The Beach Club

19. Alvaro

    

      It's sad, yet not entirely unexpected, how embarrassed Poppy feels as she can barely get a hold on her own tears. I hadn't realised how much she had locked up her past, so much so that it all came out like an unforgiving verbal waterfall.

     And now I find her sobbing into my shirt. A Spanish guy she barely knows. Yet, shamefully, I can't seem to stop myself from finding comfort as she uses me for emotional support. In fact, I've got her right where I need her to be.

      "I'm sorry," she says, pulling back and swiping her palms under her eyes. "It's just hard to speak about. Sometimes I feel like I'm describing some kind of horror novel, not my own actual life."

     "It's okay," I soothe, my hand curved around her cheek. "You're not going back to him though, right?"

     "My Dad? No. I'm starting university early next month. I only need to tolerate him for two more weeks once I return home. Then I'll be on the first flight to Scotland."

"Scotland, huh?"

She nods weakly, but a barely-there smile creeps onto her face at the assuming thought of soon escaping everything about her childhood. "Yeah. I'm going to study Psychology. I've not got it all planned out yet, but I like the idea of one day working in the children's mental health sector."

     It makes sense; Poppy wants to give what she never received. What she so desperately needed when she was only a child, suffering things no child should ever suffer at the hands of her own father and brother. Never knowing her own mother. Feeling isolated from a world everyone else gets to live happily in. I almost pity her, in fact, I do pity her. But what I pity the most is the fact that she thinks it will all get better. Though, she's right about one thing; she'll never see that dickhead deadbeat dad of hers again.

     The waves grow softer beneath us, the area around us fizzling into quietness. I like this part of the island; it'a almost too far away from the party scene that you can actually basque in the peaceful ambience.

     I turn Poppy towards me, using the pads of my thumbs to soak up the remnants of her hot tears. Her brown eyes glisten under the moonlight, her warm, rounded smile making my veins pool with fire. My hands remain against her cheeks, and I stare intently into her soul. This poor, hurt girl that just wants to be loved but doesn't know how to be loved. She's lucky though, because whilst I might not know how to love, I'm sure as hell a pro at pretending to know. I will go to any lengths to get what I want. And just as I reassure myself that I'm on the right track, I press my lips to Poppy's, my cells crashing in unexpected chaos, my dick twitching inside of my jeans, desperate to be inside of this girl.

But he won't be.

Fuck.

Ignoring my sexual urges, my tongue greedily invades Poppy's mouth, tasting the remnants of the sharp wine we shared at dinner. My mouth claims hers and I enjoy it when her body stiffens in my hold. She's nervous, yet it doesn't detract from how well she manoeuvres her tongue against mine. I pull her body closer. I move one arm so that it captures the entirety of her small waist, wickedly increasing the pressure of my lips against hers. She tastes sweet and luxurious. I trail my fingers through her hair and relish the scent of coconut and vanilla as it wafts into my nostrils. Her heartbeat is thumping and I smile, loving that this is how I make her feel. Against my better judgement, I trail my fingers down her bare neckline until they find the lining of her dress—right where her small breasts protrude from. I go to curl my fingers inside, allowing myself this small pleasure, until her own hand finds mine and stops me in my tracks.

     I pull back cautiously. "I'm sorry. Was that too much?" Fuck. I crossed a line.

     Poppy shakes her head, her tongue painting her lower lip as the apples of her cheeks fill with red. "No. It's okay. I'm just—I guess—I just want to take things slow."

     I nod with understanding, but not truly understanding. How slow can she want things to go? She has only four days left on this island—as far as she is concerned, anyway. Not that she knows it, but the fact that I can't fuck her means that the stuff that I can do can only happen in these next four days. Unless of course, she doesn't want anything more than a kiss, which is quite frankly something I'm not accustomed to.

"I'll take it as slow as you want," I whisper, hoping they're the words she wants to hear. "You are not like your family. Remember that." I discreetly shuffle, telling my dick to stand down. There's no shortage of girls on this island who want a quick fuck; I'll sort my dick out later.

Poppy smiles, and I'm glad she can't read my thoughts. She inhales several deep breaths that tell me she's still trying to ground herself after that moment we just shared. I start to get the feeling that, as well as being a virgin, she hasn't kissed many guys either. It would make sense—having daddy issues and all—but the fact that she's so goddamn beautiful also makes me question my own thoughts.

      Guys must be drawling over her.

"Anyway." Poppy smooths down the skirt of her dress, her long, silky brunette hair blowing against the evening breeze. "I'd better get back to the hotel. I'm sure Zara will be on her way back too. Or maybe she's already back." Her words start to trip over one another, a sign that she's caught between wanting to stay with me but also wanting to make the sensible decision. She has no right to trust me. Hell, I wouldn't trust me. But I can tell by how she keeps biting into her lip that she's keeping her emotions contained. Keeping at bay the secret wild side she has inside of her.

     Noted. I've cracked into the icy exterior. The hard part is over with. I just have to make sure I see her again; that she wants to see me again.

     "I'll walk you home," I say softly. I stand and jump from the rock, holding my hand out so that Poppy lands safely back on the soft sands. We walk back in mostly silence, but there's no awkwardness. When we reach her hotel, I consider extending my gesture right to the door of her room.

     "Thank you for tonight," Poppy says as she turns to me, putting a firm halt to my plans. "It really was amazing."

     We're standing towards each other now. I grab both her hands in mine, pulling her forward so that her chest is flush against mine. "I loved every minute."

      My words hang in the space between us. Everyone around us disappears into the empty void our proximity creates. Poppy eyes don't leave mine. She barely even blinks. Her breathing grows short and raspy and I can feel all too well how fast her heart is beating against my chest.

I give her what she wants.

      I kiss her.

Sweet and passionate. Soft but possessive. I taste what's mine and I take what's mine. When she eventually draws back, she breaks free of my grasp and beelines to the hotel. And all I can do is stand and watch as my own, precious, rare and beautiful possession gets lost beyond the automatic doors of the slightly-above-average hotel.