“That was your power move?”
“That was my power move.”
“Mm. I think it’s working.”
Humour skims the moment, but it only charges the pull, the air crackling as sparks leap between us.
“I’m sorry I ever pushed you away,” he says, the words quiet and sincere. “I was a classic fool.”
“You weren’t!”
“I was,” he insists, “or I would’ve kissed you far sooner.”
My heart beats wildly against my ribs as he leans in.
“Brandon,” I begin in an unfinished plea.
The name hasn’t even left my lips before he closes the distance, his mouth meeting mine with certainty.
He’s neither tentative nor cautious. He’s deliberate, his mouth claimingmine in a slow, devastating slide. I gasp and kiss him back, matching him, giving in to the pull I’ve fought for far too long. He deepens the kiss, lips firm and warm, and the world fades away until it’s just us.
Longing surges, shocking and irresistible as I melt into him, clutching his shirt as if I’ll fall apart otherwise.
Another shallow wave engulfs our feet, the tide coming in, but I hardly notice it as I press closer, needing him, my fingers sliding up his chest to the pale skin exposed at his collar.
His hand finds my jaw, his long fingers sure, angling my mouth closer. Then he tilts my head back, and he ducks to press his mouth to my throat, trailing searing kisses along sensitive skin. My knees nearly buckle, desire racing in my veins, my skin feverish with hot and cold as everything narrows to the feel of him. A secret thrill sweeps through me when I feel the sudden, unmistakable hardening of him against me. I press closer, craving more, and he lets out a low, helpless groan.
My mind blanks, overwhelmed by the rightness of it. Of our bodies aligned and fitting together, his tall frame encompassing me, the stars blinking overhead.
My casted foot sinks deeper.
“Wait—” I gasp, laughing into his mouth, but the next wave seeps through the plastic to my toes.
I lurch sideways, losing my balance as I grab onto Brandon in a panic. Suddenly, we’re stumbling, tangling, laughing as we topple into the water.
Pebbles press into my back, cold water soaking my clothes and drenching my hair, gasping in shock, Brandon laughing beside me.
I start to sit up, but he slides an arm beneath my neck, guiding me down into the water, his body following mine, weight lowering, his chest against mine as he captures my mouth.
The contrast hits me—icy water at my back, his heat—and it’s incredible.
I kiss him back, dizzy, my fingers trailing his back, skimming his soaked shirt where the fabric clings to muscle.
“Lily,” he murmurs against my lips.
I love the way he says my name. It’s ridiculous how easily his smooth, velvety voice undoes every coherent thought I have, rumbling in my ears and waking my senses.
His mouth returns to mine, deeper this time, like he’s finally letting goof whatever he’s been holding back. The drag of wet clothes, the press of shingles beneath my back, his frame settling over me more surely, strength and solidity pressed close—it’s too much and not enough all at once. A tremor of longing rushes through me, fierce and aching, as if every nerve has been waiting for this exact moment.
Then another wave rushes over us, damp between my toes.
“Oh no.” I jerk upright. “My cast just filled with water.”
Brandon rises in one smooth motion and pulls me up with him, lifting me effortlessly. We’re both breathing hard, lips swollen, hair dripping.
“Looks like the wrapping tore on the pebbles,” he says, his tone still husky. “Come on—let me carry you.”
My foot is sore from walking, and I don’t protest when Brandon crouches and lets me climb onto his back. His hands steady my legs; mine settle instinctively on his shoulders.
