“Hey”—I take a few steps out until my feet no longer touch the bottom—“it is kind of warm.”
“That’s because I had to take a mean piss.” His dark brows rise as he swoops in closer. “Don’t worry, sweetie”—he blinks a smile—“I only had your best interests at heart.”
“You bastard.” I flick my fingers, squirting him in the face. Ace shakes his head like a wet dog, peppering me with the residue.
“Lying bastard would be more accurate. I promise, Reese, I can find far more creative ways to keep you warm, and very few of them involve bodily fluids.” Ace hoods his lids again. His dimples depress as he comes in ever so close. “I think this is the part where we hug it out—or maybe we should make out for the hell of it and call it a night.” A smile tugs on his lips, and it only makes him look that much more achingly beautiful. Ace is a god among men, and he doesn’t even know it.
I pinch my nose and dip under the waterline, relieving my hair of the gravity-defying pose I molded it into earlier.
“Big hair is officially out,” I say, blinking into him.
“I think you just changed the topic.”
“I didn’t think you’d notice.” I move in closer until his chest is within reach, and I wonder if he can see my body from this vantage point—if he wants to.
“I noticed a lot about you tonight.” He swallows hard, taking in my features as if it’s the first time he’s seeing me.
“Like?” I push in an inch, anxious to steal a glance below the water and see his measuring rod for myself.
Ace winces.
We both know we’re dancing a little too close to the flames, and I like it, I’m hoping he likes it too. Ace and I have been friends from the womb, never mind the fact I’ve been secretly crushing on him just as long, but we’ve never stepped outside the bounds of friendship. I hung out with a different crowd in high school, then went straight to Yeats while Ace has spent the last three years at the local junior college.
“Like the fact you’re the only girl I know who can pull off big hair.” His dimples reappear, mocking me with their superpowers. “Your neon leggings were pretty hot, too. I think you should bow to the eighties style gods and revamp your wardrobe.”
“Please”—I hedge in ever so close—“I looked like an escapee from a John Hughes movie.”
“A damn cute one.”
My heart thumps just once when he says it.
“You think I’m cute?” I ask, moving in another few inches. It’s a well-known fact Ace thinks of me more as a little sister than a contender for his endless supply of prophylactics. I should know about the never-ending supply, I’ve seen the testaments to anti-procreation he stashes openly in his bedroom. His sister Neva and I used to be friends until she ditched me for a group of stoner girls. Then, one day, out of the blue, she announced she’s always hated me, and we haven’t said two words since. Now she just gives me the finger in lieu of hello.
“Yeah, I think you’re cute.” He reaches over and messes up my hair, so I slip under again and come up slicked to perfection as only the lake can provide.
I spit a perfect stream of water into his face. “Yeah?” I pant out of breath. “Well, I think you’re beautiful.”
“What?” His head ticks back a notch. He’s either genuinely amused or more-than-slightly pissed. Gone is the playful banter as his features soften, affording him a boyishness I’ve never seen in him before.
“You heard me. I think you’re beautiful.” A moment of silence whistles by with the breeze. “And, I think maybe we should make out for the hell of it.” My heart races at the prospect of his mouth covering mine—his probing tongue having free roam inside me for hours. I’d give every pint of blood in my body to make this happen. Being dead by morning doesn’t frighten me near as much as living a life in which I’ve never kissed Ace. I’ve wanted it, fantasized about it for years.
“Yeah, right.” He squeezes his eyes tight for a moment as if trying to rouse himself from a dream. “You’re all hopped up on moonlight and night magic and whatever else girls fill their heads with after midnight.” He tips his chin up as he examines me. Water beads down his face. His stubble dusts over his cheeks like a shadow, and my gut cinches just taking him in like this.
The sweet scent of night jasmine perfumes the air and makes me heady for a special kiss that only Ace Waterman can masterfully deliver.
“I’m serious.” I lean forward until I feel the warmth emanating from his chest. Every inch of me trembles with a new level of fear I didn’t know existed. Who knew that deep down inside, Ace is the very thing I’m terrified of. “I want to have a crazy summer”—I reach out and touch my fingers over his glossy hair, soft and slick—“and the last person to give it to me is going to be Warren McCarthy. If I have to hang out with him and the banana republicans until I head back to Yeats, I’m going to fling myself off Wilson Bridge.” I stick my finger down my throat and mock gag at the idea.
Ace ticks his head back a notch and looks at me with the slight air of reproach. Now that I think of it, I’m pretty sure mock gagging only made me look even more like a child in his eyes. The next thing you know, I’ll be leading him into a sparkling conversation about late-night cartoons—maybe challenging him to a game of Candy Land to round out the evening. Just fuck. Way to kill a potential spit swap. I would have paid in solid gold Krugerrands to have his lips pressed against mine for even a brief moment in time.
“I see many flaws with your plan of action.” He sinks until the water is up to his chin. Ace looks up at me as the stars reflect in his eyes, and I marvel at this small miracle. “Not only is Wilson a covered bridge, but the water in the stream is a shallow four feet.” His lips twitch. “Blame it on the lousy rainfall we had last year.”
Ace floats back a few inches, but the gap he’s building may as well have an entire continent between us. A part of me wonders if he finds me too repulsive for that ever-elusive kiss. I might be leaning toward the dramatic, but I’m probably not too far off base. Rumor has it he’s slept his way through the entire state of Connecticut, and, yet, I’ve never garnered so much as a second look from him. Not that I’ve put out any signals that I was interested before, at least not like I am now. I think he’s right, I’m drunk off night magic, and it has me fearlessly asking for the very thing I’ve always wanted—Ace himself.
“And what about that kiss?” It comes from me barely audible, broken—because if he doesn’t deliver I might raise the water levels of this lake with tears.
“Reese,” he presses my name out in a broken whisper. “You’re going to regret it in the morning. You’ll probably realize Warren is the exact person you’re going to marry one day, and you’ll hate me for taking advantage of you like this.”
“I’m not marrying Warren.” I huff an incredulous breath. “God—you sound just like my dad.” Warren’s father and Dad are golf buddies who have not so secretly been working out the finer details of our prenuptials while they walk the green all day. They own a law firm together, Westfield and McCarthy. They’ve been fostering a budding bromance ever since law school, and now they’re ready to take the next logical step in their relationship by marrying their children off to one another. The scary thing is, Warren would probably go along with it because a wife is just another thing you acquire on your way to prison for orchestrating a Ponzi scheme. But I’m not going along with this prearranged marriage of inconvenience. Not now, not ever.
A devilish grin takes over as I swim over to him and boldly wrap my arms around his neck.
My bare chest brushes over his, and I die a little as an electrical current travels from his skin to mine. A heated breath gets locked in my throat as I try to stave off a groan. My heart thumps in my ears, my vocal cords go into lockdown.
Dear God. I’m holding Ace Waterman in the nude—his naked everything just inches away from mine, while the lower half of my body roars out an invitation for him to come inside.
“Whoa.” His chest rattles a dull la
Ace and I are straddling the platonic line that’s carefully kept us on the opposite side of the sexual divide, and tonight, our feet, every square inch of our bare flesh, is ready to cross it.
Ace doesn’t move, which begs the question maybe he wants this, too. Maybe he’s not repulsed by the sight of me. Maybe he does think of me as something more than his sister’s friend—a girlfriend, someone to wrinkle the sheets with. And, at the moment, I’m feeling every bit the contender.
“Hell, yes, I want to do this,” it comes from me breathy. “The only thing I’ll regret in the morning is if I don’t.”
A laugh rumbles deep in his chest, but he doesn’t let it cross his vocal cords. “Well, if you feel that strongly,” he says it low, seductive. His dimples quiver with the trace of a smile. Ace pulls me in by the small of my back and caresses my curves as his hands glide up my body, warming me, electrifying me to heaven and back in the process. “But, for the record, it’s going to be me kissing you.” He presses out a slow-spreading smile before his expression melts to something all too serious. “Get ready, Reese, because I’m about to blow every kiss you’ve ever shared with that banana republican right out of the fucking water.”
My insides pinch with heat. Every ounce of my being shakes because Ace Waterman just threatened me with an expletive in the most erotic way. Hot damn. His mouth is coming for mine, and now all of my dreams, my fantasies, are about to come to fruition.
Ace pulls me in gently by the cheeks and lands his mouth over mine. His lips brush over me, softer than air, far softer than I would have ever pegged them to be. My legs circle around his as I give an involuntary moan. He secures me by the back of the neck and glides his tongue over mine, sending a quiver between my thighs until it creates its own beautiful spasm. The entire night sky breaks out in a hallelujah choir because Ace Waterman is loving me with his mouth in ways that I had truthfully never expected.
I cinch my legs up around his waist, tight as a coil, landing the most intimate part of me against his heated skin. Here I am, spread wide and vulnerable as a series of climactic seizures rocket off in my sweet spot, straight up to my belly. I’m not sure this is the response Ace wanted—me dry humping him, having a string of orgasms right off his body while his mouth explodes in mine like a series of shooting stars.
I clamp my arms over him like an anchor, securing me right where I was destined to be as I wash myself in moonbeams, making magic in the night with the only boy I’ve ever really cared about.
Ace gives a groan that thunders from his chest, primal and urgent. His kisses intensify and methodically blow each vanilla exchange I’ve ever shared with Warren right out of the fucking water just like he predicted.
I wonder if my mother would be disappointed to know that I’m kissing a boy in the lake after midnight with his hard-on rising to greet my bare bottom. But I’m merely doing exactly as she requested. This is the summer I’m going to chase my ecstasy—create my own adventure. And I’m starting right here under a firefly moon, kissing a beautiful boy.
Ace
For the better part of my life I’ve had a hard-on for Reese Westfield, but never in my wildest wet dreams did it ever play out like this with her feasting on my tongue while my erection does its best to impale her.
Her soft skin presses hard against mine, the weight of her tits against my chest is about all I can take, not to mention the fact her hips are tucked against my stomach with her hot slick buried in my abs. It takes everything in me not to perseverate on that one sensation because if I do I’ll lose it.
“Nice.” I pull back an inch and inspect her in this dismal light, the cool of the lake rinsing over our shoulders every now and again. That kiss was a hell of a lot better than nice, but I’m not ready to verbalize how whipped I am for her just yet. Not that my dick is doing anything to hide the way it feels.
First, I didn’t think for a minute she’d shed the stitches and hop into the lake with me. And, second, that kiss was enough to fuel every wet dream I’ll ever have until I’m nothing but a bag of bones, one step away from a casket, and, at that, I’ll probably die with a hard-on from the memory of it.
“It was nice.” She gives an impish grin. “We should do this more often.” She presses in another kiss, and this time she lingers, no tongue. “Like every single night.”
“You didn’t hit your head earlier, did you?” I’m only half-teasing. Reese and I go way back, and I have no memory of her ever coming on to me. I mean, sure, we’ve stolen glances, I’ve caught her looking in places that would happily salute her efforts for even acknowledging their existence but nothing like this, tonight blows doors off stolen glances.
“Nope. Didn’t hit it.” She licks her lips as if she’s hungry for more. “Who are you again?”
“Very funny.” I run my hands along the underbelly of her thighs, and she cinches herself around my waist. Her tits are pressed over my chest so tight, I’m about to come without much more effort on her part. “You know, the sun is going to come up, and you might want to reprise the amnesia.” I swallow hard. “And, if you do, I promise I won’t hold it against you.” It feels like an odd thing to say since I’m holding just about everything else against her. “I won’t kiss and tell if you won’t.” I give a playful wink. Really, I just wanted to give her the out. A long time ago my father suggested I point my boner the hell away from Reese Westfield. He said that people that came from money feel like they’re better than the rest of us—that mixing with someone like Reese would never work out in the end. Of course that was days after Reese’s father refused to bail him out on a DUI. That sort of killed their friendship, and it was right about the time Neva and Reese axed theirs. Although I doubt one had anything to do with the other. I’m still not sure what the fallout was there, never could get my sister to open up about it.
“There’s not a chance in hell I’ll forget this.” Reese runs her tongue over her lips, glossing them a deep shade of crimson even in this dull light. “You probably will.” She splashes water in my face, and I hold back from retaliating like I normally would. “I bet I’m second rate compared to the girls you’ve let defile you with their body parts.” Her face pinches with grief a moment before that playful smile bounces back to her lips.
She couldn’t be further from the truth. Reese detonated in my mouth like a powder keg, twisting my guts like a pretzel in every good way.
“There’s nothing second rate about you.” I try to sink her hips off me in an effort to defuse the real bomb ticking away, the one between my legs. “I think we’d better get you home. Kennedy is going to have every P.I. in Connecticut on the hunt for you in just a few minutes.”
“Let them look.” She tilts into me, stroking her fingers through the back of my hair. “I’m right where I want to be.”
A dull smile rides on my lips. “I’d better get some clothes on you, and then I probably should throw myself in a cold shower.” I leave out the fact I’ll be alleviating the tension brewing in my balls while I’m in there, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’s put me in that position.
“Throw me in there with you.” Her cheeks darken, and I’m ready to call her bluff.
“There’s nothing we can do in there that we can’t do right here.”
The whites of her eyes expand like stars as she fumbles for words.
“Knew it.” My chest rumbles over hers with a quiet laugh. “I call bullshit.” I sink out of her grasp and start swimming toward shore.
“Hey, wait.” She glides up alongside me and latches onto my arm. “I’m not playing games.” She glances down at the water and takes a measured breath. “I thought maybe, you know, we could have some fun.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll beat you at basketball in the morning. I’ll make sure you have lots of fun trying to steal the ball from me.”
She wrinkles her nose, and I do my best to hide a smile. Reese is cuter than hell when she’s pissed.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” She bats those amazing lashes at me, but there’s a hint of sadness layered just beneath the surface.
“What?” Reese is a masterpiece in and out of her blue jeans, and if she doesn’t know it, she’s got some serious self-esteem issues. “I think you’re a beautiful goddess.” There. That should cure her.
Her mouth curves with a slow smile. She seals her hips to mine once again, and my gut flinches because it’s torture having her so close and not being able to touch her the way I want, the ways I’ve meditated over for so many years.
“I want you to be my first, Ace.” The smile melts off her face as her lips come in close again. “I want to know the things you know, do the things you do—with you.”
“Reese,” I let it out in a heated whisper. “You need to do those things with someone who means something to you—someone special. Don’t waste your time with a guy like me.” I came within an inch of calling myself a loser which I don’t believe for a second, but, in a way, I think my dad has been right all along, Reese doesn’t belong with someone like me.
“You mean something to me.” She takes a hiccupping breath as if she’s about to cry. “I think you’re someone special, Ace.”
“I think we’re great friends”—I force a weak smile—“who just shared something amazing. But you need something bigger like love. You need flowers and candles—everything that comes with it.”
Her eyes narrow over mine, and, for a second, I think she might clock me.
“Yeah, well, I’ve already made up my mind that I’m going to have a wild time this summer.” She pushes off my thighs until she’s floating on her back. Her tits roll back just under her neck, solid and round as if someone shoved oranges under her skin, and suddenly I’m very fucking hungry for oranges. She glides backward, fanning her arms around her like an angel. “I’m so tired of my boring life,” she whispers the words to the sky, and suddenly I feel like an intruder. “I’m ready to move onto the next. Dive into the ecstasy of it all and see what the rest of the world keeps talking about.”
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