Do it, I almost beg, but the bold request dies on my tongue when I hear loud laughter behind me. A boat speeds by, and I instantly shove my skirt down, heat scorching my cheeks.
“Aw, look at that. My good girl is blushing,” he says, which only makes me blush harder.
“Stop calling me that in public,” I chide.
“We’re not in public. We’re alone on our dock, and you almost let me eat you out.”
“Nope,” I insist. “I was just playing around. I never would’ve let you.”
“Liar. You were seconds away from riding my tongue.”
“Fireworks,” I say, jabbing a finger in the air. “Yay or nay?”
He shrugs. “What the hell. Yay.”
Commons Beach hosts a fireworks show every Fourth of July, but although we’ve been coming to Tahoe my whole life, this is only my third time attending. My family doesn’t usually show up till August, so we’re always a month too late. Wyatt and I meet Annaliese and the others an hour before the show so we can procure a good spot on the grassy area directly facing the lake, where the fireworks will be launched from a barge on the water.
We haul our gear to our chosen spot, laying out blankets and setting down a cooler. Annaliese’s brother brought two lawn chairs that he calls dibs on for him and his girlfriend, Shaye. Annaliesebrought a date too, though I use that term loosely. She met the guy on a hookup app only a couple hours ago. They literally met for the first time just now on the grass.
Since alcohol is strictly prohibited on all the county beaches, we’re drinking sodas and nonalcoholic wine coolers. “Also known as fizzy juice,” Eddie scornfully says, then reveals he snuck in some vodka disguised as mineral water. To be honest, I’m not even angry about it. There’s a chill in the air tonight, so I’m grateful as Eddie passes the bottle around and we all take secretive sips to warm up.
Wyatt and I brought an extra blanket, and I nestle beside him as he spreads the thick fleece over our laps. He tucks it at my side, his expression earnest as he murmurs, “You warm enough?”
I don’t miss Annaliese’s very obvious smirk, but damned if his fussing doesn’t make my heart swell. God. Never in my life would I have thought I’d be snuggled under a blanket watching fireworks with Wyatt Graham.
Does he see this as a date? We have our rules, but none of them addressed whether the things we do together out of bed are considered dates. He’d probably insist they’re not. That tonight’s outing isn’t a romantic one. Just two lifelong friends watching the dazzling display lighting up the world. Nope, not romantic at all.
The first rocket streaks into the night sky, vanishing for a heartbeat before bursting into a canopy of color that shimmers across the lake.
“Oh my God,” Annaliese breathes.
It’s stunning. Red, green, and gold sparks rain down in majestic arcs, while their reflections on the water’s surface create a mesmerizing mirror effect. Two explosions of color happening at the same time, sky and water. The other groups scattered around us are all our age or older, yet everyone oohs and aahs and gasps and screams like a bunch of excited kids. Each boom and crack of fireworks echoes offthe surrounding mountains, and the entire sky feels alive with layers of glittery bursts and crackling light trails.
“Come closer,” Wyatt says. “You’re too far away.”
I’m really not. Our shoulders are plastered together. But I love that he can’t seem to get close enough whenever we’re together. And he always needs to be touching me. I smile when he tugs my body and positions me in front of him so that my back is resting on his chest. Strong arms encircle me, his face nuzzling my neck.
“Freckles,” he whispers.
I tilt my head to meet his eyes, then sort of regret it because all I find is pure lust reflected back at me.
He brings his lips back to my ear. “I’m horny.”
I tamp down a laugh. “Do you want to leave?” I whisper back.
Wyatt shakes his head, a filthy gleam sparkling in his eyes. The next thing I know, his hand is traveling beneath the blanket.
My breath hitches when I feel his fingertips teasing my waistband. The skirt is light and filmy, the elastic stretching easily to allow him to slip his hand inside my underwear. The moment he makes contact with bare skin, a rush of moisture pools between my legs.
I glance around to check if anybody notices what he’s doing, but I’m fairly confident it just looks like we’re bundled up under a blanket with his arms around me. A few feet away, Annaliese and her date are paying us no attention, their eyes focused on the sky.
When he massages my clit with the pad of one finger, a shiver skitters through my body.
His lips tickle my ear again. “You’re shaking. Does that feel good?”
“Mm-hmm.” I force myself to stare straight ahead. To pretend that the ministrations of his fingers aren’t turning me into a puddle of aroused mush.
He starts toying with me in earnest, his finger moving up and down, dipping inside my slit. He makes a low noise when he discovers how wet I am.
