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“Casual?”
“That word just doesn’t stick. But I can’t make any promises, either. This is all new to me and I’m scared I’ll fuck it up.” She cast her gaze down. “I don’t want to hurt you either.”
No one had said anything like that to me before. No girl had ever stood in front of me and bared her soul like Shiloh. Or given a shit about my feelings. Because I’d never let myself have any.
She heaved a breath, her hands sliding up my chest, her fingers toying with the pendant. “So how about no labels? No rules. We’ll just do our best and maybe land somewhere between you coming to
my house in the rain and me answering your texts.” She raised her eyes to mine, dark and rich. “Sound good?”
There wasn’t a word for what I felt in that moment. Not one I recognized. All I could do was nod, my hands going around her waist, holding tight. That’s what you did with good and precious things. You held them tight and took care of them. I could do that. I could keep her safe and have her too.
“That sounds good,” I said and bent to kiss her. Softly. My eyes falling shut, savoring the taste of her.
Don’t fuck this up. Jesus, God, don’t let me fuck this up.
She moved in closer, molding to my chest. I could feel her heart and it was beating fast. She smiled against my lips.
“Something funny?” I asked, my hands roaming her back, soft and warm, her hair brushing my wrists.
“Not funny. Just good. Today’s lightyears from yesterday when I was at the hospital visiting Violet. It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“What happened?”
“She had a crash at soccer practice. Concussion.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s okay. Miller’s with her now.”
“About time.”
“Agree, but those two are giving me an ulcer. Literally hours before, River Whitmore asked Violet to Prom. As friends. And Violet said yes.”
“Doesn’t mean anything,” I said. “If Miller’s with Violet now, he won’t let her slip away again.”
I won’t let you slip away again, either.
“I just wonder what River’s endgame is.”
“River asked her to Prom as a friend, right?” I shrugged. “Maybe that’s what he needs. A friend.” I held her tighter. “And maybe it’s none of our fucking business.”
Shiloh smiled. “Good answer.”
Now we were pressed together, my forehead to hers, breathing her in, inhaling her scent.
“We’re doing this now?” she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper.
I nodded and lifted her onto the table. Her lips parted in a little gasp, her eyes never leaving mine as her fingers trailed up my arms. She spread her legs, bringing me in, holding me tight to her as I bent her over the table.
“Ronan,” Shiloh breathed, kissing my chin, my lower lip, my upper. “Is this when you make me come?”
The words went off like a flare in me. I crushed my mouth to hers, my hand in her braids, holding her in my kiss. Devouring her. Shiloh moaned and kissed me back, just as ravenous and ready. I wanted to crawl on top of the table and take her, but a whiff of clove cigarettes and expensive cologne infiltrated my red haze of desire.
I stood up. The window showed no one, but reality flooded in like a sobering slap to the face. Casual or not, Shiloh deserved better than a splintery table in an old fisherman’s shack that was splattered with gull shit and seaweed. Where Holden or Miller could walk in on us at any time.
“Come on.” I offered Shiloh my hand, helping her off the table.
“Where are we going?”
