The weight of her forehead burns a hole through my chest, and I glance down, drinking in the minimal gap between us. Every inch of us touches. Water swirls, and my legs shake.
“Sounds like a yes,” she says.
My grip strengthens, fingers catching on her threads of hair as I skim them down the length of her back. “I should let go of you.”
The words are low, rough, no intention behind them, and the air simmers, bubbling like seafoam.
It’s a lie wrapped in a truth we’re both avoiding.
She nods against me. “Yes.”
But she sinks deeper. Clutches me harder.
With a mind of its own, my hand glides up the center of her back then down again. Up, down, up, down. Calloused fingertips tease the edge of her tank, dipping underneath the fabric.
The moment has a mind of its own too.
A power. A pull. A pulse.
She shivers, and a little squeak breaks free. Needy, breathless.
Damning.
The air shifts, thrumming with electricity.
I coast my palm along her bare back, dragging it up her spine, until I clamp the nape of her neck beneath the top, inhaling so deep I wonder if she feels it in her lungs. The tank rides up her stomach, revealing a sliver of wet skin, and my other hand drifts down her body, splaying over her abdomen. A broken groan escapes me as I nuzzle my jaw against her cheek, rough stubble over satin. I’m sinking, drowning, teetering on the edge of absolute disaster.
“Chase…” Her body bows, seeking more contact. She’s trembling. Torn in two. Caught between right and wrong, standing still and no turning back.
My heart charges forward, good intentions snakebit by this need to get closer.
I fist a handful of hair and tip her head back until we’re eye to eye, lips impossibly close. “Annie—”
A cell phone starts ringing.
The theme song toStranger Things.
I’m ripped from the fog as I glance across the pool and catch her boyfriend’s name lighting up the face.
A breath.
A clogged, cursed beat.
And then she unravels herself from my arms, as if struck by a fifty-ton weight. Smacked with guilt. Dismantled, toes to top.
Shit.
I stumble back, chest heaving, the water turning viscous around my limbs.
I don’t look at her. I can’t. I refuse.
The ringtone stops, but the silence it leaves behind is deafening. I see the phone still glowing along the side of the pool, Alex’s name lingering like a slap.
My throat chafes. I want to say something, but the words tangle on my tongue and choke me instead.
I’m sorry. So sorry.
I think a part of her hates him.
