Boyfriend for the Summer

“Really? Why?”

He shrugs, and gives me a carefree smile that I don’t think is the whole truth. “You know how it is. It’s been a hard couple of years.”

We’re silent for a moment, and this feels a little like it used to. Cicadas sing and the noise of the campers travel to us from the distance. The cold of the soda is good, in the heat—burning even though we’re in the shade.

“I miss this,” Eric says. “Days like this.”

“What do you mean?” I suspect that I already know, but I want to hear him put a voice to it.

“I mean when life was simpler and easier. When there were less things to worry about.”

“Are things that bad?” I ask, studying him.

He turns his body fully toward mine and takes a step closer. “Not right now,” he says softly. “Not with you.”

I can’t say anything, because I’m struggling to breathe. Taking a sip of coke, I pretend that he isn’t affecting me at all. It doesn’t work.

“Seph,” he says, using my nickname even though I told him not to. I can’t imagine him using anything else in this moment. “I’ve never forgotten that summer, you know.”

“Oh?” I look away, and he guides my gaze back to his with a brush of fingers on my cheek.

“It was the best summer of my life.”

My stomach does a flip. His eyes burn into mine, the blue of heat and flame. Using his thumb, he brushes a drop of the soda from my lower lip. A barely there touch that has me shaking, resisting the urge to lean into him. His gaze drops to my lips, and he sucks in a breath.

And then he’s kissing me, and I’m letting him. God, it feels so good to remember how this feels. He pulls back, searching my eyes, looking for me to say no. I can’t.

As many times as Eric Elmore wants to kiss me, I’m going to let him. And he leans in to kiss me again. Harder this time.

8

Eric

Present

The second my lips meet Seph’s the second time, all bets are off. My can of coke is on the ground and I’ll scold myself for littering later. Right now there’s no time, because if I don’t get this woman naked and underneath me I’m going to spontaneously combust. And Seph is right there with me. Her arms twine around my neck and I haul her closer to me, dragging her to the door to my cabin while at the same time unwilling to let go of her or take my lips off hers.

I need to get her inside, or I’m going to fuck her against the wall, and I can’t have the campers seeing that. Somehow, I manage to pull open the door and get us through it, and I slam it closed and press her up against the door, flicking the lock. Seph’s body feels so good against mine. Like the answer to a question that I’ve been asking for years.

It’s crazy how familiar it feels, even though it’s been years. My own body has never forgotten. I groan against her lips, and her fingers claw into my shoulders. We’re trying to consume each other. I press her harder into the door, letting her feel how hard she makes me. And savoring that softness of her that I felt earlier when I pulled her out of the water. Finally giving in fully to that animal attraction that roared yesterday just at the sight of her.

This is all brutally familiar. Just like that first summer when we couldn’t get enough of each other. It’s like as soon as I saw her all of that came rushing back with a force that I couldn’t contain. And I love the way that she’s clinging to me, but I have to be sure.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes,” she breathes.

It’s more of a moan and I’m so hard that I can barely force more words out. “Are you sure?”

“We shouldn’t,” she says, pulling my mouth to hers again. Everything is white fire. “But we—I have to.”

That’s all I need to hear. We’ll talk about why she’s so dead set against this later. In this moment it doesn’t seem important. Nothing is as important as the feel and the taste of her. I need to have everything. I need that memory that I already have of her to be layered with new ones of her skin.

My hands find the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head and tossing it aside. It leaves her hair a mess in its wake, and I’m enamored of that crazy halo of red. I have a déjà vu seeing that red hair spread out before me, wanton and tempting. Jesus.

Seph’s hands are on me, exploring my chest and my arms, roaming over the shirt that’s still damp from the lake. I strip it over my head because I want her to touch me. I pull back just far enough to see her. To look at her and encourage her to look and touch and taste. I’m glad that I’ve been working out. Every ounce of soreness that I’ve dragged from my body is worth it to see the way her eyes devour me. Deep, feral satisfaction fills my veins. That’s how I want my woman to look at me. And Seph is my woman.