Keep (Seaside Pictures 2)

Fallon shivered and scooted toward me. “Your eyes aren’t closed.”

“Sorry,” I said, voice gruff. Then I lowered my hand and closed my eyes. “Please tell me you don’t have some sort of weapon, and this is your sick way of seeking fame by killing me on the beach. Aroused.”

“Huh?”

“I’m talking about sex with a cute girl. Of course I’m into that.” My eyes were still closed, but I could hear her sharp intake of breath like I’d surprised her. Hell, I’d surprised myself! I had no business telling her she was cute. What the hell was I doing?

“So um, think about a time you’ve been with a girl.”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have any.”

She growled. “This isn’t going to work if you refuse to participate.”

“Four eyes…”

“Seriously, Zane! The song has a great tempo, I really like it. It has the potential to be like the love song of the summer, only hotter, but you have to make it sensual, not sexual.”

“I’m listening.”

“Okay, so think about a girl you’ve been with and—”

“No,” I interrupted. “How about you tell me about a time you’ve been with a guy. There has been a time, right?” I was going to hell. Basically making her feel bad about her lack of sexual experience and—

“Only two.”

The hell? I tried to keep myself composed, but seriously. Did she just say two? My little four eyes and two douche bags? I had a sudden need to find both dudes and strangle them, or publically shame them, run them over with my truck, drown them in the ocean and—

“You’re squeezing my hand a bit hard, Zane.” Fallon said in a strained voice.

I quickly released her hand. “Sorry, I was just…thinking.”

“About me and other guys?” She laughed.

It wasn’t funny.

“So, these two pricks…” I started. “High school pricks, they taught you romance?”

“Not romance!” She huffed. “You aren’t listening. But even with guys who have no experience…”

I flinched unintentionally.

She didn’t seem to notice. “…they still touch you. It’s not just about parts joining—oh no, I just said parts and joining in the same sentence. This is literally worse than my sixth-grade health class when my teacher forced me to name the male reproductive system.” She hung her head.

I wrapped my arm around her and sighed. “How about I rescue you from yourself?”

“Finally. Now you decide to be heroic?” Her big eyes blinked up at me, and I fought an internal struggle to press my lips to her face, to comfort her, or maybe just kiss some of her embarrassment away, to see if she tasted as hot as her cheeks looked.

I shuddered and broke eye contact. “Eh, I’m more the anti-hero, I think.”

She leaned into me, we were touching, and then things clicked not because I was touching her, but because I wanted to touch her more, because even if all she did was let me press my skin against hers—I would be okay with it. Sure, I wanted more skin, more kissing, more exploring, but in a weird twist of fate, I just wanted whatever she’d offer, and even if it was the smallest kiss, I wanted to make it the best kiss of her existence.

“I think,” I drew a slow circle on her arm, my finger barely grazing her skin. “What you’re trying quite horribly to explain is that you want the song to be more anticipation, less action.”

“Y-yes.” She shivered. I hoped it was from my proximity, not the cold. “That.”

My fingers slowly moved up her arm until I brushed the hair back from her neck. Then I leaned over and placed a kiss against her pulse. “And…the song should be about exploration, more your body is a wonderland and less I wanna lick, lick, lick you from your head to your toe and I wanna move from the bed down to the down the floor, and I wanna, ah ah, you make it so good I don’t wanna leave, but I gotta know what’s your fantasy?”

Her mouth dropped open. I shut it with my pinkie finger.

With a shudder, she pulled away and looked down at her frayed jeans, torn a bit at the knee. “Yes, um, that.”

“So, two guys huh?” I said leaning back on my hands, changing the subject out of pure necessity since I’d almost kissed her at least a dozen times in the past minute.

Her smile was like a shot to the chest, and it was directed at me. “Two guys, hardly a harem.”

“Naturally. Since harems are typically filled with women.”

“Ha ha.” She shoved my chest.

“And how were these two guys? And before you tell me, note that I’m already imagining they have really bad teen acne and braces, so spare no detail if I’m right.”

Fallon burst out laughing. “Is that all you think I can get? Bad teen acne and braces?”

“No.” I said softly, and I meant it. I scooted closer to her. “I’m just hoping I’m the only guy that’s ever kissed you that way, touched you, elicited those nice little pants you always give off every time I’m close.”

She turned away her cheeks flushing again. “Well, one was on the football team. Linebacker, more muscle than brains but actually really sweet. We were friends, went to Homecoming together—”

“Where he was crowned king?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not that stereotypical, and no I didn’t lose my virginity on prom night.”