Her lips ghost against mine for the briefest of seconds. I run my tongue along my bottom lip, tasting her.
“I’d question why they’re staying,” I say with a self-conscious laugh.
“Oh, Zander,” Gran says and I jump, too in the moment to remember she was also part of the conversation. Gran laughs as she collects the two empty cups from the table. She leaves my full one as she gets up to return to the kitchen. “Accept the girl likes you and get over yourself. I’ll get out of your way so you can better have this conversation. It was nice to see you again, Adelaide.”
“You too, Peggy. Always nice to chat about crochet patterns and this boy.”
Addie pulls me from the couch, through the front foyer, and onto my grandmother’s front porch. Lucy bounds after us, barking when Addie shoves me barefooted into a surprise rain shower.
“Get out of your head, Browning,” Addie yells as water pelts me. My clothes soak instantly, hair glues to my forehead. “Dance.”
“I’m not going to dance.”
“You are absolutely going to dance,” she says and runs into the storm. She takes my slick hands and starts jumping. “Dance with me!”
“This isn’t dancing!”
“Then show me!”
I pull her to me. She slips on the driveway and I scramble to catch her, allowing her to crash against me. Her breasts press against my chest. Our drenched shirts stick together. I think about keeping her there, about wet tank tops and her pebbled nipples. She breathes heavily while regaining her balance, which really doesn’t help my visualization situation, especially with so much cleavage this close to my face. My hands find her waist, making sure she can’t go anywhere.
Guess I’ve made my decision.
A water droplet runs along the bridge of her nose. Too tempted by this glorious woman, I wind up licking the button of her nose as the droplet slips off. She giggles.
“This isn’t dancing, either,” she says.
“Maybe not,” I say, then on a whim, support her back and dip her low. Her long mane of hair nearly touches the ground. “Better?”
“Much better, thank you.” Addie leans in to bridge the gap between us.
Our lips crash together. It’s a meeting of rainwater and tea andher. I feel intoxicated for the first time in over ten years.My heart pumps loud in my ears and the ever-present drone of worry and anxiety and what-ifs suddenly melt away as her lips frantically move against mine.
Her hands tangle in my hair, grabbing hold and pulling. I find myself attempting to get closer to her, inching my fingers beneath the hem of her sopping wet tank top. Her skin is just as wet, though soft and smooth and comfortably warm. When I pull away for air, Addie’s hands move to my cheeks, my neck, my chin, and pull me back down to her. Her energy is so feral, I have no choice but to match it.
I lean into her, forgetting I’ve already dipped her and Gran’s newly paved driveway is slippery. I lose my footing and Addie tries to straighten and overcorrect, which is how we wind up in the dewy grass. She lands on top of me and I’m winded, but only for a moment. Because then I realize she’s on top of me. She’s straddling me. And there’s no way she doesn’t feel exactly what she’s doing to me.
I groan as she moves her hips with a devious smirk on her face. She bends down to me, her hair falling forward into my face. I move the curtain to see the most beautiful angel, covered in freckles and rushing water droplets, the only sunshine yellow in a sea of dark grey sky. I reach for her face and bring it down to mine, needing her lips like I need oxygen, and from her low noise of contentment, I can only assume she feels the same way.
“Not on my lawn, please!” Gran shouts from her porch. Addie and I break apart, though only at the lips. Lucy lets out an unimpressed sneeze from beside Gran. “Adelaide’s house has many rooms. Go find one.”
Chapter Fourteen
Adelaide
“If you don’t mind,” I say, unlocking my front door approximately fifteen minutes later. “I think I might have one of my dad’s shirts. You could change into it while yours dries.”
“Really, it’s fine,” Zander says, like I can’t count every contour on his chest.
I swing the door open and kick off my shoes. Without thinking, I pull my tank top over my head, exposing my years-old nude bra. I feel the flush creep up my chest instantly, and have no choice but to play it off because my shirt is too soaked to put back on.
“Gimme your shirt.” I say, turning around to face him. His eyes dart down to the dip of the bra, then back to my face. “Make it even.”
He chuckles. “You’re the one who took your shirt off first.”
“Ah, yeah, you caught me. I control the weather and I’m trying to get you naked.” He shakes his head, but doesn’t move. “If youdon’t want to wear my dad’s clothes, you could just exist without a shirt while I put it in the dryer.”
He swallows, making his throat bob, then reaches for the hem of his shirt. My eyes draw to the inch of skin exposed on his torso with this subtle movement. Okay, I understand the hesitation.
