

The music level drops suddenly and Bernie's voice carries out across the  group in a clear, sweet, note. The instrumentals come back in softly,  delicately. It seems the Fighting Irish have a ballad, who would have  thought it?

Behind me Ian begins to sway. This is so fucked up! An hour ago he  wanted nothing to do with me, now he's holding me and swaying to a  shockingly sweet love song sung by a giant leprechaun. I'm angry and  confused. But even more than that, I'm horny and drunk. I want Ian so  badly that I'll take whatever he wants to give me tonight. I want his  arms around me, I want to dance with him to this song. I want him.

Feeling my body relax against his, Ian grows a little bolder. Taking a  hand from my hip, he brushes the hair from the side of my neck and  replaces it with his lips. I take a quick breath and sensation  intensifies between my thighs. Lightly, gently, he nibbles my neck,  taking a small bite, pulling the skin up and then releasing it and  covering it quickly with little licks and soft presses of his lips. He  starts right under my jaw line and by the time he reaches my shoulder,  I'm groaning and pushing my hips back into his rock hard erection, in  time with the pulsing in my core.

He growls, a sound which causes a Pavlovian response in me, and I can  feel a release of moisture in my thong. He moves his hands from my hips  and sends one up to clutch my breast and the other to rub my crotch  outside of my jeans. I know we are in public, but I am so beyond caring.  Plus, we are cloaked in darkness; it is a moonless night and the light  from the bonfires doesn't touch us.