Our eyes lock across the room. There’s something between us, something that I fight so damn hard, but here in this old lighthouse, with the thunder cracking in the sky and the streaks of lightning from the thin gaps in the slats, it’s impossible to deny.
Her throat dips as she swallows. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I say gruffly.
“Why won’t you have sex with me?”
I blink. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Because I don’t think it’s about me being your muse,” she continues. “So…why?”
“I just think…” I hesitate. “If we do that, there’s no turning back.”
“Turning back from what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
I don’t answer.
“This is ending when the summer is over,” she says softly. “I haven’t forgotten that rule.”
I want to believe her, but I’ve had women say that to me before, insisting they were okay with their temporary status. I always make it clear they’re on borrowed time with me, which makes me sound like a total fuckboy prick, but at least I’m honest. I’m not built for long-term entanglements. Eventually, I’ll be drawn elsewhere. To another place, another woman, another song.
Blake fixes those blue eyes on me with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. But she doesn’t speak.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“You don’t want to know.”
“No, tell me.”
“I was just thinking it would be a real shame if I never got to feel you inside me.”
Jesus Christ.
I choke back a groan. But looking at her right now, I share that sentiment entirely. She’s a sight to behold. Her hair in that messy braid, dark strands falling onto her face. Perky breasts hugged by that tight tank top. Long legs emerging from those indecent denim shorts. She’s so beautiful it almost hurts to look at her.
“Yes,” I say, my voice hoarse. “It would be.”
Our eyes meet again.
“Take your pants off,” she says.
This time, the groan slips out. I’m always the one bossing her around, and my dick twitches at her commanding tone. He likes it.
“If I do that, there’s no going back,” I warn.
“I don’t want to go back. Back is boring. I want the here and now.”
I’m usually a lot smoother than this, but my fingers are shaking as I undo the button of my pants.
“Zipper,” she prompts.
I drag the zipper down.
“Take it out.”
