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“Race you to the shower?” I pull my hand back and scrub it against my mouth, grinning up at him.
August only looks at me skeptically.
His eyes skip down to my legs, still mummified in the waterlogged dress.
He doesn’t need to say a word when his eyes return to my face.
I’m still gonna kick him just as soon as I’m untangled.
“Fine.” I pout. “Carry me to the shower. I only wore this stupid dress for you, anyway.”
“Did you, now?” he whispers with that subtle humor I’m starting to catch on to more and more.
“Well, I wanted you to think I was pretty.” I huff. Hopefully the cold keeps me from blushing. “Now carry me inside. I want naked skin and hot water. I won’t be nearly as pretty if I lose my feet to frostbite.”
“Yes, we can’t endanger such pretty feet.” August pulls away—but only to rise and dust himself off, sending sand showering everywhere. He steps away and fetches his jacket and our shoes, then comes back and slips his arms under me. I squeak as he lifts me up, but it turns into a growl as he strains. “Did you gain weight?”
“I’ll kill you,” I bite off. “In your sleep. Kill you dead.”
He knows it’s my waterlogged dress.
Jerkwad.
And said jerkwad nearly kills me with a quick boyish grin, there and gone again, fast as lightning and striking harder.
I didn’t think he knew how to smile like that.
He’s surprising me every day.
And I’m falling harder every minute.
After last time, I wanted to get over this so bad. Just because a guy’s dick wants you doesn’t mean he does. But every “fake” kiss, every idle touch that came so easy has left some tiny part of me holding on.
That tiny part is never going to be able to let go now.
Not when my thighs still ache and I’m sore and full inside. Every part of me is still tender from his touch.
I’m content to lean against him and let my eyes close as he carries me across the sand to the wooden walkway leading across the water to his house. Now that I’m not burning up inside with desire, the cool breeze and icy water are really sinking in, and I huddle closer to August’s warmth, shivering as my skin pricks with goose bumps.
“Almost there,” he whispers gently. “We’ll get you warm.”
It’s already working.
The promise in his voice ignites new heat in my core.
I press my lips to his neck and hold on tight as he carries me inside to the bathroom.
This time, it’s slow as we strip each other out of our soggy cloths. I suddenly want to cover myself, when I’ve never been truly, visibly naked with him before. Never seen his body completely when he’s tall and hard and subtly scarred with old marks that make me want to know every story, every old hurt, every place I can kiss to learn the hard, tapered power of his body.
His skin feels as cold as mine as our arms slip around each other and lips find lips.
Every kiss leads us back to warmth.
With lips, with touch, with the heat of the shower spray. With the way we slide together, the way we fit so perfectly.
The soft whispers, the lazy sighs, the groans.
The deep, languid thrusts that could stretch on until morning.
