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“I’ve got you, T.”
She snaps her attention to me at my warm, steady tone, and the air thickens between us. My fingertips skate down her cheek to hold her chin. The desire to kiss her rises so fast it leaves me lightheaded. I came so close to tasting her before. Holding out is killing me when all I want is to devour her. Not yet, though.
It’s too risky to do anything here, anyway. Jackson should be here if he isn’t already.
“Best way to do it is to dive in. No skirting around the edges waiting for your moment.”
She nods, fixated on my advice like it’s the most important thing she’s ever heard. Smirking, I tilt my head in the direction of the bonfire in silent invitation. We get out of the Jeep and she pauses, glancing down at the denim overall dress she has on over a tight black t-shirt. My gaze moves between her and the other chicks at the party. They’re all dressed in low-cut tops, short skirts, and pants so tight they look painted on.
“You look good.” I give Tatum an appreciative once over. “Don’t worry.”
“Yeah?” She smooths her hands over the bottom of the dress. “I don’t know.”
Making sure no one’s watching, I step into her space and tug on one of the straps. She makes this cute little squeak that has me grinning.
“Babe, believe me. You could wear a brown paper bag and still look hot.”
Hot enough to eat up. I wish I could walk her to the edge of the party, past the glow of the bonfire and show her just how much I like her outfit. But this isn’t about me, it’s about her.
She sucks on her bottom lip and peers up at me with those big blue eyes. Freckles from time in the sun dot her button nose. When I nod again, brushing hair away from her face, she grins wide enough for me to see the crooked tooth from when she fell off Jackson’s bike. I love the quirky imperfection. Makes her seem more real than any of the girls I’ve been with who would freak over something like that.
I take her shoulders and steer her toward the party. As we approach, everyone recognizes me. I get back slaps and nods. Girls smile, guys pass me a drink. I don’t really know most of them, but I see them all at parties, and everyone makes a point of knowing me—or at least pretending to.
Tatum shrinks into my side and avoids the curious looks she gets from people. I won’t push her, but any attempts I make to include her in conversations are short lived.
Once I finally get us away from the people crowding us, I take Tatum over to the fire.
“First step of relaxing? Letting go of any worries about what people think. What you wear doesn’t matter.”
“If you say so.”
“That’s the secret to confidence.”
She eyes me up and down. “No arguments here. You’ve got that in spades.”
I motion to the keg in an offer to get her a drink. “People flock to anyone who’s sure of themselves. I didn’t do anything to build myself up, I just did my own thing.”
“It’s because people are drawn to what they want,” she says as I hand over the plastic cup. “They can believe they’re capable of ditching their own self doubts if they see it in others.”
Smirking, I press my lips to her ear when the music gets louder. “Like that. Keep talking nerd. It’s your thing and it’s hot when you explain that psychological stuff.”
She laughs and swats at my chest with the back of her hand. “So, can we dance? I need something to keep me busy, or I’m going to end up standing in the cove equivalent of the corner.”
“Not can we. You’re still overthinking. Tell me what you want to do, woman.”
Tate purses her lips. “Fine. Come on, party bud. It’s time to shake our asses.”
“That’s more like it.” I grin and follow her.
I catch sight of Jackson talking to some friends we surf with and nod at him when he spots me. Confusion crosses his face when his attention shifts to his sister.
The breeze coming off the ocean is cool, but the flames of the bonfire are warm. Tatum finds us an open spot and throws herself into dancing before she can think her way out of it.
Pride and warmth fill me, along with a possessive feeling. I’m the one who gets to teach her this—the first to touch her, to show her how good I can make her feel. I swipe my tongue over my lips and my fingers curl into my palm to keep from pulling her closer.
She sways back and forth, lifting her drink and closing her eyes as she moves to the music, oblivious to my thoughts. I’m not ruining a good night by being laid out by my best friend’s fist for touching his sister. Instead, I keep a respectable distance between our bodies and hype her up when she gets into it.
“This is pretty great,” she says breathlessly as we jump to a fast-paced song.
