Summer's Fun (The Boys of Ocean Beach 2)

“Sexy things. Things that I’d only do to the…one…my one.”

My heart skips and my stomach twists. “Like what?”

“Lick you all over. Taste you.” His eyes open and he touches my chin. “I want to claim you, like an animal claims his mate.”

He bares his teeth in a silly rawr. God, he’s out of it.

“You can do that. You can,” I tell him, feeling the tension in my lower belly. “But you never do.”

“You’re not that girl. You’re sweet. Kind. So smart.” Again, his eyelids droop. “You don’t want to be with a loser. A dropout. A bum…”

“What are you talking about?”

He mumbles a few other words, barely awake. I slip an ice cube between his lips, trying to cool him off, and he dozes off. As his fever settles I brush the hair off his forehead, now a bit shaggier from growing out. His beauty has never been lost on me and certainly not his physical strength, but at the moment he looks so vulnerable. So fragile.

Whit has always been so restrained, but that stuff he said…in between the weirdness and rambling, was probably a little bit of truth. He did want me, something was just holding him back. Something that we could work through when he felt better.

Keeping an eye on him, I curl up on an armchair in the corner and fall asleep myself, waking later to find him coming from the bathroom. A waft of soap and shampoo follows him. He’s shirtless and wearing a clean pair of shorts. It’s a brilliant sight to wake up to.

“Hey,” I rub my eyes. “Did you take a shower?”

“I woke up feeling a million times better.”

I stretch my arms over my head and stand. “You had me worried for a little bit.”

He walks over, hand grazing my hip. “I don’t think I’m going to work today but I had to clean up.”

“That’s a good sign.” I lean into his chest. He smells so good.

“How about you? How are you holding up? Any signs of feeling bad?”

I shake my head. “I’m just tired.”

“From watching me for the last two days.” He brushes my hair over my shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I was happy to do it.” I stifle a yawn. He pulls me to the bed.

“That shower wore me out. Really the last two days. I was totally out of it.”

“Yeah, sometimes you were.” I think over our “conversation” during his last fever. “You said something last night about thinking you’re not good enough for me. Is that true?”

His jaw tenses. “Although that may sound like the ramblings of a man with a fever, I won’t deny that sometimes I wonder.”

“What? That you’re not good enough? That’s ridiculous.”

Looking down, he says, “I’ve spent my life being told I’m not good enough—or specifically if I don’t do this one thing I’ll never amount to anything. I’m caught in a weird spot right now and unfortunately you’re caught up in it with me.”

“Whit, I support you no matter what, do you understand that?” I want to tell him I’m struggling too and how I want to change schools—but it feels idiotic. Moving for a bunch of guys.

He nods, but I’m not sure my sentiment sticks. He sighs and says, “Let’s take a nap.”

I raise an eyebrow, thinking about all the other things he said last night. “A nap?”

“God, I wish it was more than a nap, but I don’t think you’d be very satisfied in my current condition.”

I follow him into the bed, snuggling under the blankets. He kisses my forehead and my lips and I ease into the crook of his arm. I feel the warmth of his skin, the thud of his heartbeat.

It’s coming to light that Whit is carrying more demons than he wants to share—more desire than he’s willing to commit to. Both of these things I’m willing to help him through, and as I drift to sleep in his arms, I plan on doing just that.