Page 47 of Always: A Legacy Novel

“You’re out with us,” Cross said, shooting her a look, “so yours must not mind, either.”

Catherine’s nose scrunched up. “Yeah, I guess.”

“They didn’t mind, right?”

“No, Cross, they didn’t mind.”

He was pretty sure she had said that just to make him shut up about it, but he decided not to press it. Besides, if he did, and he got an answer he didn’t like or one that might get him into ten shades of shit, he would have to take her back home.

Cross liked her right where she was.

Without warning, Cross grabbed Catherine around her waist, and pulled her on top of him. His fingertips grazed along the outsides of her smooth thighs up under the flower pattern of her summer dress. His exploration was only stopped by the twinkle of green eyes and the fast kiss she dropped to his lips.

Honestly, he didn’t need to be going beyond that, anyway. No need to flash his girl’s ass to the rest of the people on the beach. It was difficult enough to ignore the way his jeans got tighter and more uncomfortable because Catherine was on top of him and moving in that way of hers.

Not that it mattered.

Just because it was hard to ignore, didn’t mean he acted on what he felt.

Cross let Catherine decide on all of that—from when and if she wanted him to touch her, to when and if she wanted to touch him.

It was always going to be on her.

Catherine grabbed the edge of the extra-large blanket they were laying on, and pulled the fabric up over her back until they were both covered and shaded from the sun. Cross brushed away the bit of sand that had fallen into her hair. Catherine pulled off his sunglasses.

She caught his hands with her own. Her palms pressed to his while her fingertips tapped against his softly, and then he weaved their fingers tightly together.

She smelled like cherries, summer, and innocence.

“Hey,” she whispered.

Cross grinned. “Hey.”

“Best day of the summer yet, Cross.”

“You think?”

“Yep”

Her teasing, sweet fingertips drew pathways over his arms, up his throat, along his jaw, and then over his lips. He stayed still and enjoyed her touches.

“Cross?”

“Hmm?”

Catherine’s cheeks reddened.

“What, Catherine?”

“Have you ever … like, had sex? I just wondered, because, I don’t know,” she said, still pink-cheeked and avoiding his gaze, “you don’t ask, but you’re … well …” She shifted on him again, making him painfully aware of what she was trying to say without saying it.

“Hard,” he said frankly.

“Yeah. Have you?”

Cross shrugged. “Sure.”

Catherine looked away. “Huh.”