I gently brush her hand away and thumb her chin to part her lips.“This.”Lightly, I press the tip of my thumb to the base of her front teeth.“This little gap here.It drives me fucking crazy.”
Her gaze clings to mine as she bites down on my thumb.The tip of her tongue grazes my skin, and a growl I can’t help rumbles in the back of my throat.
The whole “not my problem” mantra I’ve tried to adopt is starting to become “make her your problem” which is, in itself, a huge fucking problem.
I really need to stop flirting with her.But the booze has made my body feel warm and soft, and Chloe’s gaze has caught fire.My fingers curl around her chin and I tilt her face up to mine, drawing a little gasp from her.
My eyes feel heavy as I stare at her, tightening my grip on her jaw and giving it a firmer tug toward me.Did she just moan?Tension floods my chest, my fingers, my dick.
I’m already at half-mast, which doesn’t bode well for this campfire she thinks we’re going to.
At the moment, I can’t go anywhere without making a fool out of myself.
I shift on my stool and reluctantly let her go.But the gleam in her eyes doesn’t fade.
She knows she’s got me.She knows I want to fuck her, and I’m pretty certain she wants to fuck me too.
But I can’t.
Why can’t I again?We’re consenting adults, and there’s nothing wrong with a bit of holiday fun.
The problem is, something tells me that if I get a taste of this woman, I’m only gonna want more.
And if she feels the same way, goodbye, self-control.
Goodbye, schedule.
Goodbye, getting Mom and Dad’s house to where it needs to be before I have to go back to Philly.
This spell that Chloe and I have fallen under again needs to break.
“So, where’s this campfire?”I ask.
She twirls her paper straw in her glass.“Drink up and I’ll show you.”
We both throw back what’s left of our drinks, then push off our stools.Chloe reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers tight.My breathing speeds up as she leads me through the busy patio onto a strip of grass.Soft sand kicks over my shoes, and the salty wind blowing off the sea rakes through my hair as we step onto the beach.
Down near the shoreline, flames flicker against the midnight-blue sea.A group of figures gather around a fire in silhouette, some sitting, some standing.I can’t quite focus beyond the feeling of Chloe’s hand still fitting snugly in mine.With a thud, I realize the fun part of the night is over.I’m gonna have to make conversation with these strangers—my least-favorite pastime.
A woman with ocean-blue hair and a flowy white dress jumps up to meet us.She kisses Chloe on the cheek, her eyes widening at our joined hands.
Chloe lets go, but her palm moves to my lower back.“Ethan, Willow.Willow, Ethan.”
I stick out a hand.“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Willow grins and gives me a formal handshake.
Chuckling, Chloe hands me a beer from the cooler.“Don’t worry, I’m loosening him up,” she says to Willow.“It’s a work-in-progress.”
“No one feels relaxed during a full moon,” Willow replies, tilting her face to the sky and throwing out her arms.“This is a night for manifesting and creating from the moon’s energy.”
Is she for real?
Everyone hanging around this fire looks like they’re members of a secret society that worships moon phases, and ocean tides.The guy sitting beside me with a bandana tied around his stringy blond hair looks like he just rode in on the last wave and has a name like Zeke.
Chloe introduces him as Ziggy (man, I was close), and I spend the next ten minutes thinking of creative ways to cut off my own ears while he drones on about his fantasy football team, “Gettin’ Ziggy with It.”I keep myself entertained by asking for super-detailed stats and facts, watching him squirm as he tries to figure out whether I’m genuinely interested or just an asshole.
In case it wasn’t clear, it’s the latter.My specialty.
