Kiss My Putt (Summersweet Island 1)
“Stop fucking calling me Putz. I thought we were past that now.”
Hot breath, small growl. Cue the goose bumps, clench the thighs, and hold on tight to the damn bricks behind you. What in the holy hell is happening right now?
“What… what are you doing?” I whisper, feeling him nuzzle his nose against that sensitive spot right below my earlobe, making me let out a small whimper and rub my thighs together.
Everything is hot and aching… my breasts, my skin…. My clit is pulsing, my fingers digging into the bricks where I keep my hands plastered down by my sides, wishing I could grab the back of his head and make his lips, which still hover by my ear, latch onto the side of my neck, and slide my fingers between my thighs with the other, gathering all the wetness he’s created to rub away the pulsing ache in my clit until I come, screaming his name. Holy shit, he needs to move away.
He repeats what he did in the bar earlier, sliding his cheek against mine as he pulls his head back until he’s looking down at me again, and I can see a muscle tic in his jaw.
“What I’m doing is absolutely nothing until you’re sober and remember every sweet goddamn second of it.”
All the air in my lungs leaves me with a whoosh as Palmer immediately pushes off the wall and steps away from me. He takes all that heat and delicious smell right along with him and leaves a whole shit-ton of what the fuck and wet panties behind.
“I can trust you three will not be driving your golf carts home, correct?”
I want to roll my eyes and tell him we’re drunk but we’re not stupid, but all I can do is nod.
“And if you happen to find yourselves in the middle of Summersweet Pond and have no idea where your clothing went, let your mother sleep and call me instead,” he adds, starting to walk away.
He’s a few steps past me when I finally remember how to use my voice.
“You blocked me, remember?”
He pauses, looking back at me.
“Yeah, well now I unblocked you.”
My flustered, confused, and turned-on body is still completely flattened against the brick wall of the Dip and Twist as he turns and heads back over to the picnic table area, where I realize Tess and Wren are still laughing like idiots.
When he disappears around the corner, my knees finally give out and I slide down the wall until my butt hits the cement, curling my legs up against my chest and wrapping my arms around them.
“Birdie!” Wren shouts, coming around the corner a few minutes later. “Call Mom! I can’t find our bikes, and we need a ride home!”CHAPTER 12Palmer
“Put it in the hole.”“How am I supposed to woo Tess on our date later with a food baby? I regret everything,” Bodhi moans, rubbing his stomach.
I chuckle, kicking my feet up on the railing in front of us, crossing them at the ankles, and taking a drink of my icy cold bottled beer. “Just because Eddy’s has all-you-can-eat crab legs doesn’t mean you should actually eat all that you can,” I remind him, flipping the brim of my hat around to the back so I can fully enjoy the sun setting out over the ocean.
After I finished work today, Bodhi met me at Dockside Eddy’s for dinner. Located on one of the permanent resident ends of Summersweet Island, Eddy’s is surrounded by cottages and not too far from the school, hospital, and other island facilities. It sits right on the boat dock for residents, and even though they won’t kick any tourists out if they stumble this far away from town, it’s pretty much known as a place just for local residents to relax and unwind far away from strangers.
“You can’t just tempt me with a good time like all-you-can-eat crab legs and expect me not to party,” he says, rocking his chair back on two legs. “The hot crab dip, ultimate nachos, mussels, clams, oyster Po Boy, and fish tacos might have been overkill though.”
Dockside Eddy’s is one of the best fresh seafood and oyster bars I’ve ever been to, and I’ve been in seafood restaurants all over the world. The best thing about it is it’s low-key and rustic with nautical artifacts hung all over the mismatched clapboard walls inside and a huge covered deck with a few ceiling fans running along the whole backside that looks out over the ocean. The building looks like it’s taken the brunt of every hurricane that has ever passed through here, and the entire thing leans a little to the left, but it’s relaxed, and comfortable. Jimmy Buffett is usually playing softly from the sound system, and it’s the best place to unwind at the end of the day and catch up on the local gossip. A few feet away at another table, there’s even a man I recognize who works on the ferry, finishing his crab cake dinner with his sad-eyed Basset Hound sitting by the legs of his chair next to a bowl of water the waitress brought out for the panting dog a few minutes ago.