“Come for me,” I whisper against her jaw. “Let me feel you.”
She shatters, body tensing, moaning loudly enough to carry across the water. I push my hand down farther, rubbing my palm on her clit as I slide a finger inside of her tightness and feel her pussy pulse around it, and I’m gone. I grind against her hip, the pressure and the sound of her release pushing me over toward my own release. I imagine my dick is where my finger is and how it will feel when one day I really do slip inside of her. Madeline is so fucking tight, and I only have a single digit inside. It’s too much.
I groan into her neck, spilling in my jeans, the orgasm tearing through me.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, her head on my chest, my hand still tucked inside her jeans, tracing lazy patterns. The stars come out, one by one, and I hold her like I can keep her forever.
Like I can keep her safe from whatever’s coming.
Chapter Twenty-Five
MADELINE
Georgia falls into step beside me, her fingers playing with the end of the braid I did for her this morning. Loose pieces frame her face. I love when she lets me do her hair. I don’t always do my own makeup and hair, but I enjoy it.
Luke’s at morning practice, and Georgia suggested we get up early and grab breakfast at the coffee shop before class. I agreed. We haven’t had much time to catch up lately. We’re both busy, and so much is going on.
“So,” she says, tugging the braid. “Luke.”
I keep my eyes forward. “What about him?” I knew this was coming. I’m still processing it. The other night was wonderful. I’m in deep, and I’m uncertain if I should let myself keep sinking or try to wiggle my way out of it, but wiggling away from Luke is proving to be impossible.
“You disappeared with him for hours the other night. You’ve been walking around with this”—she waves her hand at my face—“look. Maddie. I am your best friend. I am owed some details.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “We had dinner.”
“And?” She draws out the word, knowing there’s more. I both love and hate that she knows me so well.
“And... we messed around.”
Georgia stops walking and grabs my arm. “Messed around? Like, messed around, messed around?” She glances to her left and to her right like the FBI might be listening.
“Georgia, keep walking.”
“Not until you tell me.” She’s grinning, delighted. “How far? Second base? Third? A home run?”
I think of his hands, his mouth, and the things he said, like he meant it down to his bones. If I’m being honest, it’s consumed my thoughts, which gives me some guilt, but what can I really do about Coach Murphy right now?
“I don’t know,” I admit quietly. “Past second but not all the way to third?” I’m not into baseball, and this is my first time having stepped up to bat, so I could be wrong.
“Holy shit.” She shakes her head. “Luke Locke. The guy who people fear and want, but he gives no one the time of day.” She falls back into step, still playing with her braid. “Is he... you know... intense about everything?”
“Yeah,” I say. “He’s intense.” In fact, I need a bigger word than that for him. “But I worry,” I admit to her.
“What’s your reason now as to why you can’t date him?”
“Hey.” I bump my shoulder with hers. “You don’t even like him.”
“He’s growing on me like a Cordyceps.” This time it’s me who stops walking.
“A what?”
“Cordyceps. It’s a type of fungus.” Of course it is. “It’s famous for taking over the bodies of insects in the wild.”
“It’s famous,” I say, laughing. I hook my arm through hers, and we start walking again.
“Now tell me what you’re worried about.” Right. I know it’s my own bullshit and me trying to protect myself. My heart already broke once this year when my dad died. I can’t go through that again. I’m still healing.
“That he’s only chasing after me because I didn’t give him the time of day. That I’m just a challenge to him.”
