I follow her, and we step inside an outdoor shower. It’s a wooden enclosure with slats that let in strips of sunlight. It’s taller than me, and it hides us completely. A showerhead hangs from a copper pipe, and the walls are weathered from years of being on the coast. Sand covers the stone floor.
Wendy turns the handle, and cold water pours down. She steps under and closes her eyes, tipping her head back. The water runs over her surfer top and down her bare legs, and she pushes her braid behind her shoulder.
“Don’t be shy,” she says.
I take a step forward, the cold hitting my chest. The space is barely big enough for the two of us, so we touch. Wendy’s eyes open, and she looks at me.
“You have sand on your face.” She reaches up and brushes her thumb across my cheekbone. Her fingers are cold and pruned from the ocean. Her palm rests against the stubble on my face.
I turn my head, pressing my mouth to her wrist. She inhales, and her pulse beats fast against my lips.
“Carter,” she whispers.
“Yeah?”
I wrap my arm around her waist. Right now, I don’t want to be anywhere else in the fucking world. Our mouths slide together, and her fingers thread through my wet hair. Every place where our bodies touch is hot.
I step forward, pressing her back against the wall. My hand finds the bare skin at her hip, and I loop my finger in her bikini tie. She makes a sound against my mouth, and I lose my train of thought completely.
Her leg hooks around me, and I press my hardness into her. There’s only a thin piece of material between us. She bites at my bottom lip, and the noise I make isn’t voluntary. We’re breathing hard, and neither of us stops. I pull back just enough to see herface. Her lips are swollen, and her lashes are wet and clumped together. Her chest rises against mine with every breath.
“My answer is yes,” I tell her.
Her eyes search my face. “To the fling?”
“For the summer. Your rules. August 3. But you’re mine, Wendy Winslow. If we do this, I won’t share.”
She swallows hard. Her hand is still in my hair, and her fingers tighten once, then loosen. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
She stares at me as the water runs down between us. My body aches for her as she runs her palm over my cock. This time, when our lips meet, it’s slower, too intense. I groan against her, and that’s when she pulls back.
“I need to think about it.” She smirks.
I’m rock fucking hard—there’s no denying that. I lean forward, whispering in her ear, “You’re cruel.”
“Playing by your rules.” She moves toward the shower door. She grabs a towel off the hook and wraps it around her waist without rushing. “Today was fun.”
I lean against the wall, knowing she’s playing games. “Tease.”
“Giving you a taste of your own medicine for once.” She opens the gate, and the sunlight floods in. She turns back, and her eyes drop to my mouth for half a second before meeting mine again. “I’ll let you know.”
The gate swings shut behind her.
She played me, leaving me here hard and aching for her. I’m too fucking old for blue balls. But the worst part is, I’d do it all over again.
chapter twelve
Wendy
Hours later, I can’t stop tossing and turning. The window is cracked, and the ocean pushes air through the screen, but it’s not cooling me down. I’ve been lying here for two hours, and sleep won’t come. Instead, I keep thinking about how he looked at me when I left him in the shower—hard and wanting. It’s a type of control I’ve never had.
I roll onto my stomach and press my face into my pillow. I keep rubbing the spot on my wrist, like I can erase the sensation of him kissing it, but my body won’t let go of the memory.
Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that shower. Carter was one little tug away from removing my bikini bottom, and I wanted him to.
I flip onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
