by Amelia Stone
But then I sighed, remembering that my dad had raised me to be polite, even if I hated someone’s guts.
“It’s fine, uh.” I frowned, not sure if he’d said his name, but one hundred percent sure it was not Meathead P. RoidFreak.
Well, more like eighty.
“Right. Introductions.” Krista huffed. “Seth, this is my friend Graham Morris.”
Friend. Christ, I was really starting to hate that word.
“Graham, this is Seth Holt.” Krista gave me a flat look as she continued the introductions. “We used to be friends when we were kids.”
I scowled at her. “We’re still friends.”
She frowned right back at me. “Yeah. I know. We’re best buddies.”
Her tone was a hell of a lot sassier than I was used to, and I wondered what the fuck that was all about. Was she mad at me? Had I done something wrong already?
I took a deep breath. This was going really badly. I was growling at her, and she was pissed, and Doofus was still standing there with a nervous grin like he was about to ask me to sign his unnaturally swollen man-boob.
Time to forget smooth and get straight to the point.
“Krista, can I talk to you for a second?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I think I should help carry our stuff.”
She tilted her head at her ‘friend,’ whose arms were still mostly full, then to where the gang was sitting about thirty feet away.
“And I left Jess by herself at the concession stand,” she added, like she was looking for excuses. “I should probably grab her and let her know where we are.”
I arched a brow as I glanced back at the group I’d just left. Between our friends, Krista’s sister and her kids, a wolfhound or two, and an entire sporting goods store’s worth of beach umbrellas, I didn’t think Jess could miss it. Especially considering we were only about a hundred yards from the pavilion.
“It’s okay,” the doofus said. “I’ve got all this, and I’ll go grab Jess as soon as I get it all set up. You go ahead.”
Okay, so he was really stupid, if he was letting me talk to her in private while they were in the middle of a date. But I wasn’t about to point that out to him.
Instead, I nodded like it was all settled. “Wonderful.”
I placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her toward the little cluster of buildings near the parking lot. Then I slid my hand down her back until it was resting just above her ass. Not only would it make it easier to steer her where I wanted, it sent the message to Graham the doofus that this was my woman, fuck you very much. But if she noticed how close my hand was to squeezing that plump and perfect ass, she didn’t say anything about it.
“What did you need to talk about?” she asked instead. She sounded wary, and I couldn’t really blame her. I was being a snarling beast today.
“I wanted to continue our discussion from yesterday,” I replied, trying to keep my tone even.
She glanced up at me, and I was surprised to see a sly smile tilting her lips.
“You wanted to talk about horny space penguins?” she asked.
Her eyes darted down, taking in my comparatively boring black board shorts, because of course I’d left the strange birds at home.
Mostly because I’d had to wash the cum out of them – both hers and mine.
“Or maybe you wanted my help exorcising your backyard?” she continued without waiting for me to reply. “Did your sacrificial fap not reach Dionysus’s divine ears?”
I grinned. Krista was spunkier after an orgasm, and I decided I liked it. I liked all the sides of her, and I always had. But seeing her full of fire was new, and pretty damn exciting.
“Or perhaps you need some more water aerobics advice?” she continued with the needling.
I smirked. “None of the above.”
She huffed, her good mood deflating before my very eyes. “Look, if you want to talk about what happened after the hydrotherapy-”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” I smiled at her, trying to ease the tension that had bloomed in the muscles under my hand. “And what happened before.”
“Before?” She turned her face up to me, a quizzical frown pinching her brows.
“Yes. At breakfast.”
She made no reply to that, and I wondered what she was thinking as I guided us around the back of the pavilion where food, bathrooms, and picnic tables were all to be found.
“Where are we going?” she asked. “The concession stand is that way.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, pointing behind us.
“I know.”
But I had another destination in mind, one I remembered from when I was a teenager. One that didn’t have a gaggle of tourists and nosy neighbors milling around us, ready and eager to eavesdrop.
“Just work with me here.” I grinned down at her, and she nodded, though she still looked reluctant.
A moment later we reached the shed where they kept the life jackets and other stuff for swimming and boating lessons. The hide-a-key was right where it was rumored to be, atop the door jamb. Not the safest place to keep it, but then nobody had ever thought to help themselves to the town’s supply of bright orange float vests, either. The key was there because the little concrete bunker had a reputation as a make-out spot, though I’d never used it as a kid.
“Seth, I don’t think this is a good idea.” Krista looked around as though checking to see if anyone was watching.
“It’s fine,” I assured her. “I don’t have any expectations here. I just need to talk to you without a whole bunch of nosy people listening.”
She frowned doubtfully, but she let me usher her inside nonetheless. I closed the door behind me, flipping on the light so we could see each other better. She turned to face me, pulling her hat and sunglasses off as she did so, and I pulled off my shades, too. Then we both opened our mouths to speak at the same time.
“Look-”
“So I was thinking-”
I motioned for her to continue.
“Look, about what happened last night.” She took a deep breath, like she was gathering her strength. “I can’t do that again.”
“What do you mean?” I scowled. “Can’t do what?”
“I mean I can’t just… hookup or whatever with you, okay? I can’t do this casual pretend dating thing with you.”
“I told you,” I grunted. “It’s not pretend. We’re actually dating.”
And there was nothing casual about it, as far as I was concerned. But I decided to keep that to myself for the moment.
“Hooking up in your pool does not count as a date!” She ran a hand through her curls. “I may not be an expert, but I know that much.”
“Well, you were the one who came over at hookup o’clock. If that wasn’t what you wanted, you should have said so.”
“I did say so!” She glared at me. “I told you I was there to help you with your knee. It should go without saying that I wasn’t there for a booty call.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, what was I supposed to think? You knock on my door at almost midnight, then give me an excuse for being there that requires putting your hands all over me.” I lifted my shoulders. “I’m only a man, Krista. I’m not going to be thinking with my big brain in a situation like that.”
She huffed, closing her eyes. “Yeah. I can see that,” she muttered.
I sighed. This was going about as badly as it could. We hadn’t even had a real date yet, and here we were having our first fight as a couple.
“Look.” I softened my tone, stepping closer and putting my hands on her bare shoulders. “I obviously upset you, and I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry I did this in the wrong order. But I am not sorry for what happened last night.”
She shook her head, her cheeks staining pink. “Listen. I can appreciate that you’re my friend, and you want to help me feel desired, or whatever. But I just don’t think I can practice dating with you.” She bit her lip, her eyes bouncing between mine like she was wa
iting for a reaction.
My fingers dug into her shoulders, and I pulled her closer, until she was just inches from me.
“You think that’s what this is about?”
Well. Wasn’t that just my luck? The one time I tried to use my wits, I’d come up with some unnecessarily complicated scheme to spend time with her. And it had backfired spectacularly.
Story of my life, lately.
She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling like sapphires in the fluorescent light.
“Isn’t it?”
I shook my head. “No, Krista.” My hands slid from her shoulder up to her neck, my thumbs brushing her cheek. “It’s not about making you feel better or boosting your confidence.” I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to hers. “It’s not about you at all.”
Her breath puffed against my chin. “Then why in Athena’s name are you doing this?”
I smiled, despite the seriousness of the moment. I’d missed the way she incorporated the ancient gods and goddesses into every aspect of her life, peppering her speech with references to each of them in turn.
But I shook that thought off, because I had more important things to think about at the moment. Namely, that I wanted to clear up these stupid misunderstandings between us, once and for all.
“I’m doing it because I’m selfish,” I told her, pulling back to look at her. “I want you, and I’m tired of fighting it. I’m so fucking over not having you the way I want you.”
She inhaled sharply, her eyes widening. “And how do you want me?”
But I didn’t answer her question. “I need to know if you want this,” I said instead, the words rasping through my suddenly dry, achy throat. “I need to know if you want me. Not Graham, or your ex, or some hypothetical future guy. Just me. I need to know if you want to be with me not just as my friend, but as my lover. Because that’s how I want you, Krista. Every night, every day, in every way possible.”
“Gods,” she breathed. Then she bit that goddamn starfish-pink lip, nodding her head. “I do. I want you, too.”
And that was all it took for me to lose my mind. I descended on her, devouring her lips with deep, hungry kisses that were more about need than technique. But she didn’t seem to care. She gave back everything and more, nipping and sucking and licking like she was trying to taste every part of me.
Fucking yes please.
“Also,” she said, breaking the kiss. “Graham really is just my friend. He’s my best friend’s brother, and he’s married to my cous-”
I cut off her words with my lips, not wanting to hear another fucking thing about that doofus.
“I don’t give a shit about Graham.”
I pushed her back until her luscious ass hit the wall, and she locked her arms around my neck, using the strength of my body to hoist herself up and wrap her legs around my waist.
My knee buckled at the sudden weight in my arms, and I let out a hoarse shout. “Fuck.”
“Oh!” She immediately dropped her legs, her hand sliding around to massage my shoulders, like she was trying to soothe me. “Shit. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
A shaky laugh escaped me, because it was either that or punch the concrete wall in frustration. I couldn’t even have this. I couldn’t have just this one moment with her, not without my goddamn injury fucking it up.
I took a deep breath, trying to talk myself down from my pity ledge. My knee didn’t matter right now. The pain would fade soon enough. The woman in my arms, the woman I’d always wanted, even when I was too young or scared or stupid to admit it – she was the only thing that mattered.
“Don’t you dare be sorry.” I gave her another kiss, softer this time. “I’m fine. But maybe we should only do that when we’re in the pool.”
She chuckled weakly. “Or maybe I should look up some sex positions for people recovering from knee injuries.”
My dick twitched in approval, because it was ready for the sex part right now, knee be damned. I breathed slowly and steadily, trying to calm Little Seth down before we embarrassed ourselves.
And speaking of embarrassment, we should probably leave before someone discovered us in here. Much as I loved my hometown, I knew that dog farts were considered hot gossip on this island. The rumor mill would probably spin off its axle if Seth Holt was caught with his swim trunks down in the storage shed – especially if I were discovered with a Summers girl.
“Sex as rehab. Is that even a thing?” I asked as I steered her toward the door.
She gave me a lazy smile as she straightened her dress… cover… whatever. I really needed to learn the name of that thing.
“Have you heard of this amazing new invention called the internet?” she asked as we stepped out into the sunshine. “Everything’s a thing there.”
I laughed. “Including some things that should not be things, I’m sure.”
She laughed, and my heart beat wildly, like it was trying to climb out of my chest, the better to be closer to the joyful sound. Or maybe it just wanted to be closer to her.
I knew the feeling.
“I try to stay off the internet when I can, though,” I said. “Fans be cray, as the kids these day are saying.”
She chuckled, but it sounded a little off. “Yeah. I hear that.”
Something in her tone gave me pause, and I tugged her hand to get her to stop.
“Everything okay?”
She nodded a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah.” When I didn’t keep going, she blew out a frustrated breath. “It’s just, I’m a successful woman in a man’s industry. I’m sure you can imagine how that goes.”
I frowned, because I absolutely could imagine it. I knew a couple of female sportscasters, and they got more than their fair share of criticism, and sometimes even outright abuse. And too many people still had the outdated idea that they deserved it, for daring to succeed where only men had before them.
“Did someone hurt you?” I asked, doing my best to keep my tone even.
“Just some messages and comments, especially after the first time I went to E3.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, I guess. It sounds kind of messed up, but I have to remind myself that at least my safety was never compromised. I never got doxxed, or stalked, or anything like that. Thank the gods.”
“Jesus.” I ran a hand through my hair, because otherwise I really was going to punch the concrete wall.
“It’s fine,” she said. She laid a hand on my chest, and I took a deep breath. “Really. My partner and I worked it out so that I don’t have to deal with any of the public stuff. He’s the face of the business now. I just get to make video games.”
She smiled, and I took another deep breath, trying to let it go. She seemed confident that she was safe, and I had to let that be enough for me, or I was no better than the mouth-breathing assholes who’d abused her.
“Besides,” she continued, “the internet is full of lots of other wonderful things.”
I smiled. “Yes, but it’s important to remember that not all the things should be things.”
She chuckled. “Well, rehab sex is a thing that should totally be a thing.” She peeked up at me through her eyelashes before flipping her sunglasses down. “I’m going to make sure it’s a thing.”
I tugged on her hand, pulling her closer to me, and she raised herself to her tiptoes, giving me a quick but heated kiss.
“Tonight,” I promised her.
And she smiled back at me, a wicked grin that told me tonight was going to be a very good night indeed.
“It’s a date.”
There was nothing better than enjoying some ice cream with my woman on a balmy summer night.
We were at Sarah Jane’s, sitting at a table in a quiet corner and eating from old fashioned soda shoppe-style dishes, you know, those metal ones with the fluted sides like a gramophone. The interior of the restaurant looked like Umbridge’s office, all pink wallpaper and commemorative plates with kittens on them. But the classic diner menu had a hipster
twist, and the proprietor, Liz Baker, looked more like a tattoo model than a spinster aunt.
“It’s technically not summer, though,” Krista said, pointing her spoon out the shop window. “It’s still May.”
I chuckled. “Did I say that aloud?”
Her cheeks flushed. “You did.” She watched me through her lashes for a beat. “Is that really what you think?”
“That it’s summer?” I grinned. “Of course. Everyone knows that Memorial Day Weekend is the start of tourist season.” I took a bite of my spicy Mexican chocolate sundae. “And tourists mean summer in South Bay.”
She frowned. “Seth.”
“Krista,” I teased, mimicking her tone.
She huffed softly. “Please be serious.”
“I am completely serious. It’s summer, as far as I’m concerned.” I leaned back in my chair, watching as she aimlessly pushed her sad, lonely scoop of blackberry-basil sorbet around. “And you are definitely my woman.”
She ducked her head, and I could see her swallow, though she hadn’t taken a bite since the first one. I waited for her to respond, watching her closely. But she just looked down at her bowl, playing with – but not eating – her ice cream.
“Do you not like it?” I asked.
She looked up, her brow pinched, and I pointed to the bowl in front of her. She nodded her understanding. Then her expression turned thoughtful, and she was quiet for another moment as she seemed to debate what to say.
“I love it,” she finally replied. Her eyes lifted to mine once more. “But it’s not something I can have.”
I lifted a brow. “Why not? It’s made with natural ingredients, and it tastes good.”
She shook her head. “But it’s not good for me.” She looked down at her bowl again. “I’m not like some other people, where I can just have whatever I want.”
My smile faded, and I wondered for a moment what we were really talking about here. But I decided to go with the simpler conversation, because I was a simple guy.
“Sure you can.” I shrugged. “Just open that pretty mouth and insert sorbet.”
She shook her head. “I’ll gain weight. Especially after everything I ate at dinner.”