Sabrina rolled over to her side, grinning up at me. “You should try the sunscreen, Caiden. You’re looking a little red already.”
I shrugged, not trusting myself to answer. The burn in my skin had nothing to do with the sun.
Amelia glanced up, flashing that same quick, cold look from the kitchen. “Don’t be an idiot, put some on. Your skin will peel.”
I grunted, squeezed a handful out, and started slapping it over my arms, not caring that I was making a mess.
I worked it into my skin, rough and quick, but my hands shook with the effort.
I wondered if she could see that. I hoped to fuck she couldn’t.
But the way she watched, sly and sidelong, told me she saw everything.
The sun crawled higher, heat and sweat making my temper simmer.
Shane and Alex tossed a frisbee by the surf, the girls lounging and talking, but it was all just motion in the periphery.
There was only her and the blood pounding in my ears.
At some point, Sabrina and Sydney wandered off, leaving Amelia alone with her phone and the slow, lazy burn of the sun.
I drifted closer, sat on the edge of her towel, every cell in my body braced for the lash of her tongue.
She didn’t speak at first, just stretched out, hair fanned over her forearm, a little smile twitching at her lips.
She was beautiful in a way that was almost hostile. Like she’d learned to weaponize every soft edge, every glint of green in her eyes.
“You’re staring again,” she said, not looking up from the phone.
“Maybe I am,” I said. My voice was rough, the words more honest than I meant.
She propped herself up. “You’re not subtle, Caiden.”
She didn’t break eye contact, didn’t try to soften the jab. She just let it hang there, the truth of it bleeding into the space between us.
I looked at her and felt myself split open. The ache was hungry and raw, all the uglier for how much I wanted it.
“You want me to stop?” I asked.
She rolled onto her back, arching her spine, and the blue triangles of her bikini dug even deeper into her skin. “Not my business what you do.” Her eyes flicked up. “Not like you ever listened to me.”
There was a dare in her tone. Or maybe it was just the old spite. I didn’t care. I was too far gone to tell the difference anymore.
I leaned over, braced on one palm, and let the shadow of me stretch out across her body. “You could tell me to fuck off. You used to.”
“Would you listen if I did?” she shot back, but her voice was soft at the edges.
I thought about that. The old days, the way she’d spit fire at me, even when I had her twisted up, arms pinned, back to the wall.
I’d laughed at her then, reveled in the way she’d fight me to the last inch.
But now, I didn’t want to fight; I just wanted to lose myself in her.
My hand hovered over her stomach, not touching, just a threat of touch, and I watched the muscles tense under her skin, the way her breath came faster.
My fingers itched. I wanted to palm her ribs, dig my thumbs into the soft flesh just above her hip bone, watch her squirm. I wanted to see if she’d bite back, or if she’d close her eyes and let me.
Her jaw ticked. “You gonna say something or just loom over me?”
