The Two Week Stand (Sizzling Beach 1)

I honestly have no fucking clue what to do with that knowledge.

“West?”

“Hmm?”

She lifts her head, pushing her hair back from her face. She rests her elbow on my shoulder and puts her chin in her hand. I’m reminded of the first night I met her, when she put her elbow on the bar and missed placing her chin on her hand. The memory makes me chuckle.

“What?” She gives me a curious look.

“Nothing. What were you gonna say?”

“Well, I was just thinking … what if someone is watching us via one of those satellites up there? You know, the ones that governments have up there.”

Laughter rumbles through my chest. Pretty sure we’d be safe even if they were. “We both just came like motherfuckers, and that’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

She giggles. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

I tease her, but I like the way her mind works.

I press a kiss to her jaw. “Relax. No one saw us.”

“Okay.” She lets out a soft sigh.

And then I count down in my head.

Three …

Two …

One …

“But just to answer my question, hypothetically, do you think it’s possible?”

I laugh because it’s funny. She’s funny. But it’s also scary how fucking well I already know her.

“Double D, I think that if there were a remote possibility that government satellites were trained on this exact spot at this very moment in time, then I’d say whoever was watching got one hell of a show.”

“True. And it’s not like it’s gonna end up on some porn website. Although it is illegal to have sex in public. But I don’t know if us being here constitutes as public because there’s only you and me—”

“Dillon.”

“What?”

I kiss her. Not to shut her up. But because I have to. Because, fuck … I like her.

Really like her.

She’s different. Dillon is the realest person I’ve ever met.

And I’ve just realized that I might not be ready to let her go just yet. I might not do forever. But I could do a little longer with her.

Now, I just need to figure out how to make that happen. Or if it’s even actually a good idea.

Because if I ask her to come back to the real world with me, even for a short time, then I’m gonna have to tell her who I actually am. Or more to the point, who my father is.

twenty-one

Dillon

“Cheers.” I chink my beer bottle against West’s before taking a drink.

It’s our second to last night here, and we’re sitting out on the jetty, watching the sun descend below the horizon. The sky is a gorgeous hue of pinks and blues.

I move my feet around in the warm water, watching it swirl around my legs.

I’m trying not to get sad that my time with West is fast coming to an end. I don’t want to waste the couple of days that I have left with him feeling sad, so I’m trying my best to remain upbeat.

“Can you believe our time here is almost over? It’s flown by.”

“I know. I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun fucking.”

“Pretty sure that’s not the saying.”

“No? It should be though.”

“Tomorrow is our last full day before we fly home.”

West leaves just before me. His flight is in the morning. Mine in the afternoon.

“What should we do?”

“Fuck.” He grins at me, lifting his brows.

“I never would’ve guessed you’d say that.”

“I like to mix things up. Stay unpredictable.”

Laughing softly, I stare at his profile. “If I forget to say this tomorrow, thanks for making my honeymoon memorable.”

He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, a grin touching his lips. “You’re welcome.”

A fish swims toward us. I lift my feet out of the water, and West chuckles.

“It won’t eat you, you know.”

“I know. I just don’t want it touching my feet. Fish feel weird.” I lower my feet back into the water when the coast is clear. “I wonder if fish think that we feel weird,” I muse, putting my bottle to my lips.

“I don’t think fish think at all.”

“They have brains, right?”

“Yeah. But animals are programmed to think about two things—food and sex.”

“Just like you.” I laugh. “And also me. Actually, you’re more of the sex thinker, and I’m the food thinker.”

“And that’s why we make the perfect team.”

My heart swoops and dives. He doesn’t mean it that way. Stop getting carried away.

West has a swig of his beer, and I stare down at his feet in the water next to mine. So much bigger than my size fives.

“What shoe size do you take? Your feet are massive.”

“And you’re just realizing this now?”

“Yep. So, what size are you?”

“I’m a fourteen.”

“Are your sizes the same as my sizes?”

“What? Are we just making sizes up now?”

“No, your country and my country have different sizes. Well, I think they do. I’ve seen it on labels when I bought clothes before. UK and US sizing—also European, but that’s not relevant here.”