Page 26 of The Summer We Lie

"Please," Harper answers. Skye walks over to make their drinks, and I watch her go.

"She seems nice," I say, trying to sound casual, like I'm not completely fucked by this situation. Like I hadn't bought her virginity in an online auction before discovering she was my daughter's best friend.

"Oh, Skye's awesome, just wait until she's not jet-lagged and half asleep," Harp says, pride in her voice. Great. She gets better than this? The knot in my stomach tightens.

"Was the flight good?" I ask, desperate for normal conversation.

"Yeah, not bad. I read a book while Skye here," she emphasizes her name as Skye gets back to the table, "snored the whole way here."

"Hey!" Skye says, color rising to her cheeks. "I don't snore."

Harper laughs. "Uh-huh, you're right," she says and then gives me a look that says she definitely does snore. I laugh, trying to ignore how endearing I find this detail, this glimpse of vulnerability.

"You didn't get a shake?" I ask Skye, noticing just the sodas in her hands.

"She said she's getting fat and didn't want one. I tried to tell her how good they are, but she has a weakness for ice cream," Harper says.

"Um, where?" I ask before I can stop myself, eyes traveling over her slender frame.

Skye pops a fry into her mouth and looks up at me. "Where what?"

"Where's the fat?" I ask. The question is too personal, too familiar, but it's out before I can pull it back. I'm looking at her too intently, noticing too much.

"I tried to tell her," Harp says. "Here, at least try mine."

"It will go straight to my ass," Skye says with a groan that does things to me it absolutely shouldn't.

A laugh sneaks out because that's my second favorite thing about her looks, second to her green eyes that are almost yellow. If she asked me, I would tell her to have all the ice cream she wants.

She takes a drink of Harper's shake. "Mmm, that's so good," she says, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure.

"You got chocolate?" I ask, trying to regain control of the conversation and my thoughts.

"Yeah," Harper says, taking her cup back.

"You want to try the strawberry?" I say, holding my cup out to her. It's an innocent offer. Completely innocent. Just being polite. Nothing more.

She looks at me warily for a second and then brings my straw to her lips and sucks. Her lips wrap around the straw, and I can't look away. My throat goes dry at the sight of her mouth where mine had just been.

"She loves strawberry," Harper says around a mouthful, completely missing the moment of tension.

I look back to Skye as she pulls the cup away and hands it back. I watch her swallow, and then she lets out a little whimper that shoots straight to my groin. The sound echoes in my head, awakening images of other circumstances where she might make that sound.

"Good?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intended, betraying too much.

"So good," she says and eats another fry, her tongue darting out to catch salt from her lip.

I take another long drink of my shake and hand it back to her. "You take it," I say, surprising myself with the offer.

"No, I can't take your shake," she says, but her eyes linger on it with want, the same want I'm struggling to contain whenever I look at her.

"I want you to have it," I say, the words coming out with more intensity than appropriate for a milkshake. Our eyes lock for a moment, and there's understanding there—where I don’t think we’re talking about the shake.

She hesitates, then reaches for it, our fingers brushing as she takes it. The contact sends electricity up my arm. "Thank you," she says quietly, voice almost a whisper.

"My pleasure," I respond, and immediately regret the choice of words, too loaded, too suggestive.

Harper is talking about something—their flight, the summer plans, places she wants to show Skye—but I'm barely listening. All I can focus on is Skye's lips wrapped around my straw, drinking from where my mouth just was. It's an innocent action that my mind has twisted into something else entirely, something forbidden and dangerous.