“I get it, shorty.” When my laughs subside, I take a sip of the fizzy drink. “Hmm. Not bad.”
Summer smiles up at me, and I realize I’ll do almost anything to see that happen. She pays for two bottles of the kombucha, handing me one as we walk on. At another stall, we sample fresh bread and buy some sandwiches for a late lunch, sitting on a bench to eat. For a while, we’re quiet, enjoying our food and people watching.
“This is nice,” Summer says quietly. I wrap my arm around her and allow myself to trail my fingers up and down her bare arm. Maybe it’s because we aren’t in Dogwood Cove where anyone could see us, but it feels easy and right to be affectionate with her. She leans into my touch, as if she wants it just as much as I do.
“It is.”
No, it’s more than nice. It’s fucking perfect. I want more days like this, simply the two of us exploring and spending time together.
“Summer,”
“Ethan,”
We both laugh lightly as we turn to face each other on the bench. God, she’s so beautiful. Her hair is loose, cascading over her shoulders. Her face is bare of makeup, but she’s still the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. And I want her.
“You go first,” I say, taking her hands in mine.
Summer’s cheeks flush a light pink, and her gaze drops down to her lap and our entwined hands.
“This is weirdly difficult,” she starts. My heart clenches involuntarily, and Summer glances up at me quickly and continues. “Not in a bad way. In a ‘holy crap I can’t believe it’ way.”
“Summer, I’m getting confused,” I say gently. But inside my heart is beating wildly as I let myself start to hope that she’s going to say she wants the same thing I do.
“Sorry. It’s just, you’re, well, you’re you. Ethan Monroe, Mila’s big brother. And now you’re also Ethan Monroe, man I’m ridiculously attracted to. And we’re touching, and hugging, and it doesn’t feel like we’re just friends. It’s weird, is all, and I don’t know what to do about it,” she finishes, biting her lip and looking at me.
I act on instinct, leaning in and kissing her lightly. Then her mouth opens with a tiny gasp, and I let go of her hands to cup her face, pulling her in closer. Our lips fuse together, fitting like they were designed for this. I force my hands to stay where they are, instead of traveling her body like I want them to. That will have to wait until we’re alone.
“Your mouth feels like heaven,” I murmur against her lips, and the corners of hers tip up in response. Her fingers come up to tangle in the hair at the back of my neck, and the way she’s holding me to her is possessive and perfect. She wants this just as much as I do. She pulls my face back to hers and I lose track of time and all awareness of anything around us as I kiss her. She tastes sweet and feels hot, like she’s ignited an inferno inside of me with just one kiss. She moves her mouth under mine, and I run my tongue along the seam of her lips until she opens to me and our tongues dance together.
Eventually, reluctantly, we part, but I lean my forehead on hers, not ready to fully lose this connection.
“Does that tell you what to do about it?” I whisper.
Summer nods, her eyes closed while mine roam her face, memorizing every inch.
“Can we do it again?”
“Absolutely.”
And I do. I kiss her over and over until I’m fairly certain I’m drunk on her kisses. The world is spinning, and everything feels upside down and right side up at the same damn time.
This is what a kiss should be. How the fuck have I gone thirty-two years without experiencing this?
“You’re really good at that,” Summer says when we separate. Her lips are swollen and the delicate pink colour has spread, tinting her tanned skin. She licks her lips and looks around with a sheepish smile. “But I don’t think we’re in the best spot for a major make out session.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, probably not.” But the truth is, now that I’ve had a taste, there is no way I can resist her anymore.
Summer stands up and reaches her hand down to me. I take it, linking our fingers together and we continue to walk through the market.
“Ethan!” A familiar voice calls out my name and we turn to see someone waving. My face breaks into a wide grin when I realize who it is.
“Finn McNeil!” I cry and tug Summer gently in the direction of my old roommate from university. Finn and I greet each other with hugs and back slaps. He’s standing out front of a vendor stall advertising a new winery.
“What’s going on, man?” I ask.
Finn grins at me, glancing down to where my hand has joined with Summer’s again. When he speaks, excitement bleeds into every word he says.
“Actually, I just moved here for a job. Pierre Monsat brought me on as master vintner for his new winery, La Lune Rouge. It’s actually fairly close to your hometown. I was thinking of getting in touch with you for a beer and maybe a tour? I’m gonna need someplace to live.”
