In Too Deep

The problem was that Chloe wasn’t the kind of girl who taunted and teased. She’d always been the girl to help a neighbor, went to church every Sunday, never spoke a mean word to anyone. But laying splayed out before him, she didn’t look so innocent. Sweet? Yes. The kind he wanted to devour.

He licked his lips and lowered his mouth to her abdomen. When the tip of his tongue made contact with her skin, she quivered slightly. He stroked slowly, allowing her time to change her mind. She smelled like summer: sunscreen and bug spray and youth. Completely fitting for this moment.

The rough grains of salt on his tongue rubbed against her as he lapped them up. Goosebumps rose across her skin as his tongue moved, but she held still. He picked up the shot glass and downed the tequila. The burn of alcohol slid down his throat, tasteless. He concentrated on savoring her and the silky feel of her skin on his tongue. Then he moved to her mouth to take the lime from her lips.

He hovered above her face for a second, staring into her eyes, still full of dare. Leaning in, he couldn’t help but allow his tongue to sweep into her mouth to sample her forbidden taste. He pulled back with the lime at the same time she gasped.

Silence surrounded them as if they’d been swallowed by a bubble. Only the crackle of fire behind him spoke of time continuing. He waited for the slap that didn’t come.

She simply sat up, tugging her shirt in place. She shot another arched brow in his direction. Chloe had definitely outgrown her shyness.

The crowd began to murmur, but no one spoke of what they’d witnessed. Chloe rose to take her turn. He tossed the lime into the fire.

Chloe turned her attention to the crowd. “Kevin.”

“Truth.”

“Why didn’t you ever ask me out when we were younger?”

Seemed like Chloe was trying to push everyone’s buttons tonight. If the Doyles were the worst in the neighborhood, the O’Malleys came in not too far behind, and Kevin was an O’Malley.

“You were a good girl, like your sister.”

“So?” she asked. “I dated Brendan Doyle,” she added with a wave over in his direction.

Ronan burst out laughing. Of course, she wouldn’t get it. While Brendan had had a rough year or so right after Dad disappeared, he straightened up, became the model son. He bought into the whole, I’m-the-man-of-the-house-now thing. Everyone loved him.

Some people around the fire focused on Chloe and Kevin. Others stared at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

He hated the added attention, so he went to refill his beer at the keg. He didn’t know what he’d been looking for from that stunt. The ability to finally put his tongue in Chloe’s mouth without repercussion? Give her reason once again to fear being near him? He got neither. She simply handled it as part of the stupid game.

Footsteps slapped the pavement behind him. He turned to see Chloe striding up, the sway of her hips causing her shirt to ride up a little, baring a strip of skin he’d had his tongue on.

“It’s good to see you back in the neighborhood.”

He gave a non-committal hum. He wasn’t sure how good this was. She ran a finger over the rim of her plastic cup.

“So, that was pretty hot,” she said, lifting her chin toward the fire.

“If you say so.”

“Oh, I definitely say so.” She stepped closer. “How long are you in town for?”

“Not sure.” Until I can find answers about my dad.

“Maybe we can get a drink together. Or something.”

“What are you doing, Chloe? How drunk are you?” In his recollection, being drunk was the only way she was ever attracted to him.

“I’m not drunk. A little buzzed. And that body shot got me humming. I just thought we could continue.”

“Really?” He pushed their history from his mind. If he was going to hell, he planned on making it worth it. He dropped his cup and slipped a finger through the loop of her shorts at her waist. He tugged her closer until her body brushed his. He lowered his mouth to hers. Her breath fluttered against his lips, and he could almost taste the size of this mistake.

Before making contact, someone yelled, “Chloe? Where are you?”

She jumped away from him like he’d expected her to when he suggested a body shot. She licked her lips. “That sounds like my mom. I’ll be back.”

The hell she would. She was playing games and he wanted no part of it. Running as her mom beckoned, no different than a kid being called in for the night.

Instead of returning to the fire, he walked toward his mom’s house. Sitting on the concrete steps, some of which were missing chunks—why hadn’t she asked him to fix this?—he watched the happenings of the end of the party from a safe distance.

He’d grown up with most of the people at the bonfire. Unlike him, they’d kept in touch with each other, returned for the annual party, remained close. He’d turned eighteen and ran. He couldn’t wait to get away from here. The weight of people’s stares was too much for him.

The sympathetic glances, the pitying head shakes, the questioning looks—as if he had answers about what had happened to his father. Between the scrutiny of the neighborhood and the brokenness of his family, he couldn’t stand it, so he’d left. Chloe’s parents and their threats hadn’t helped.

He’d been back periodically over the years, never able to totally stay away. He loved his siblings. And his mom needed him. But he couldn’t be involved with the neighborhood the way some did: going to church as a family (church? The place might burn if he crossed the threshold), family barbecues that included the neighbors (he wasn’t much of a cook), and of course, planning this block party (far too full of memories for him).

The front door behind him opened and he looked over his shoulder. His younger brother, Killian, stepped out.

“Hey, man. Mom said you were here. It’s been a while.”