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I turned back to the ocean, swallowing hard. There were more words inside my chest, words bubbling up from a deep place in my stomach. But they weren’t the words I’d expected. Not the feelings I’d expected. So much had changed since last semester.
Opening my mouth, I gazed into the darkness, willing the anger to well back up. It was still there inside me, but now it was… different.
I stayed like that for several minutes, mouth half-open, breathing in the salty spray of the ocean, tasting it on my tongue.
Then I pressed my lips closed. Took a deep inhale.
And turned back to face the Princes.
They were watching me, four sets of eyes glittering like stars as I moved purposefully toward Elijah.
He’d kissed me once—outside of a game, outside of a dare—and now I kissed him back. His lips tasted like the ocean, and the scent of sage teased my nostrils as I rose up on tiptoes and pressed my mouth to his. It wasn’t a long kiss, not as desperate and needy as our kiss in the basement had been, not as slow and deep as the one in my dorm.
But it felt purposeful, like I was giving something and taking something at the same time.
When I pulled away, he blinked down at me, his fingers squeezing the curve of my waist and the swell of my hips.
I stepped back, turning toward Finn next. He had a look on his face that would’ve made me laugh if my heart hadn’t been galloping so fast—like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing and was torn between shock and awe.
But when I moved toward him and kissed him, he didn’t hesitate, welcoming me into his arms like I belonged there.
Cole was next, and his jaw clenched as I approached him, his eyes going blank the way I was starting to think they did when he was trying to avoid feeling too much.
I didn’t let it stop me though. I pressed light kisses to both corners of his mouth, entranced by the full, perfect bow of his lips. He was beautiful, the way an apex predator was beautiful. A piece of living, natural art too wild to contain behind a glass case or a frame.
His chest rose and fell beneath my palm, and I felt the moment when his restraint snapped, a half-second before his lips sealed over mine.
I was breathing hard when I pulled back, and I glanced at the other three, who’d gathered around close in the darkness. The bottle was gone from Mason’s hand, and I wondered if he’d thrown it in the ocean.
When I turned toward him, the look on his face almost made me stop.
His expression was neutral, but every muscle in his face was taut, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
I hesitated two steps away from him, frozen in place.
But just when I was about to back away, his hand whipped out and caught my wrist, tugging me forward and closing the gap between us.
When his lips crashed into mine, I kissed him with every last bit of anger left inside me, and he kissed me like he might never get the chance again. It felt raw and real and messy, full of words neither of us was brave enough to say yet. My fingernails dug into his back, as if even though my heart and mind craved him, they still wanted to hurt him too.
We walked the fine line between love and hate… and with a start, I realized which side I was falling toward.
Chapter 26
Ugh. No more tequila. No more whiskey. No more vodka.
I rolled over in bed, tugging a pillow over my face to block out the light. Shit. Finn hadn’t remembered to make me drink lots of water at the end of the night, and I swore I could still feel the alcohol burning through my veins.
I’d been wrong—Mason hadn’t brought the bottle into the ocean. The gleam I thought I’d seen must’ve been something else. Which meant after we walked back onto shore, half a bottle was still waiting for us, and we’d finished the whole fucking thing.
That would be the last time I drank tequila in a while.
Damn, I’m running out of good options. Maybe I’ll have to start drinking wine spritzers or something.
Then again, maybe I should stop actively looking for new boozes to drink. With at least two alcoholics in the family, I knew I was playing with fire every time I picked up a bottle, and I was well versed in every single excuse there was about why “this time will be different” or “it doesn’t own me”.
I wouldn’t be like my dad.
Or my grandparents.
