“Katie,” I said again.
“Yeah?” The water, by now, was just below her collarbone, clinging to her skin, lifting her breasts, and turning her dress into nothing—into tissue paper, into a scrap of drenched, sheer silk. And that was when, out of nowhere, it began to drizzle. Out of nowhere, without warning, it began to rain.
“This is in our book,” I said.
“It’s all in our book,” she said.
I laughed, taking a step closer, wiping the water off her face, then dropping my hands to her hips. The hem of her dress had floated to the surface, and I was testing the lace of what I’d discovered below—flimsy and delicate and, thanks to me, slowly pushed downanother inch to reveal arching bone and satin skin. She grazed my jaw, stopping at the scar just beneath my right eye. The same jagged dash I’d owned since the day our lives changed.
She traced it for a moment, then tipped her chin toward mine. My fingers were still making sense of her skin, and rain was still falling, catching on her lashes, on the bridge of her nose, the grooves of her clavicles, and I was taking another tiptoe toward her, my heart pounding and my dick throbbing and her inhale catching as I finally locked her flexing legs around my tilted hips.
She moaned at the press.
“Katie,” I said.
“Yeah?”
I leaned in an inch. Her eyes, emerald, and daring me closer. Her lips, rain-slicked and watermelon pink and begging to be licked. I swept the hair out of her face, then—after a long, deep inhale—brushed her mouth with the tip of my teeth. She let out this soft little sound, then did the same to me. I whimpered something—a curse, a groan—and did it again. Another graze. Another lick. Another bite. And when the test was over, once I’d had a taste of her, once I’d realized I still wanted her, I pulled her closer, pressed my forehead against hers, and repeated her name. This time, like a question.
“Do it,” she said.
I nodded, walking us back toward the edge of the pool. I was desperate to get a better grip on her, to find something hard and rough to pin her against, and she was right there, forced against the wall, her ass in my hands, her thighs slammed around my erection, her wet, wild hair clinging to her perfect, gasping face and then, nearly three thousand words late, I kissed her.
I kissed her harder than I’d kissed anyone ever before. Even her, even then. I could not get enough of her. I wanted her by the mouthful—lips and tongue and teeth and the curve of her jaw, angled toward mine. The concrete was sandpaper against my knees, and I did not care. I had her. I had her, and the water—the rain, the pool—was softening everything else, even the sounds we were making, the way our bodies were moving, the way we were finding our way back to each other, in ripples and dripping wet.
“Fuck,” I said, barely coming up for air, my mouth still glued to hers, my tongue in her throat, her hands in my hair. She was moving against me, and I was helping her do it, and the water was rising around our ribs, and the dress was even better now. An accessory, a prop—something to lift and touch and search and suck through. “I’ve wanted you all summer. I’ve wanted you for so fucking long. When you wore that skirt, and after that ballgame... Last weekend, when you left, I thought I was dying. I...”
“Stairs,” she muttered through a moan. I nodded, carrying her, devouring her, discovering the taste of her hard nipple when the only thing that separated me from it was a whisper of soaking silk. “Right now.”
I was still licking through the fabric, still working through it with my teeth, letting her sink into my lap on the second step of the shallow end. She shoved down the elastic of my waistband, searching for me, her fingers fumbling closer and closer to exactly where I screamed for her.
“Maybe we should slow down,” I said, but I was still jerking her into me. Still biting and licking and sucking and kissing. Still raking my hands through her hair, sinking my teeth into her shoulder, thrusting myself between her straddled legs and watching her eyesgo wide when we both acted surprised by the sounds that came out next.
“I’m not a little girl,” she said.
“I know.”
Another jerk. Another gasp.
“I’m not just Mikey’s little sister anymore. I’m twenty-five years old, I—”
“I know.”
“Haven’t you been dying to fuck me your entire life?”
I closed my eyes and muttered. When I realized that was not an answer, I tried again. “More than anything. I want you more than anything. I want to fuck you so hard you can’t breathe. I want you in my mouth, in my hands, on my face. I want you in ways you wouldn’t believe.”
“Then show me,” she said, and now she was moaning into my ear, sliding whatever was left down my hips, and her dress was so sheer, and her body was so sure, and I could see her heartbeat through her chest, and everything around us was so wet, and I was throbbing in her hands, and my hands were everywhere, showing her what I meant by hard, showing her that I meant what I said, and I was sliding off her panties, twisting them between my fingers, letting them float beside me, thinking of all the things I could do to her now that they were off, now that she was soaked and skin-close in the palms of my hands. The rain clouds were glimmering off the water, and I could smell the sea, I could smell the sand, and Katie was whisperingplease, she was whispering it over and over,please, Tyler, fuck me, please. She was tightening her thighs around my hips like she meant it, tugging me toward her, groaning, gasping, grinding against me, and I could not breathe, I could notspeak, I could not connect the dots. I could not think about all the things I needed to think about, like a condom or how wide her eyes might go when I was finally inside her or what she might sound like when she came or what might happen when I did, and it was all too much, too real, too soon.
“Katie,” I said. “I can’t do this. I can’t give you what you need.”
“I just need you. Yes, you can. Don’t say that. Don’t—”
I kissed her. I absolutely ravished her. I was selfish about it. I took every bite of her I could, and then said, “I really can’t do this. Not with you. I’m sorry. I thought I could, but I can’t.”
She pulled away, frozen. She suddenly looked ten years younger, and everything inside of me drained. “Not with me? What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” I said. “It’s not you. It’s me, it’s...”
