Page 70 of Hearts on the Line

“Do you have everything you want?”

I grin, tearing my attention away for a moment to spear another tomato onto my fork. The fan overhead is clicking again, something that always happens when it’s switched on too long, and outside I hear the voices of tourists milling around Main Street as the sun sets and we’re one day closer to September when this magic starts to fade.

“No.” I place the tomato into my mouth, and its juice bursts against my tongue. Small pleasures? Tomatoes in summer. The first lick of an ice cream cone. Sloane Arden’s smile at my smug response, and the answering deep chuckle of mine.

“Why not?” she presses.

Our plates are almost empty.

I don’t have you.

I set my fork down again and lean a little closer. “What are we doing here, Sunny?”

“Here, specifically?” She hides behind another sip of her drink, all coy. “You made dinner…”

“You’re back for the summer,” I say, not giving her room to wiggle away. Not yet. I need to get this out before I lose the little nerve I have when she’s so close. “Here, with me. We slept together last night.”

“Oh. That.” Sloane licks her lips, and a small smile curls at her mouth. “Old habits die hard where you’re concerned.”

I don’t know if it’s ego or hope, but something spurs me on to press her a little more. I don’t need a commitment, I just need to know that last night wasn’t a one-time thing.

Sloane stands up, moves her plate, braces herself across the island, close to me. It gives me a fucking perfect view down her dress, and she knows it because her eyes lock on me and her smile widens.

Her lips hover above mine. I can smell basil and oranges on her breath, and I guess I’m stronger than I thought because, as much as I want to kiss her, I want her to make the first move tonight. I want her to take what she wants, if she wants it. If she’s leaving at the end of the summer, then I’m going to enjoy myself. Maybe then I’ll finally get her out from under my skin.

But when she leans forward and presses her lips against mine, the groan that pulls out of my throat signals otherwise. Her mouth brushes mine once, twice—just enough to leave me reaching in for the next kiss before it’s even there.

I catch her hand and tug her around the island, pulling her flush against me before I can think better of it.

The fan overhead continues to click, the street noise outside fades, until all I can hear is her breathing.

I kiss her back, slow and deep, until my hand slides under her dress and I feel warm, bare skin under my fingertips. She tightens her grip on my shirt, and the low sound she makes hits me straight in the gut.

There’s no caution this time. No wondering if we’ll regret it. Just the two of us in a kitchen that suddenly feels too small.

“Dangerous,” I murmur against her lips, pulling away.

Her smile tilts, sharp. “You started it.”

I slide my hands to her hips and turn her so she’s pressed into the counter. She laughs into my mouth, but it cuts off when I kiss her harder, her back arching.

The hem of her skirt gives under my hands, soft fabric sliding over my knuckles. I push higher, revealing her soft thighs, until my thumbs are grazing the edge of lace.

“Let me taste you again.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean.

She shivers, the tiniest hitch in her breath. “We just⁠—”

I drop to my knees. My fingers find the edge of her panties, hook around them, then slide the fabric to the side, revealing her pussy.

She doesn’t tell me to stop. Just watches, eyes half-lidded, chest rising fast.

I kiss the inside of her knee, then higher, and higher still until I’m right where I’ve been thinking about since last night.

The first taste is a punch straight to my memory—salt, heat, the kind of sweetness that had me wrecked and still does.

Her fingers slide into my hair, tugging just enough to guide me, and I follow without question. Every shift of her hips, every quiet sound she makes, has me gripping her thighs tighter.

“Ethan…”