I shrugged. “Ah, I guess Billy Joel. Billy Idol. Genesis, Journey, the Stones—oh. Bruce Springsteen.” I tapped the card and angled it so that the DJ could see it. “Let’s do this one.”
“You got it.”
Moments later, the football player stumbled off the stage as his friends cheered his attempt. The DJ nodded toward me and raised the mic to his mouth.
“Coming up next is a very, very special song from Nash Sampson, who’s been waiting a long time to sing this.” He shaded his eyes with one hand and squinted out into the bar. “If you’re the woman who promised him a reward for this performance, all I can say is, get ready to deliver. Here’s Nash singing . . . the Boss!”
I remembered watching Bruce sing this on the music video channel back in the day. I could still hear Clarence’s sax croon and see Bruce swinging his hips, his white button-up shirt and blue jeans hugging his body as he reached down and pulled a very young, not-yet-famous Courtney Cox from the audience to dance with him.
And I worked hard to channel my inner Boss as I belted out the words about not being able to start a fire without a spark, my hips beginning to swing in spite of my natural tendency toward reticence and invisibility. It helped that everyone in the audience began singing along with me, clapping their hands and yelling out the words.
But I only had eyes for the beautiful woman watching me with heat and promise in her eyes.
Right at the end, at the point where Bruce grabbed for Courtney’s hand back in the 80s, I whistled and thrust out my hand toward Peyton, motioning her forward. She covered her mouth with both hands, laughing, but once she was close enough, she twined her fingers with me and let me drag her up, joining me as we danced out the last beats of the song.
Then I pulled her against me, bending my head down to murmur against her cheek while our classmates went wild.
“Outside. Now. Just us.”
The air outsidefelt cool after the stifling atmosphere inside the Tide. A luminous full moon shone a path across the placid ocean, and on the sand, the only sound was the gentle, rhythmic swoosh of the waves . . . and our own beating hearts.
“That was—Nash, that was incredible. You’re a really good singer.” Peyton blinked up at me. “You’ve been hiding your light under a bushel. Why didn’t you sing back in school?”
I huffed out a quick laugh. “I guess no one ever gave me the motivation.”
“Oh.” She snuggled closer to me and reached up to link her hands behind my neck. “I guess I do owe you something, don’t I? Do you want to claim your reward?”
I bent my head over hers, every inch of my body on fire. “I want to claim . . . you.”
Unable to wait another single heartbeat, I cover Peyton’s mouth with mine, the first touch sending an undeniable spark through me, lighting me up all over.
Groaning, I slipped my arms around her waist and tugged her closer to me, splaying my hands wide on her lower back so that my fingers brushed the top of her luscious ass.
Peyton made a small noise, opening her lips under mine and meeting the thrusts of my tongue with forays of her own. Her fingers tangled in the ends of my hair, and she pressed against me, the softness of her breasts crushed into my chest.
If we had been truly alone, back in her hotel room or mine, this kiss might have been the prelude to a night that neither of us would ever forget. But we were here on the beach, with the Rip Tide filled with our classmates behind us, and so I knew our kiss could only go so far.
But I still planned to enjoy the hell out of what we were doing right now.
I wasn’t sure how long we stayed there, our bare feet in the cool sand and our arms twined around each other, our mouths exploring and learning, teasing and tantalizing. Peyton brushed her palm over the side of my face and arched her head back to give me access to the slim white column of her neck, and I let my hands venture down to cup her backside, pulling her center against me so that there could be no doubt in her mind about how much I wanted her.
A yell down the beach tore us from the world we’d created with just the two of us. Still, even as I eased back, I didn’t let her go, and I noticed that Peyton’s fingers still gripped my back.
“That was . . .” She dropped her forehead to my shoulder. “Better than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life.”
“I was going to say it was long overdue, but I guess we can go with what you said.” I rubbed gentle circles on her back. “I guess we should probably start to head back to the hotel. It’s probably getting late.”
“Not yet.” Peyton raised her face to look up at me, her lips puffy from my kisses. “We don’t have to go back yet. Just . . . one more kiss.”
I nuzzled her jaw. “How could I ever say no to that?”
And I didn’t.
Chapter Eight
Peyton
“Did you go to our prom?”
