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She’s shy after that.
It defies explanation.
But then that’s Daisy.
She’s something else.
She helps me into my swimsuit.
I help her into hers.
“We should probably—” she motions to the beach opposite us.
I nod yeah. It’s getting late. The boat is due back soon.
“That was uh…”
“Educational?”
“Really hot. But also educational. Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“Later?”
“Later?” I’m too disconnected from conscious thought to follow this conversation.
“Can we do that again? Later?”
Oh. “Yeah. But not until after you come on my cock again.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Daisy
We barely make it to the boat.
I spend the ride back to town sharing Luna’s headphones, whispering a replay I really shouldn’t share.
Not with Oliver ten feet away.
But then I don’t care.
For once, I’m relaxed. Easy. Free.
Totally and completely spent.
The ride passes quickly. Then it’s dinner at a restaurant downtown. A quiet place with fresh fish and homemade cocktails.
Mine is delicious—some mix of tequila and tropical fruit—but it’s also enough to push my exhaustion over the edge.
Genius that she is, Luna insists she wants to stay out for one more drink.
Holden agrees to take me home.
We have the place to ourselves. For long enough. But I’m too out of energy.
Even so, I invite him to shower with me.
It’s strange, being naked with him in the tiny space, under the bright lights.
There’s a part of me that’s scared and insecure, but it’s tiny. Barely there.
Even as he soaps his hands and runs them over my body.
Even as he holds me close.
Even as he whispers, “I want to watch you come,” in my ear and slips his hand between my legs.
My insecurities disappear.
All my thoughts disappear.
I surrender to the sensations in my body.
He makes me come quickly. Then he helps me out of the shower, into my pajamas, into bed.
He holds me close.
I know he’ll leave as soon as I fall asleep.
I know he’s too good at this to get caught.
But I don’t care.
I only care about how good his body feels against mine.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Daisy
I wake to the orange light of sunrise. I’m alone—Holden must have left my bed hours ago—but I don’t feel abandoned.
Yes, I want him here. I want him closer. I want every inch of him pressed against every inch of me.
But I’m also a reasonable woman. Even if Oliver wasn’t an issue, Holden is…
Not a commitment guy.
And I don’t need a commitment. No matter how much I like him. Or how good he makes me feel. Or how much easier it is to let go around him.
It’s a fresh start. Another one, I guess. No whispered secrets about last summer (they followed me to my new school). No comments on how uptight I am. Or how I need to let my hair down. (I wear it down, thank you very much.)
Yes, I feel free around Holden now. But starting school with a long-term boyfriend, one who’s never had a girlfriend before, who usually sleeps with a different person every three days.
I don’t need that headache.
I just don’t.
No matter how much I want it. Or want him. Or want this to last forever.
Ahem.
I fix a cup of English breakfast with extra milk. Then my usual oatmeal. Raisins, cinnamon, milk.
It’s nice, eating alone, at the big table. It’s nice to finally have some space that’s all mine.
When I’m finished, I check my cell messages. One from each of my parents. A sweet happy birthday, honey, call me if you need anything from Dad. And an I miss you so much, please call plea from Mom.
She sounds lucid, but it’s hard to tell with her.
I listen twice, make a mental note to call back later—it’s really early in California—then I fix another cup of tea and head to the pool deck.
It’s already warm—too warm for a hot beverage—so I slip my feet into the pool. Watch the sunrise as I sip.
Slowly, the orange fades from the sky.
The sun falls over the pool deck.
Over me.
I close my eyes and soak in the feeling of warmth. It’s comfortable. Safe. There’s no other way to describe it.
It’s perfect.
This—dipping my feet in the water, feeling the sun on my face, listening to the quiet sounds of the quaint town beneath us—is perfect.
It’s peace.
It’s the thing I’ve been failing to achieve for the last… ever.
Footsteps interrupt the quiet.
I turn, expecting Holden.
But Oliver is the one sliding through the glass door. He holds up a water bottle. You want some?
“Sure.” I turn my back to him. Focus on the brilliant blue sky.
My brother sits next to me. Dips his feet in the water. Hands me the bottle. “You’re up early.”
“I was going to say the same.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Why not?” I take a long sip. Then another. Fuck, I am thirsty. Thirsty enough to down this entire thing.
“Just couldn’t.”
“Drink too much?”
He shakes his head no. Says nothing about the comment. Or his lack of desire to have this conversation again.
Honestly, I don’t want to have it either.
