Fuck It (Yama Yama)

“Nothing!” Kasha blurts. “Just a random joke. Nothing real. Nothing to do with anything,” she rambles, scrambling to recover.

I want to draw a cartoon hole in the wall and jump through it right now. Wouldn’t that be awesome?

Now there’s a good commercial idea.

“I’m going to go make sure they didn’t have sex on my bed,” I say instead of answering that question, practically diving out of the room and jogging toward the stairs.

I’m a hot mess.

I’m so freaking ridiculous that it’s almost embarrassing.

Okay, so it’s mortifying.

I hope Kasha can somehow patch that up with peaches and rainbows so Anderson doesn’t realize what a true hot mess I am.

CHAPTER 12

LYDIA

It’s my second time staying at the Harper estate and both times have been far from normal. At least the drama is focused more on Bobby Jo and Roger. Everyone seems to have forgotten the sight of me blowing Simon.

The heat and humidity are oppressive. Sweat rolls down my sides as Simon and I jog down the beach.

“Why do you like this?” Simon pants. “It’s torture.”

“It’s healthy. You obviously work out. Are you trying to tell me you don’t run?”

“I jog. On a treadmill, in a nice, air-conditioned gym, not through sand.”

Putting on a burst of speed when we near the mansion, I throw a challenging grin back at him. “Don’t whine just because you can’t keep up with me.”

His lips twist into a smirk, and he sprints forward, smacking my ass. “We’ll see who has the most stamina tonight.”

We stop under a pier to catch our breath in the shade. He’s so sexy standing there all sweaty, his hair sticking to his temples. “Why wait until tonight?”

The words have barely left my mouth when I’m pulled down to the ground, straddling his firm, slick body. Our lips come together like they have a mind of their own. His hands roam my body, slipping under my bikini top, and I moan.

We’re not out in the open, and this is a private beach, but it seems like Monica has invited half the state to this getaway weekend. We could easily be caught. The thought sends a spike of nerves through me, but doesn’t deter me from kissing him back just as hard and sliding my hand down the front of his shorts.

His groan brings a smile to my face. Too bad it’s drowned out by the sound of Bobby Jo’s voice. “Good Lord, they’re like rabbits! They’re fucking every time I see them!”

Kasha and Henley’s giggles effectively kill the mood, and I sit up, flipping them off. “You are officially the world’s worst twat blocker,” I grumble, getting to my feet.

“Blocko taco,” Henley says and giggles.

“Are you drunk?” I ask, fighting a grin.

Swaying on her feet a bit, she replies, “I resent the accusation. But yes.”

Simon gets up, sand stuck all over his body, and Bobby Jo laughs. “You look like someone threw shit at you through a screen door.”

“Thanks.” He tries to brush it off, but apparently sweat makes a pretty good adhesive.

“Oh, don’t worry. It doesn’t make you any less attractive. If I were a few years younger…or you were somehow incapacitated…”

Henley is about to piss herself laughing.

“Come to the pool with us,” Kasha says. “You can drag yourself away from your marathon man for a few hours.”

Bobby Jo fans herself. “Marathon man? How long are we talking?”

Simon ignores her and cups my jaw, planting a kiss on my lips. “Go hang with your friends. But you’re mine tonight.” Turning to wink at Bobby Jo, he adds, “All night long.”

For some reason, I don’t want him to go, which should trigger a big flashing red warning sign in my head. “Come and swim with us,” I invite.

“I’ll take a quick dip, then go see what the guys are up to.”

We all head up the beach to the pool, and I see Kasha smile when she notices Simon grab my hand.

The pool is empty and looks really inviting, the water clear and sparkling in the late afternoon sun. Before I can inch my way down the steps, Simon grabs me and jumps in. My lungs seize up for a moment as I’m immersed in the freezing water.

“You asshole!” I splutter when we surface, laughing. Bobby Jo and Kasha wade into the shallow end while Henley stretches out on a lounger.

“You like it, though,” Simon taunts, his cool lips pressing to mine.

We’re in the deep end where my actions underwater can’t be seen, so I give him a squeeze through his shorts, and he curses under his breath. “You’re fucking killing me here, Lyd.”

He stays for another minute or two before climbing out, trying to conceal the huge bulge in his shorts. Luckily, Bobby Jo misses it since she’s gone to the pool house. Looking down at me, his eyes slam into mine. “Tonight,” he growls.