Then, with the warm summer sun beating down on their naked bodies, they’d fucked with unrepentant hunger right there on the hard, rocky trail, the thin, unsubstantial blanket providing precious little cushioning. Back at the cabin, he’d winced when the spray of the hot shower had pounded down on a dozen or more bruises and scrapes, but the discomfort had been quickly forgotten when Lauren had joined him in the spacious stall. Her small, soapy hands had stroked his cock persuasively until he’d groaned in arousal and spun her around, shoving her up against the smooth granite shower wall before thrusting inside of her.
And he’d somehow let her persuade him into letting her drive the motorcycle. Surprisingly, perhaps because it was unfamiliar to her, Lauren had driven the bike with considerably more care than she had the truck, and he’d been slightly less terrified as he’d ridden just behind her.
He’d discovered that she went through her martial arts exercises religiously each day, and after a couple of days watching her out on the deck as she smoothly executed a complex series of punches, kicks, spins, leaps, and arms balances, Ben had experienced a renewed interest in the practice. Lauren had been delighted to have a sparring partner, and he’d been pleasantly surprised at how quickly his training had come back.
There had been quieter times, too, like the twice daily walks with her parents’ dogs, the three Australian Shepherds all seeming to have boundless energy. Ben’s favorites were the sunset strolls along the beach, accessed by a secret, mostly hidden set of wooden steps that had been built into the hillside just beneath the cabin. He and Lauren would hold hands or link arms, taking turns throwing sticks for the dogs. Even Lauren would be uncharacteristically quiet during these times, saying little, but words never seemed to be necessary.
And despite her earlier protests that she wasn’t much of an artist, he discovered that she hadn’t been entirely truthful on that score. More than once he’d come upon her out on the deck, or perched along the bluff top with a large sketchpad and charcoal pencil in hand. With a renowned artist for a mother, and a famed architect for a father, Ben wasn’t the least surprised to note that Lauren had real talent of her own. She sketched whatever took her fancy – a tree, one of the dogs, a seagull, him. She’d torn the page from the sketchpad and handed it to him rather impulsively, mumbling “Here. It’s not the greatest, and you can just trash it if you want to. No big deal.”
But he knew that he’d keep the remarkably good likeness of himself forever, would always cherish it. Like the woman herself, Lauren’s sketches were on the wild, unconventional side, the edges a little rough, but the overall result both unique and breathtaking.
He’d never come close to being in love before, had never even had an actual relationship with a woman – at least not one that had progressed past the point of fucking like rabbits for a day or two before moving on. And, frankly, he’d yet to meet a woman who’d made him think about things like commitment or putting down roots or falling in love. But even though such ideas were completely foreign to him, Ben realized pretty quickly that he’d fallen in love with Lauren – deeply so. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – tell her how he felt, however. Oh, not because he feared she didn’t return his feelings, despite the fact that she’d also remained silent on the matter. Lauren would always be the sort of person who wore her heart on her sleeve, who would never be able to keep her emotions bottled up inside, or hold anything back. And even though she had yet to utter the words – oddly, perhaps, because she was still old-fashioned enough to want him to say them first – Ben knew she was as crazy about him as he was about her.
No, the reason he didn’t dare to discuss his feelings – or the future – with her was because he knew for her own good that he couldn’t figure into her plans. If they were to try and continue seeing each other after it was time for him to move on, it would only destroy the brilliant future Lauren had in store for her, and because of that so, too, would their love eventually be damaged beyond repair.
It had been the most difficult – and, he hoped, unselfish – decision he’d ever had to make in his life thus far. And, up until yesterday, Ben had still been trying desperately to find a way – any way – for he and Lauren to remain together in some way or another. Sure, he had to finish up this article, but maybe after that he could find a way to move to Los Angeles. He knew Lauren rented a house with several other students, and given that he had precious few belongings of his own, he’d wondered if she would be agreeable to sharing her room with him. He’d find some sort of job – it didn’t really matter what – just until she graduated next year. And after that – well, after that the world could be their oyster.
Lauren had listened with something akin to wonder as he’d told her about the places he had traveled to thus far, then quizzed him in great detail about his visits to Australia, Brazil, Morocco, and even Cuba. She’d told him then of the top five places on her bucket list to see one day – Patagonia, India, Iceland, Bora Bora, and the Swiss Alps. Ben had let his imagination – and his emotions – run a little wild as he pictured the two of them traveling around the world together. Lauren would take the photos while he wrote the accompanying articles, and they would sell their stories to travel magazines, websites, blogs, and maybe even publish their own travel guides. It would be amazing, a never-ending adventure, and life would be good, so much more than he’d ever hoped to have, so long as his beloved Lauren was always by his side.
He’d come close to broaching the subject with her, to gauge her reaction to his proposal. He had, in fact, finally decided to discuss it all with her over dinner last night, had mentally rehearsed what he would say. But all of that had changed after he’d accompanied her into Carmel to check on her parents’ house and her mother’s art gallery.
His jaw had dropped open in awe at the first sight of the McKinnon “beach house” as Lauren had so casually referred to it. The prime oceanfront location alone had to be worth millions, while the spacious, custom built house with its vast wraparound decks would likely double the value of the property.
While Lauren had bustled about the house – opening up windows, watering plants, collecting the mail, gathering more dog food – Ben had made a quick but thorough inspection of the place, his heart sinking a little deeper as he walked past each room. Once again, there was a feeling of understated luxury, a lived-in, comfortable, bohemian décor, but he knew that every piece of furniture, each area rug, even the coffee mugs and hand towels, were all of the very best quality. There was simply no escaping the fact that Lauren was used to a particular standard of living, had grown up in comfort and with a certain amount of privilege, and Ben had shuddered to imagine her reaction if she ever accompanied him on one of his admittedly low budget journeys.
He always flew coach, often having to make multiple connections or endure long layovers in order to get the cheapest fare. Once at his destination, he typically relied on the local transportation to get around, quite often noisy, dusty trains or hot, crowded buses. His accommodations were the most inexpensive he could find, and often barely habitable. And while he knew Lauren had a sense of adventure and not one ounce of pretension in her body, Ben still couldn’t picture her being happy or content to live the life of an impoverished nomad for very long.
Things had only gotten worse when they’d walked inside the Spindrift Gallery in quaint, downtown Carmel. While Lauren carried on a spirited conversation – in rapid, fluent French – with the thin, elegantly attired older woman who was the gallery manager – Ben glanced around at the various paintings, sculptures, and framed photographs that were for sale. He was extremely self-conscious of the fact that his worn jeans, faded T-shirt, and biker boots stood out like a sore thumb in these surroundings and among all of the well-dressed patrons.