Page 52 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

The vibration spreads through me like lava seeping into the cracks of broken earth as the volcano erupts. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on, ready to erupt myself. Arching my back, I thrust my hips forward, as if that’s the answer.

Milo reads my mind, knowing exactly what I’m searching for. He slides a finger in me again, his mouth trained straight on my clit, and taps. He must have the password to my body because it’s all it takes.

My own personal fireworks display sparks behind my eyelids, my body going rigid. It’s too much, sending me soaring. To the point where I can almost feel my soul leave my body for a second. My crash landing back into reality is a hard one, my limbs turning to jelly, each beat of my pulse thrumming like the bass in a stereo system.

I have to catch my breath, my head thrown back so my wet hair hangs over the side of the boat. Moving seems like too much of a chore, so I don’t. I stay put, waiting for energy to return.

Before it can, Milo scoops me up in his arms, kissing me gently. It’s the same easy, affectionate kiss as before. Only this time I can taste myself on his lips. It’s sweet, tangy, and mixes well with him.

He gets me on my feet long enough to pull his T-shirt over my head. It’s still dry since he’d removed it before we went overboard, and the soft cotton feels good against my still buzzing skin. I also like the idea of wearing his clothes way more than I want to admit.

A bright blue explosion lights up the sky, quickly followed by a red one. Milo smirks at me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Just in time. But hold on, I’ve got pillows.”

Pillows?

He makes quick work of dashing back to the cabin and grabbing a pile of pillows that had been stashed. Arranging them on a dry part of the boat floor, he removes his wet shorts, leaving him in a pair of black boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination. The hard bulge in the front is impressive.

“C’mere.”

He pulls me close, then lowers us to the ground. He leans against the pillows, holding me to his chest. All my muscles relax, the post sex high still in effect. Then again, with Milo’s arms around me, inhaling his manly smell with each breath, I’m not sure that it’s going to go away soon.

“Milo,” I whisper. My eyelids are heavy, and I sink into him even more. Tightening his embrace, he wraps his legs around mine, cocooning me in.

“Yeah?”

I yawn, the steady, even rise and fall of his chest matching the movement of the boat. I search my brain, trying to figure out what I was going to say. Only, I can’t find it. I try to mutter something, but I’m not even sure that the words fully form.

The lull of the night starts to take over, and the only thing that matters is being curled up against this man. Listening to his heartbeat, knowing that even if only for tonight, he’s mine. That these arms are where I belong.

So that’s where I stay.

16

MILO

“Please tell me you have an almost empty keg I can steal.”

Hux’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, jarring me. He’s on edge, I can tell, not only by the sharpness of his tone, but by the way he’s stalking toward me. It’s a hell of a transition from the memories of Brenna and the Fourth of July that I was lost in.

“Errrr…”

I kick the three large silver barrels next to me. Silver Lining is mostly full, and Party Mode is brand-new—we tapped that last night during a Pints and Purls. Sob Story, on the other hand, is dead. If we tried real hard we might be able to get a single gulp out of it—and by real hard I mean one of us holding the keg upside down, shaking every last drop into a glass the other held in place. Not worth it.

“Nope,” I reply, screwing the tap back into the draught faucet. I grab a towel, drying my hands from the soapy water I was using to clean out the taps, tossing it to the side. “But one’s full, one’s freshly tapped and the other’s ’bout to be. Could pour you some to go. What’s the occasion?”

Hux sneers. “Dolly’s in tears. I don’t know what that fucker did now, but…”

He trails off, parking himself on a stool and leaning on the rough cut bar. He shakes his head, no doubt thinking about tearing his best friend’s fiancé from limb to limb. Because if there’s one thing you need to know about Huxley Hayes, it’s that he thinks Dolly McLain walks on water. She always has, and always will. And if you try to argue that fact, you’ll end up regretting it.

Her fiancé, Jeff, however…well, there’s no love lost there. Hux tolerates him for the sole purpose of keeping Dolly happy. She loves him, and to Hux, that’s all that matters.

“How do you even know it’s him?” I ask.

“It’s in her voice. She only sounds like that when he upsets her.”

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