I land on my back—possibly rupturing a kidney.
As I breathe through the pain, I hear Jenny slam the window shut above me and I stare at the sky. It’s black as ink and white stars blink down on me—like a million mocking eyes.
I cover my face with my arm. Tonight did not go as planned. That’s been happening a lot lately.
But I realized something crucial. Absolutely life changing.
I am a man in love. Just not a man in love with Jenny Monroe.
My first thought after this realization is: fuck me.
The second is: Drew Evans is going to laugh his ass off.
• • •
I take my time getting back to my parents’ house, trying to process it all. My brother would tell me I should meditate, and for the first time since he went off the deep end, I consider that he could be onto something. Feelings rush through me, too quick to hold on to, like a twig going down a raging river.
I push the door to Sofia’s room open gently, making out her form in the dim moonlight streaming in from the open window. She’s on her side, the luminous skin of her bare back facing me.
Tenderness floods my chest, and a sweet, relieved feeling—like coming home. I force my mind to silence, push out the crazy confusion that’s swirling, stripping down to bare skin. Then I slide into bed, determined to focus on this moment. The simple here and now. Just her.
But before I touch her she turns over, surprising me.
“How’d it go with Jenny?” she asks.
I push damp hair back off her face. “It was . . . enlightening.”
“What do you mean?”
Truthfully? I have no idea. For so long, I thought Jenny Monroe was my endgame. It was a certainty, like the sun rising in the east. To realize that nothing about it is certain, and that I’m actually okay with that, is throwing me for a major goddamn loop.
I wonder if this is how people felt when they discovered the earth wasn’t flat? It’s a shift in perception—in how I view the world—and what my place is supposed to be in it.
My thoughts about Sofia are a whole other level of fucked up. What I feel for her extends further than admiration for her stupendous tits and magnificent intelligence. Deeper. I know that now—I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it. Would she believe me if I told her? Is there any chance she feels the same way?
So I’m not going to do anything. Because when you’re driving a car, if you try and change gears too quick? They’ll grind, screech, possibly cause the transmission to drop out of the bottom of your car.
When in doubt—it’s better to wait it out.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Her face tightens, like she’s going to push the issue, but then she turns onto her back and complains, “It’s so fucking hot—I’m literally melting.” She wipes sweat from her forehead.
I smile. “My grandma used to say Mississippi was closer to God. The downside is when you’re closer to the heavens, you’re nearer the sun—and that’s why it’s always so goddamn hot.”
Sofia chuckles. Then she arches her back and rolls her neck uncomfortably. “I’m never going to be able to sleep.”
That’s when I have the best fucking idea.
“I want to take you somewhere.”
• • •
“Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Completely.” I pull on the handlebars, testing the weight the rope will handle. It creaks like an old house in a storm, but holds. “See?”
We’re at Sunshine Falls, a few miles down from Jenny’s and my spot—where everybody goes swimming. They’re not really waterfalls—more like a three-foot ridge of rock that the water cascades over, cool and clear. But . . . that’s the name. The best part is the line of deep-rooted old trees on the bank, whose branches hang out over the water—making the perfect, most epic swing. This one has old bicycle handlebars tied to the end, instead of just knotted rope, which helps with the grip.
“The only thing you have to remember is to let go.”
She nods with rapt attention. “Let go. Got it.”
“Don’t freeze up and hang on. You’ll swing back and smash into the trunk . . . which will be fucking hilarious, and I’ll never let you live it down. But it will also hurt like a mother. Don’t get nervous.”
“I wasn’t nervous, but now you’re making me nervous.” Sofia shifts from foot to foot, and her awesome breasts shake beneath the triangles of her tiny red bikini.
I lick my lips. It would be so easy to just bend down, suckle on her tasty, peaked nipples through the fabric of her suit. And the things I could do to her with this rope and handlebar . . .
I close my eyes with a groan, a full-out hard-on now aching against the fabric of my trunks. But I ignore it—’cause it’s time to swim. Sofia is hot. So hot.
Swim, swim, fucking swim.
“I’ll go first.” I grip the bars, lift my legs, and swing out over the water in a seamless arch. When I reach the threshold—a second before the rope starts to swing back—I let go, landing feet first in the water after a perfect backflip. I break the surface and sigh with pleasure; the cool water feels amazing against my overheated skin.
Squinting through the darkness, I spot Sofia on the bank. “Come on! It’s beautiful.”
Then, with an earsplitting shriek, she’s swinging out toward me. Just as I shout, “Let go!” she does, and cannonballs into the river.
She comes up laughing, choking just a bit. Her skin is slick and shiny, her wet hair heavy and long.
“Is my top still on?” She checks the strings tied around her neck.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Her face is ecstatic, like a little girl seeing the vast ocean for the very first time. “I’m doing that again!”
• • •
Later, Sofia lies on her back on the bank, her foot stirring through the water. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had,” she sighs.
I watch her from the shallows, ripples lapping around my hips. My voice is hoarse—almost unrecognizable. “I’m thinkin’ of a few better ones right now.”
She lifts her head and meets my eyes. And just like that, her breathing picks up. Her chest rises and falls a little faster. Her pulse throbs in her neck just a little bit ha
rder.
“Come here, Sofia.”
Her gaze doesn’t leave my face as she slides into the water, moving closer. When she’s just an arm’s length away, I take a deep breath. “You said no sex when we got to my home—but I want you so badly, I can taste you.”
She stares at my mouth, debating. And I can’t help but smirk.
It’s the smirk that does her in. Because a second later, she’s pulling me to her, murmuring, “Fuck it.”
“Oh, darlin’, I plan to.”
The moment my lips touch hers, the second my tongue invades the wet heat of her mouth, I’m moaning. It feels like it’s been fucking forever. She grips my bicep, nails digging in, her tongue as eager as my own.
I pull the string on her bikini, releasing soft, lush flesh. In one motion, I wrap her legs around my waist, hoist her higher and lower my head. And my mouth is on her, sucking her already pointed nipple into my mouth, laving with my tongue, lapping at the water on her skin and the taste of her. Christ, I could do just this for hours.
And sensations hit me, blinding and contradictory.
Everything that wasn’t there when I was kissing Jenny. The insane desire, the unexplainable need, wanting to spend hours and days with the woman in my arms, yet never wanting this moment to end. Needing to come so badly my dick throbs painfully, yet wanting to stay buried inside her all night.
I’m totally screwed. But in this second, there’s not a goddamn thing I would change.
Sofia writhes and whimpers in my arms. Her hips rub, gyrate against the planes of my stomach, her hands clasp at my head, pull at my hair.
And I take my time worshipping her gorgeous tits. Keeping one arm around her back, my free hand massages her breast, pinching the nipple until she gasps.
Sofia doesn’t seem to have the same patience as I do.
“Stanton, please,” she begs, her chin rubbing against my hair. “Oh God, I need you to fuck me.”
I trace over the hickeys on her chest with my tongue, then suck, re-marking her. “Not yet.”
She uncurls her legs and slides down my front. My cock aches from the friction and my hips grind forward, searching for more. Then Sofia takes matters into her own hands.
Literally.
I kiss her mouth, nipping her lip with my teeth, when I see her hand dip below the water, into her bathing suit.