“They’d also say sleeping with me is just as addictive as chocolate.” I give a wry smile because I’m starting to feel like an ass while marketing my dick. “Anyway, back to the letters. I want to read them with you if you’ll have me. I mean that.”
Reese sags into me. Her head curves downward over my chest. “I’m sure soon enough you’ll be with someone special, and she won’t want you hanging around me while I read my dead mother’s birthday cards.”
“Doesn’t matter, I’ll be there. There’s not a person on the planet who could stop me.”
“Not even your special someone?” She bows her head, and I gently run my fingers over the back of her neck.
“You’re my special someone, Reese.” I freeze. My fingers forget how to move for the next few seconds, and all I hear is the crackle from the fire.
“Sure, for the summer.” She taps her shoulders, and I continue with the massage. “But come fall, you won’t be on the market long. You’re one of a kind.”
I lean in close to her ear. “So are you.”
Reese spins into me and scratches at my chest. “I guess that makes ustwoof a kind.”
“That’s the best pair.”
Reese gives a slight nod as the mood grows all too serious.
I bow into her with a kiss, and our lips meet as her hungry mouth devours mine. Reese and I share kisses that span the better half of the night. We crawl into the tent and pick out a movie, but we don’t watch it. Instead, we fuse our lips together until sunrise.
Reese is my addiction.
Always has been.
Always will be.
Spitters are Quitters
Reese
The next afternoon, the hard line of the sun streams in from the driver’s side window as Kennedy and Brylee steal me away for a girls’ day. I tell them all about the dreamy date I had with Ace last night and get lost in the whir of scenery as Kennedy races us down the mountain for our mandated spa day. Ace let me know he had some things to take care of today but asked if we could reenact our camping adventure later tonight, so, of course, I said yes.
I pluck my phone out of my purse to text him something obnoxiously cute to remember me by likemy tent or yours?orI can’t wait to have S’more fun with you!but my battery is dead. Perfect. I toss it back in the black hole of my bag and note my wallet is missing. Crap. I must have forgotten to transfer it from my backpack. I’m terrible about that. It’s precisely why I never switch purses. I’ve had to walk away from many a latte at the coffee counter because I happen to travel without any cold, hard cash, or in my case, cold hard plastic in my pockets.
A car honks as we narrowly avoid a head-on collision, inspiring Brylee to take over the wheel from the backseat, righting us into the proper lane.
“Pay attention fucktard,” she snaps at Kennedy. “A facial won’t be necessary after you launch our heads through the windshield. Chill out or pull over, and let me drive.”
“Keith and I broke up last night.” Kennedy growls into the road as if it were Keith himself. Her expression dims, she looks hollow as a porcelain doll without a soul—not that she’s wicked or evil. “I should eviscerate him in his sleep.”
There goes that theory.
“What happened?” I’m not too stunned by the update on her rocky relationship. They seem to part ways regularly just to keep things interesting, but I hold back the commentary in the event this is panning out to be the real deal.
“Joanna Knickerbocker happened.”
Brylee groans. “Joanna Knickerbocker always happens.”
Joanna helped facilitate the break up of Brylee and her then boyfriend, Ryan Johnson. I believe a hammock and a couple of blunts were involved.
“Charlie texted me a picture of him doing body shots off her stomach.” Kennedy looks like she might be sick. “So I sent it to Keith, and he texted back, suggesting Ideal with it.”
I suck in a breath. “What’d you say?” I know for a fact how Kennedy “deals” with things. Kennedy knows how to skirt a felony with the best of them. Keith is lucky if he still has his man parts attached. And, if he does, he should cherish them because it won’t be long now.
“I told him it was fine.” A wicked grin plays on her lips. “After all, he explained that he and Joanna go way back, that they’re justfriends.”
“Body shots with friends?” Brylee is unimpressed. “You should’ve told him that Joanna is friendly with alotof people—that she practically invented the fine art of skiing.”
