Hate You Not

He lets out a tortured groan. I wrap him closer to me. I can feel how fast he’s breathing. I think I can hear his heartbeat—or maybe that’s mine.

I laugh. “That was so hot.”

I feel him smile against my shoulder. “No girl’s ever said that to me.”

“No guy’s ever been so hot. You’re hung like a horse.”

He chuckles, and I rub his abs. I feel heady, almost drunk—although I barely drank the wine cooler.

Burke lifts his head, kisses my lips. Then he hugs me up against him.

“Thank you,” he says into to my hair as I hug him back.

“Ditto.” I laugh. I stroke his scruffy cheek. “Hey, Burke baby?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re beautiful. You know that?”

He lifts his head again so he can look at me. He gives me a strange smile, both sad-eyed and happy at the same time. “You’re the one who’s beautiful, June Lawler. I’ve been aching every time I’m near you. Wanting what I shouldn’t have.”

He kisses me again, and it’s a deep, slow, lust-drunk kiss.

My hand moves between his legs—because I can’t not touch him. I’m surprised to find him hard again. With my hand cupping his bulge, I say, “You got a girlfriend, Sly?”

He shakes his head.

“Too busy?”

“Yeah.” He groans as I rub him. I cup his balls—so swollen and heavy, I can almost feel myself creaming for him again.

“I’ve never dated anyone for very long,” he says.

“I don’t since I got cheated on. The high school guy,” I explain, working him with my fist. “He went to college and thought he’d have somebody there and me here, when he came to town.” I rub my thumb under his rim and feel his hips tremble as he sucks a breath back. “That didn’t work out too well.” I find the spot there at the tip of his head—the little slit—and rub it with my fingertip. “His loss, don’t you think?”

He groans in reply. I’m still sitting on the ladder with one leg hooked around a rung. He’s still treading water, and I think he’s getting tired, because he’s shaking slightly. He wraps his arm around my waist, pressing his cheek against my shoulder.

Due to how he’s floating, sort of horizontal, I can still I stroke him. I work him a few times firmly, and he groans, and I can feel his dick throb.

“That’s right, darlin’. I think I could make you come again—what do you think?”

“I want inside you.” Holy Lord, his voice is rough and ragged. His whole body trembles now, like he’s on some drug. I know I’m clever with my hands. I’m good in bed, too. All it takes is paying attention to their sounds and how they move, and you can drive them crazy. I like making it good for the man. At least in theory. In my real life, I don’t have a lot of practice. Less than four hundred people, remember?

“I’ve got some blankets in the tool box of my truck.”

That’s all the nudging he needs. He scoops me up and sort of tosses me over his shoulder. Then we’re moving up the ladder like a caveman and his lady.

“Your friend up?” His words are grunts.

“I think she’s sleeping.”

He sets me on the ground and holds onto me as I slip into my sandals. Then he grabs his shirt, a pair of kicks I can’t see in the low light, and my hand. We’re heading to my truck, across the yard maybe two hundred feet, and he says, “Only if you want it too, June.”

I laugh and tug his hand. “I always want you.”

It’s like jumping off a cliff—this fierce attraction, and admitting it. Off-limits, insensible and reckless. He’s not mine…but I want to pretend, just for this one night. Call it an itch that needs scratching.

I open my truck’s tool box, pull out two blankets, and he turns on his phone’s light. We check the blankets and the bed of the truck. Everything is clean, though. I’m meticulous about my truck. He spreads the blankets out and sheds his wet trunks. My eyes lap at his flawless body. Then I’m sitting and he’s kneeling by me. He starts to peel my swimsuit off.

“You sure?” His mouth curves into a smile; his pale eyes twinkle in the moonlight.

“Only if you make it good,” I tease.

“Oh, you’ll see.” He lays me on my back and moves between my legs. “You’re good with your hands. So am I.”

But it’s not his hands he really works me with. He licks at me until I’m brainless, till I’m thrusting at his face. I feel full and heavy at the same time, achy and empty and needy for him. I pull his hair and wrap my legs around his hips.

“I’m ready now,” I murmur.

“June. Jesus, you’re fucking beautiful.” He rises up on his knees, his dick pressed against my leg before he leans over again to tease my nipples with his tongue and teeth.