by Joelle Knox
And I’m mostly naked in the lake, wondering if this is how orgasms start. Because if it is, I’ve never had one before, but I’m about to.
He has one huge hand splayed across the small of my back. His other is sliding around my rib cage, and my brain is still scrambling, struggling to make sense of all the sensations, when he cups my breast and pinches my nipple between his fingers.
It’s pleasure, and it’s—not pain, but something sharp that zips through me like an electric shock. I can’t hold back my soft cry, or the way my body twists, spine arching, my head falling back.
“Just a little more,” he whispers against my skin.
“Sean—” I dig my fingernails into his arms as the pulses of pleasure collide with the tension. I’m twisting tighter and tighter, yearning for what comes next even though I can barely fathom it. I only know I need it, and Sean can get me there. “Help me. Please—”
The hand on my back turns to steel, grinding me harder against him, and his teeth close in a sharp, sudden bite.
It’s rough. Dangerous. I don’t know why, because he’s still Sean, but my instincts are screaming that we’ve crossed a line. We’re not just two people groping in a lake, giving in to lust. He’s driving, steering me where I want to go, giving me exactly what I asked for.
I stop straining for relief and let him take me there, and all that aching pressure shatters. I cry out with the first warm rush of it, belatedly crushing the backs of my fingers to my mouth as if I can muffle the wild sounds.
He turns my face to the hollow of his neck instead, holding me there as his movements slow. My shudders slow with them, until I’m limp in his arms, shivering in the aftermath.
Sean’s chest rumbles against mine as he brushes away the wet hair clinging to my face. “We didn’t bring any towels.”
A giggle bubbles up, and I can’t help myself. I laugh and press my forehead to his, floating on more than water. “You’re not even going to be a little smug about that?”
“What, forgetting the towels?” Despite his words, his smile is pure satisfaction.
In response, I wiggle, because he’s still hard against me.
His groan echoes over the water. “You play dirty, sweetheart.”
I rock this time, using the leverage of my legs around his hips to shift up and down. This is better than being drunk, this hum of excitement surging through my veins. Every time he groans, I feel powerful. Dirty. Bad. “Are you really thinking about towels?”
“No.” He stills my movements with both hands on my hips, but only for a moment before his grip eases. “No, I’m not.”
“What are you thinking about?”
He hesitates, but his silence breaks with the next rock of my hips. “Being inside you.”
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. And that’s proof that I’m playing with fire, because of course that’s what he’s thinking about. It’s the next logical step to him, the natural progression, and the panic that splinters through me is the part that doesn’t belong.
I can’t let him see it. That fear is the dam holding back a torrent of secrets that aren’t mine to tell. They’d wreck him, and I’m not being a martyr. I’m being selfish. I need him too much to risk that.
So I try. I try to relax my trembling limbs, to breathe normally, but I don’t even know what that is. I was gasping and panting before, and now every breath is quick and shallow, like I’m on the verge of hyperventilating.
His brow furrows, and his hands tighten on my hips again. “I didn’t mean it like that, Hannah. Not here, or now, or ever, if that’s not what you want.”
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I’m sorry, it’s not you—”
“Hey.” He cups my face, his expression dark with worry. “Shh. It’s not a thing, okay?”
I manage to suck in a deep breath, release it. Slowly, my breathing steadies. He’s still cradling me, so gentle and worried, and I have to close my eyes. “It is. Because I’m acting crazy.”
“No, you’re not.”
Only because he doesn’t know. Sex isn’t what scares me, but the possible consequences. I got my terrifying lesson in how high the stakes can be when accidents happen, and I can’t shake it.
But I don’t have to tell him my secrets if I tell him a different truth. One he already suspects, so it shouldn’t be embarrassing. But my cheeks flush as I hide my face against his throat. “I told you I wasn’t thinking much about kissing after that summer. I don’t—I never met a guy I felt comfortable with. Not for this.”
“You don’t have to explain,” he murmurs. “And you sure as hell don’t have to make excuses.”
“It isn’t an excuse.” I need him to understand, so I take my time with the words, picking the right ones. “I get nervous. I freeze up. Except with you.” Usually.
Sean’s hands are moving again, stroking up and down my back, in and out of the water. The gesture is soothing, not sexual. “You didn’t freeze up, sweetheart. I pushed—didn’t mean to, but I did. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
I don’t think anyone’s ever said those words to me before. Maybe I’ve faked functional for so long, no one’s ever figured out that I need to hear them, but I do, so much. They melt the lingering tension from my body as I cuddle close to him, breathing in the scent of his skin and savoring his warmth. “Thank you.”
“Any time, Hannah.”
He almost makes me believe it. But as his fingertips trace idle patterns across my spine, uncertainty twists in my belly. He can say there’s nothing wrong with me, but that doesn’t mean this is what he signed on for.
So I memorize the feel of him, just in case this is the last time he touches me.
10
»» sean ««
“I’m going to go check on Evie.”
I nod and drag one hand through my wet hair as Hannah slips off into the darkness. I almost blew it with her, and the thought upsets me more than it should. It’s not the sex—only an asshole would play up to a girl like Hannah right now to get laid. It’s the trust.
She trusts me, and I’d hate myself for fucking that up.
Gibb has settled by the fire with a couple of the other mechanics, but he lifts a hand and waves me over. “I was starting to wonder if you’d left.”
“Just went for a dip in the lake.” Someone hands me a beer, and I twist off the cap with more force than I meant to use. It foams up, spilling over the front of my damp shirt. “Shit.”
“What’d that beer ever do to you, man?” Gibb’s watching me with one brow raised, waiting for me to incriminate myself, no doubt.
I do what I do best—deflect. “Nothing. Where’s your date?”
“Ignoring the hell out of me. Where’s yours?”
Probably telling her friend what an asshole I am. “Girl talk.”
“Congratulations.” Gibb clinks the neck of his beer bottle against mine. “Or better luck next time.”
I can’t help a laugh. “One of the two, huh?”
“Hey, if it requires girl talk, those are basically your options.”
“Yeah.” The hell of it? It was good before I opened my stupid mouth. It was damn good.
Gibb watches me for a few seconds before heaving a sigh. “Shit. How serious is this?”
As if he really wants to know. Gibb may be my best friend, but he’d prefer having things the way they were, before Hannah came back to town. He can try to support me—and he will—but his heart won’t be in it. It can’t be.
“I like her,” I answer. “But I’m old enough to know that doesn’t mean much. She’s got stuff going on. To be honest, so do I.”
“Is she going back to Atlanta?”
The possibility makes my gut clench, and I look away. “No idea.” Gibb seems pretty on edge himself, so I nudge him with my elbow. “I shouldn’t have dragged you out here.”
He shrugs. “Things might be going better with Evie if Sawyer hadn’t gotten his pretty fucking face all up in there.”
I squint at him. “You want things to go better?”
“No,” Gibb says quickly. “But I might have pissed her off.”
I groan. “What’d you do?”
“Warned her about Sawyer.” Gibb’s stare dares me to challenge him.
We grew up with Sawyer. He works with Trey, and they’ve been friends since pee wee football. He volunteers at a food bank, for fuck’s sake. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him—except that, somehow, he stepped on Gibb’s toes tonight.
You don’t even like Evie. The words die on my tongue, unspoken. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe he’s just that competitive, and doesn’t like getting shuffled aside.
He’s still looking at me, so I shrug. “If he’s interested in her, so what? It’s not like you haven’t had plenty of chances.”
Gibb’s expression hardens. “He’s way too old for her.”
“Man, are you serious? I know you don’t like to lose, but Jesus.”
“It’s Evie,” Gibb retorts, lowering his voice to a rough whisper. “You know she’s been through some shit.”
It cuts close. Too close. Whatever she’s been through, it probably doesn’t compare to an entire family that’s either dead or dying. But I know Gibb doesn’t care about Hannah’s situation, not really, and I give in to the irritation coursing through me. “I know Evie makes big eyes at you. She brings her car in to the garage way too often, and it sure as hell isn’t to see me. But you treat her like crap until someone else catches her attention.”
“Yeah?” He lifts his beer to me. “Maybe I’m no good for her. At least I know it.”
He meant for that to hurt, so somehow it hurts less. “Funny how your newfound sense of awareness doesn’t stop you from trying to cockblock Sawyer.”
“You’re right.” Gibb shakes his head and turns away. “It’s not going to stop me. But I’m done trying it with you, man. Whatever this thing is that you’ve got going on with Hannah, I hope it works out. I really do, okay?”
Normally, it’s hard as hell to be mad at Gibb, no matter what kind of enraging stuff he does or says. That’s just how he is. But right now I’m furious, and I don’t think the feeling’s going away anytime soon.
I drain the rest of my beer and toss the empty bottle in the bucket beside the cooler. A moment later, a hand slides up my arm. It’s Molly Johnson, one of the girls who frequents the races, and her redheaded friend, whose name I can never remember.
“Hey, big winner,” she drawls with a sultry smile. Her fingers reach my damp hair. “Did you go swimming without me?”
“Yeah.” I duck away from her touch, trying not to be too obvious about it. “I went with my date.”
Molly’s friendly, but she’s not pushy. She pulls a good-natured pout and shifts her focus to Gibb. “Did you bring one, too?”
“I don’t know. Did I, Sean?”
Only a real asshole would spend his night bitching about Evie’s one dance with Sawyer, then duck out on her again. “Nope. He’s free and easy, ladies, like always.”
The redhead grins. “Come swimming with us, Gibb.”
“I just might.” He tosses his beer into the bucket with a clatter and shoots me a look. “I’ll find my own ride home.”
“You do that.”
Gibb rises and catches Molly’s hand. His grin’s a little off, a little forced, but he heads off into the darkness without another word, leaving me standing there with my hands in my pockets, looking like an idiot.
Colin and some of the other guys are staring at me, so I turn around and head toward the shadows away from the fire. I stop short when I spot Hannah, Evie, and Sawyer at the edge of the trees. They’re deep in discussion, but I know from the set of Hannah’s shoulders that she saw everything.
Buck up, Whitlow. I walk over to where they’re standing and raise both eyebrows. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” Hannah’s fingers brush mine, casually enough to be written off as an accident, but I wrap my hand around hers and hold it. “Sawyer just invited us to come see his band play.”
“Yeah?”
Sawyer ducks his head with a grin. “It’s not exactly big league stuff, but it should be a good time.”
“Sounds like it.” Some of my tension melts away as Hannah leans against my side. At least I managed not to fuck up something tonight.
She smiles up at me, still so shy. “You should come with us.”
“Sure.” I draw her closer, wrap my arm around her shoulders. I don’t want to be making small talk with McGinnis. I want to be talking to Hannah. Touching her. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah,” she says without hesitating. “Evie?”
“I’ll drive you,” Sawyer offers. “If you want to stay for a while.”
Evie’s smile takes a shade too long to curve her lips, and suddenly I know that she saw the whole thing, too—the argument, and especially Gibb wandering off with Molly Johnson and her friend. “Thanks, Sawyer,” she murmurs. “I’d like that.”
Hannah breaks away from me to hug Evie, whispering something too soft for me to make out. Evie laughs and shakes her head, then meets my gaze with a wink. “Y’all have a good night.”
More people are arriving as we’re walking to the car. Plenty of familiar faces, and there’s more than one double take as Hannah and I pass by, arm in arm.
It doesn’t feel fair not to warn her. “It’s gonna be all over town by tomorrow. You and me.”
“I was already all over town.” Her arm tenses in mine. “You sure you want all of that attention?”
No. But it’s not going to stop me, either. “I can take it.”
“If you’re sure…” She stops beside my car and turns to face me. “Is everything okay? With Gibb?”
I snort. “Gibb’s okay.”
“Are you?”
“I’m—” Fine. The word won’t come, and I shake my head as I open her door. She climbs in, and I gather my thoughts as I walk around and slide behind the wheel. “Gibb had a front-row seat to all the shit, you know. Before.”
“You and Cait,” she says quietly. “I know.”
“Yeah.” I don’t want to tell her how many times Gibb had to talk me down after another fight, another blowup. Another night of Cait screaming that I was useless and she never wanted to see me again.
I start the car instead.
Dirt crunches under the tires as I pull out, heading for the main road. Hannah’s still silent beside me, and it’s not a comfortable silence this time. The air hangs heavy with all the things neither of us is saying, until she cuts through the tension with a sigh. “Did she ever tell you about her doctor?”
“What doctor?”
“The psychiatrist.”
I look at Hannah, startled. It was the kind of thing Cait used to joke about, but I never imagined there was any truth to it. “She had one?”
“Only for senior year.” Anger tightens her voice. “My mother disapproved. She thought Cait was making excuses or trying to humiliate the family or something, I don’t know. She always said Cait’s problem was her attitude, but it wasn’t. She needed help.”
Cait was sick. The knowledge slams into me, along with relief and guilt on top of guilt. Some part of me is happy to know that maybe there was a reason for all the ups and downs—but it also means I turned her away when she needed me.
I think I’m gonna be sick, so I pull over. I can’t unclench my hands from the wheel. “I fucked up.”
“No, Sean—” Hannah touches my hand. “I didn’t mean it like that. She needed them to help. Even when she went out and got treatment, my parents discouraged her. My mother was more worried about the family image than keeping her daughter healthy.”
“Not that.” I swallow hard. “Cait came to see me a few days before you guys left for South Carolina. She told me she needed to stay, and she wanted…” I have to look away. I can’t watch Hannah watching me as I tell her the truth. “It was one time too many. I couldn’t do it. I told her she should go.”
And I could have stopped it all, just by saying yes. I could have saved her from that shame—
Or maybe I’m the worst kind of arrogant fucker for even thinking it. Cait needed understanding and support, two things she never got from her parents. But the last thing she needed was for me to step in, another person sure he knew what was best for her.
But if I had taken her back one last time, she wouldn’t have been in South Carolina that summer. She wouldn’t have been swimming in the inlet behind her grandmother’s house, and she wouldn’t have died. I couldn’t have fixed her—my stomach churns even thinking the word—but I could have saved her life.
“Now you know,” Hannah whispers. “Every day, I go into that hospital and I look at the woman in that bed. I try to forgive her, and I can’t. Because Cait needed her, and she sent us both away.”
Cait wasn’t the only one their parents hurt. Hannah’s still shaking, but reaching out to comfort her now feels wrong. “What are you gonna do?”
Her hand slips from mine. “I don’t know. Keep trying, I guess.”
“Yeah.” I check the mirrors, then pull back onto the two-lane road. “I’ll take you home.”
“Okay.”
The hint of emotion in her voice drags at me. It wasn’t exactly sadness, but it wasn’t anger or frustration, either. As we’re pulling to a stop in front of Evie’s house, I finally put a name to it.
Resignation.
I shut off the car and wait until she meets my gaze. “I’m glad you told me, Hannah.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She fumbles with her seat belt. “Cait had a lot going on in her head. More than she let any of us see.”
“Hey—” If I don’t stop her, she’ll bolt. She’ll hide, and somehow I know there’s a part of her I’ll never see again. “I mean it. I’m glad you told me. It helps. Sometimes...I used to think maybe it was just me. That I made her that damn unhappy.”
Her hands still, but she won’t look at me. She curls her fingers into fists and braces them on her legs. “What if Gibb’s right? I’m not Cait, but I’m fucked up in my own ways. I could hurt you.”