With This Fling (Summersweet Island 5)

“What are you doing?” I whisper, making no move to pull away even though I should.

“Just giving myself a little taste, sugar.”

Jesus, why is everything he says so hot? Taste away. Lick every damn inch of me.

My eyes start to flutter closed as he kisses and nips his way up the side of my neck, and I almost completely forget where I am and what I’m doing here. Until the loud gonging of the hideous grandfather clock Shepherd insisted on buying a few months ago reminds me where I am. I quickly jerk my neck away from his maddening mouth and shrug out of Dean’s tight hold on me, taking a few steps farther into the house.

I keep going, with Dean staying right on my heels, clenching my hands into fists before I’m tempted to run my fingertips over the side of my neck where I can still feel his lips, shaking my head as I walk. And not just because he’s sticking to me like glue when I need a little space after whatever the hell that was, but because there are red Solo cups littering every surface, along with a bunch of empty pizza boxes and crumpled-up napkins.

“Welcome to the dick party,” I mutter, pausing in the middle of the living room.

“The goddamn price of admission…,” Dean trails off as he steps up next to me, and we take it all in.

Everywhere we look, there are plastic and rubber penises in every size, shape, and color haphazardly decorating Shepherd and Wren’s home. They’re stuck in planters, resting on window ledges, shoved into couch cushions, wedged into light fixtures attached to the wall, and mixed in with the bananas and apples in the fruit bowl on the kitchen island.

“You want to go look for Owen?” Dean asks.

“I’ll give him some time to continue hiding and trying to come up with a good lie to tell me.”

Moving through the living room and into the kitchen, I walk around the island and pull open a cabinet above the counter just for the hell of it. A few rubber penises immediately come tumbling out, one of them rolling off the counter and right onto the floor. I turn back around when I hear Dean mutter a curse.

“This is gonna be a hard one to explain to Wren,” he says as he nods seriously. And I can’t hold it in any longer when I see him standing across the island from me, still holding that damn purple, glittery dildo in his hand as he points around the room with it.

I begin to laugh, and once I start laughing, I can’t stop.

“You said hard one!” I sputter before throwing my head back and howling.

“You think this is funny, do you?” Dean starts walking around the island toward me. He tries to give me a stern look as he walks, pointing the pretty purple penis at me in a scolding manner and making me laugh harder, but I can see the corner of his mouth twitching as that thing jiggles in his hand. “This isn’t funny.”

“Well, the air is thick with laughter.” I giggle as he tosses the purple dick on the counter as soon as he’s standing right in front of me. When it lands with a loud thunk, I start dying all over again, one hand clutching my stomach while I rest the other on the counter. “Come on, don’t be so rigid.” I can barely get the word out I’m laughing so hard while Dean’s mouth still twitches as he shakes his head at me.

“Are you finished?”

“I’m sorry.” I snort. “Are my jokes flaccid?”

My laughter suddenly cuts off with a gasp when Dean snakes his arm around my waist again, jerking my front against his this time. My hands fly up to grab onto his shoulders, while his mouth hovers inches away from mine—not moving, not saying anything for a few moments, just staring down at me with heat in his eyes.

All I can do is stare right back at him, breathing heavy, feeling every hard, beautiful inch of him pressed up against all my soft parts as his arm tightens around me.

“What the hell are you doing to me?”

The words are whispered, but he might as well have shouted them with the way my ears are ringing and my head is spinning.

His eyes search my face like it has the answer to his question on it, but I just want to melt right into him, wondering what the hell he’s doing to me as well. I never get butterflies with a man, and now I have a swarm that has taken up permanent residence in my stomach. And I like it. I like that he makes me nervous and feel like a giddy teenager. And I definitely like how good it feels to have his arm around me, holding me against him, the heat from his body warming all the cold and loneliness inside me.

My eyes flicker down to his mouth, wanting it on me so badly I feel like I can’t breathe. Dean lets out a little groan and flattens his hand against my lower back, pressing me closer, slowly inching his lips toward mine, where I need them the most. I even like this feeling of anticipation as well, my heart pounding faster, everything around me disappearing until it feels like we’re the only two people in the world right n—

“Aww, man, is the party over?”

Dean and I scramble away from each other like someone just shouted that the house is on fire, both of us groaning when we turn toward the owner of the voice.

“Bodhi? Seriously?” I scold the man currently lounging against the doorframe of the kitchen that leads into the dining room while he shovels a handful of Cheetos in his mouth from the bag tucked into the crook of his arm.

“Sorry about the cock-blocking.” He grins, not at all sorry as my body heats with embarrassment.

Choosing to ignore it, I concentrate on my annoyance instead. “What are you doing here?”

“Heard there was a kick-ass party happening on the island tonight, and it only cost a dick to get in.” Bodhi shrugs, swiping his hand back and forth over the front of his T-shirt and leaving orange Cheetos dust behind as he pushes off the doorframe to walk toward us. “Didn’t realize this kick-ass party was at Wren and Shepherd’s until I got here. Don’t worry. I made sure they didn’t do anything too stupid, and confiscated all of their weed. Cheetos?”