Sara Stone - Full Exposure

“I need to pack.” Nate jumped up from the table, disappearing into the front room to pick out which toy trains would make the trip to Grandma’s house.

“It’s nice of your mom and Henry to take him,” Georgia said, referencing his mother’s latest boyfriend. Although Henry had been in the picture for the past few years, Eric barely knew the guy. He kept waiting for his mother to move on. She always did.

“I guess I have the night off,” she added, collecting Nate’s plate from the table.

“You’re never required to work weekends. Not unless something comes up.” When that happened, he always paid overtime. He assumed Georgia joined them for weekend breakfast because she enjoyed their company, not obligation. But the lines between work and play, boss and friend, were blurring—had been since the day she moved in.

Georgia laughed, closing the dishwasher. “Eric, something always comes up. Or at least it has since I’ve been living here.”

“I’ve been busy.” He’d spent the past five years buried in work, knowing every hour logged brought him closer to success. “But if you ever need a night off, tell me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. You know, in case someone invites me on a hiking trip.”

His grip tightened on his fork. Hell, no.

“I have a better idea.” He wasn’t about to let her walk into the arms of a firefighter. He shouldn’t care one way or the other, but ever since she’d slipped into his bedroom, he couldn’t escape the feeling in his gut that she was his. If he was being honest, it had started years before she dropped her towel and climbed onto his bed.

“My mom’s place is halfway to the coast,” he continued. “We could get out of town. Grab a bowl of chowder at the Clam Shack. Maybe stay at my condo on the beach.”

She raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Dinner at my favorite restaurant on the planet and a sleepover?”

He nodded.

Georgia ran her tongue over her lips as her arms lifted her breasts higher. Her eyes sparkled as if she were mentally mapping out her plans for their night away.

“There are two bedrooms,” he said.

“I’m in. But I don’t think we’ll need both beds. Unless . . .” She shrugged. “You never know what might happen.”

“Georgia—”

“I’ll go find Nate and help him pack.”

Her face lit with excitement and daring as she danced out of the kitchen to find Nate. Eric closed his eyes, grinding his teeth. He had a bad feeling that one night with Georgia would never be enough.

“TRUTH OR DARE.” Georgia sprinkled crackers into her piping-hot bowl of chowder. Sitting across from her in a pale blue leather booth that looked like something from 1960—it probably was, given how long the Clam Shack had been around—Eric laughed.

“What are we, sixteen?” he said. “I haven’t played that game in years.”

“Me neither. But if I recall correctly, you and my brother once drove out here on a dare. Without permission.”

He nodded. “I was grounded for weeks. Same with Liam.”

“Pretty wild for a pair of choirboys,” she teased.

“We were never choirboys, Georgia. We all have our secrets.” He set his spoon down and reached for a pack of crackers. “Even your brother.”

“Liam can keep his,” she said firmly. “Right now, I think it’s time for us to get a little reckless, have some fun.”

The Eric she’d grown up with followed a strong moral code, always keeping him on the straight and narrow. But he’d still had fun. Over the years, he’d changed. She suspected running a multimillion-dollar business had something to do with it. So did losing his sister and becoming a guardian/father to a little boy overnight. Commitment and obligation framed his life. But tonight, she wanted him to break free from the stiff walls he’d built around his day-to-day existence.

Georgia swallowed a spoonful of chowder, savoring the rich and creamy taste. She’d come here countless times growing up, with her family and with Eric and Liam. This food tasted like her best memories of home. The ones that had kept her going while deployed, and now that she was back, offered a sense of safety. She’d been happy here, and nothing had tainted that since she’d returned. On the coast, she could be strong, courageous, and maybe a little wild.

“Truth or dare,” she repeated.

He shook his head. “You’re relentless.”

“I’ve learned to never give up.” She dropped a few more crackers into her bowl.

He took a long drink from his beer. “Truth.”

She held her spoon to her lips, searching for a question. Her emotions might be off the table. But his were fair game. “What are you afraid of?”

Eric looked out the window at the waves crashing against the shore. “A lot of things, Georgia.”

“When it comes to us,” she clarified.

“That’s a long list,” he said slowly.

“Start at the top.”

“Hurting Nate.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why?”

“I sat by his side at the hospital. After the accident. I wanted to be there when he woke up. I told him what had happened. About his parents. He didn’t understand. How could he?” Eric shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment, as if the memory was too much. She knew that feeling and wanted to offer comfort, but knew it wouldn’t help.

“I told him it was just us now,” he continued. “I promised we’d be a family.”

“I’m not trying to change that. To take away what you have with Nate. And I’d never walk away from him.”

Finally, Eric looked at her. “I know, Georgia. But after my parents divorced, I hated riding their relationship roller coaster. They passed my sister and me back and forth. We were always in the way of their latest relationship. And every time we met one of my dad’s girlfriends and started to like her, she left or my dad ditched her. My mom wasn’t much better. She traded boyfriends the way most women switch shoes. Nate has already lost his parents. As long as he is with me, I don’t want him wondering if everyone in his life might vanish.”

“You’re worried I’m too unstable to maintain a place in Nate’s life,” she said quietly.

“Georgia, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. I get it,” she said softly. “You forget that I saw the way your parents paraded their not so significant others in and out of your life. I know you, Eric. We’re friends. That will never change. But other things might. If you’re willing to make the leap,” she said. “And then, after a while, we might be just friends again.”

“You make it sound so damn simple,” he said, shaking his head.

“Maybe that’s what I need. Simple.” She sipped another spoonful of soup. “Now it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“To ask the question,” she said, hoping to move the evening back into the strictly fun column. “Truth or dare.”

He laughed, the sound filling their near-empty corner of the restaurant, and Georgia felt some of the tension wash away.

“I feel like a teenager, playing this game.”

“Becoming a businessman and father doesn’t mean you aren’t entitled to a little fun.”

“OK, I’ll play.” Eric drained his beer and set his glass on the table. “Truth or dare.”

Georgia swallowed the last of her chowder, pretending to consider the question when in truth she already knew her answer. Questions might leave her vulnerable. Tonight was about fun. Responsibility and loss had chipped away the simple pleasures in their lives like a sculptor wielding a chisel. She needed a reminder that life wasn’t about the missing pieces. It could still be lived, enjoyed, and sometimes even cherished—especially here in this place that wasn’t burdened with her fears and nightmares.

“Dare.”

“We’re in a restaurant,” he said, pouring the last of the crackers into his bowl.

Georgia nodded. “Be creative.”

ERIC HEARD THOSE words and knew he should walk away. But desire mixed with that one word. Dare. His imagination ran in ten different directions. The things he wanted to do to her, the places he wanted to see his hands move over her body, and hers over his, raced through his mind. It was like watching a highlight reel of his sexual fantasies.

But this wasn’t about him.

Eric leaned across the table, keeping his voice low even though he’d demanded a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant, just in case having others around them set off warning bells in her head. “I dare you to tell me your fantasies.”

Georgia’s eyes widened. “A dare is supposed to be an action.”

He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Feel free to demonstrate.”

She raised an eyebrow, and he wondered if she planned to take him up on his offer. If her fantasies were anything like his, a little show-and-tell would draw unwanted attention. And it might get them arrested.

She cocked her head as if debating which path to choose. Part of him screamed demonstrate. He could afford the bail.

“Are you done with your chowder?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Get the check,” she said. “I’ll tell you while we walk along the beach. Your condo isn’t far from here, right?”

“Five minutes on foot.” Eric withdrew his wallet and dropped a pile of bills on the table, more than enough to cover the meal and tip. “Let’s go.”

Watching her slide from the booth and head for the exit, knowing where this was headed when they reached the shore, the last shreds of his self-restraint snapped. It was as if he was waiting for her towel to drop again, unwilling to look away.

Eric followed her out the door and down the old wooden steps to the beach. Silently, they walked side by side. He couldn’t touch her. Not yet. This wasn’t a sweet stroll by the shore, hand in hand. One touch would set him on fire. He had a feeling it would do the same for her.

The sun was inching lower and lower in the sky, but it was still too bright. And even when it fell below the horizon, the lights from the condo buildings and hotels lining the shore would cast a soft glow over the beach, bright enough to illuminate two people stripping down in the sand.

Twenty paces from the Clam Shack, alone on the shore except for a man tossing a tennis ball for his dog, Eric leaned over, careful not to touch his lips to her ear. “Start talking, Georgia.”

“My fantasies?”

He nodded. “Tell me. I dare you.”

She shoved her hands in the front pockets of her jeans, and her eyes focused on the sand in front of her, as if she were doing her best not to step on shells or debris. In the dimming light, he couldn’t read her expression.

“You’re my fantasy,” she said.

Eric stopped short, her words hitting him in the gut. He’d been waiting for her to describe something kinky and wild. “Georgia—”

“I don’t mean wedding bells.” She paused beside him and looked up, meeting his gaze.

“When I lie in the dark at night, I dream about watching you strip out of one of your suits,” she continued, her voice barely audible over the rush of the waves.

Eric stepped closer, unwilling to miss a single word. But he kept his hands fisted at his sides.

“I picture you moving toward me as you undo each button, the way your muscles shift when you pull your undershirt over your head. Once you’re naked, I imagine your hands reaching for me, slowly peeling off my clothes,” she said, her voice low and husky. With each word, the sun dipped lower, further cocooning them in darkness. “Pulling away the layers quickly. No hesitation. And then, you’d touch me.”

“Where?” he demanded. “Show me.”

There was just enough light to see her fingers trace a slow path from her collarbone, over the edge of her shirt to between her breasts.

“Here.” Her hand moved to her right breast, his eyes tracking her movements. Through the thin fabric of her shirt, she palmed the flesh he was dying to touch, lifting it as if she were imagining him testing the weight and fullness.

“Would I stop there?” His words were a near whisper.

“No.”

He glanced up at her face, barely visible now in the dim light. “Tell me, Georgia.”

“In my fantasies, you’re very talented with your mouth. I’ve spent years wondering what if would feel like to have your tongue trailing down over my stomach, to have you on your knees, moving lower and lower.”

The crash of a wave punctuated her sentence. Eric closed his eyes, tempted to rush into the water and escape the mental picture of Georgia’s legs spread wide and his mouth teasing the soft folds that he’d watched her explore with her own hands.