Sink or Swim (Beach Kingdom 3)

When Jiya woke up that morning, she’d known nothing. Nothing about men and women and lust and sex. She would have decreed any form of objectification a bad thing, but she was in heaven at that moment, as a possession. As the creator of his sexual urges. It was like being baptized and reborn and she’d laugh at herself later for making that comparison considering she had come dripping off her nipples, but right now, she wasn’t laughing. No way. She’d just been drop kicked onto a new planet and gravity was missing.

Andrew dropped down on the sand beside her. He hung his head for a moment, his ribcage expanding and contracting, then he reached over and pulled Jiya into his lap. Going to him was so natural, her throat started to hurt. She’d been horribly short-sighted agreeing to make this a one-time thing. What had she been thinking? She was just supposed to live her whole life now, pretending he hadn’t conducted her thoughts and physicality like a maestro for the last twenty minutes? She was supposed to pretend like she didn’t want it to happen again?

And again.

Andrew used one side of his torn shirt to wipe away the fluid on her cleavage. Then he stroked a hand over her hair. “I shouldn’t have let that happen. I know it’s only going to make things harder, but I’ll never regret it.”

Everyone was too drunk or preoccupied to notice Andrew returned to the party shirtless, his ripped button-down left tied to the stairs of the lifeguard chair, like a mile marker. Wordlessly, Jiya helped everyone call their Ubers, her and Andrew using handfuls of sand to extinguish the flames of the bonfire, before throwing empty bottles into trash bags and lugging them to the dumpsters adjacent to the boardwalk.

Jiya was somehow both exhilarated and numb. Several times, she caught Andrew watching her with undiluted intensity from the corner of her eye, but the ease between them wasn’t just missing, they’d set it on fire. Would they ever get it back now?

Or had they sacrificed their friendship on the altar of pleasure?

It didn’t take long for Jiya to get pissed. Even though it wasn’t fair, even though he’d been upfront that he couldn’t offer her more, she wanted to punch him in the nose and demand to know why. Why was he standing by while she dated other people? How could he let her get away when they meant so much to each other—and had attraction to boot? If he didn’t love her as more than a friend now…wasn’t there a possibility he might start to love her in the future?

They had friendship. Sexual chemistry. That was way more than so many people had.

To top it off, she needed him to touch her again. Now. She wanted to be back in his arms and she wanted to stay there all night. Maybe forever. And she wasn’t sure how much longer she could be around him without demanding he put his hands on her. He’d comply, however, because he couldn’t say no to her, which made it wrong to ask again.

When they’d tossed the bags of garbage into the dumpsters, she could sense Andrew searching for the right words to say to her. But she didn’t want to hear them, so she jogged ahead and caught up with one of the departing groups of guests, sliding into the cab after a winded request to sneak a ride home. A quick glance through the window told her Andrew was trying to catch up to her, calling her name, but she ignored him out of self-preservation and rattled off her address to the driver, only exhaling when the car started to move and she was free.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Today was Wednesday.

Andrew hadn’t seen Jiya since Saturday night and every hour that passed without her, a little more color drained out of the universe until it was a dull steel gray.

God, he’d righteously fucked up.

He should never have gone on that walk.

When they’d set off down the beach, he’d already been weak for her. Two days around her looking brighter and more brilliant than the sun and he’d been close to cracking. They usually only stole an hour here and there, at their windows at night or breakfast in the morning. But they’d had almost a full two days to be close, to talk, to smile at each other across the room, brush arms. Taking her on that walk had been a dangerous gamble.

He might have brought her back to the bonfire untouched if she didn’t slip off the goddamn chair. If she hadn’t shaved a decade off his life with the possibility that she might hit her head or break an ankle on his watch. Fuck, he could still feel his heart launching up into his throat. Even though he’d caught her in his arms, his pulse still skipped every time he replayed the scene. Jiya falling. Falling to the earth.