“Hold me so I won’t float away?”
Kip swallows, a smirk finding his lips as his hand wraps around mine. And just like every time the boy touches me, my skin sparks to life under his fingertips, a constant rush of energy flowing through me and cycling back toward him.
“So,” I say, letting my eyes fall up to the sky. I stare at the white clouds through the safety of my sunglasses, bringing the conversation back around. “If it were up to you, would you be in a fraternity?”
“Maybe. I guess I don’t really know. It’s just always been ingrained in me that I would go to college and be in a fraternity. I’ve never really had the chance to think if I’d actually like it. But, at least being here, I can do what he wants and still do what I want, too. I don’t have to live under his scrutiny, his constant judging of whether I’m doing the right thing or not.”
I smile, holding his hand a little tighter. “I think you’ve got life figured out, Kip Jackson. At least, you seem like you do. You know what you want to do in life, you’re not afraid to be who you want to be — I think your dad should be proud of you.”
The words slip out before I realize the magnitude of them, and I feel the moment they hit Kip. His hand stiffens in mine, just a pause, and then his thumb rubs against my palm.
“You know, I liked the you that came out last night,” he says, switching gears. “The care-free, I-don’t-give-a-shit Skyler.”
I shake my head, thinking of how he had me screaming — yes, literally screaming — at the top of the Ferris wheel. I can’t remember the last time I let loose like that, that I let go of caring what other people thought of me.
“I still can’t believe I let you take me around town in my freaking sweat pants.”
“You looked hot in those sweat pants. And I dare you to tell me you didn’t have fun.”
I let my head fall toward him at that, my cheek resting on the paddle board. “I did have fun.”
It’s honest, and Kip raises his brows like he knew that all along. Then, he props himself up on his board, mirroring me as he lays the opposite way, his feet toward the end where my head is. We’re still linked together, our hands wrapped around one another, eyes focused on the sky above.
We talk for a while longer, Kip telling me more about the kind of shows he’d like to write in the future. When the sun is higher in the sky, making me sweat even with my leg in the water, I suggest we head back to shore.
But before I have the chance to even stand fully on my board, Kip tackles me into the water.
“What the hell, Kip?!” I say on a laugh, splashing him when my head is above water again. “You’re such a jerk.”
He’s chuckling, but the laughter dies in both of our throats when he steps into me, one hand finding the small of my back as he pulls me into him. My chest brushes his, my heart hammering so hard at his proximity that I’m sure he feels every beat.
Kip watches me, his eyes halfway hidden under his sunglasses, but I catch the exact moment when he moves a centimeter closer, his mouth on a track for mine. I close my eyes, screaming at myself internally that I should pull away, I should get back on my board, I should get away from him.
His lips brush mine, so softly I almost convince myself I didn’t feel them at all…
And then, that motherfucker snaps my top off with a tug of the string.
I jerk back, hands flying to my chest just before the triangle-shaped fabric slips off. Kip laughs, already retreating toward his board.
“Oh my God! Kip!”
“Race you back!” he yells over his shoulder, and then he’s on his board and half-ass paddling away.
I want to scream, but all I can do is laugh as I hastily re-tie my top and jump on my own board, catching up to him not even a full twenty-yards later. I beat him back to shore without breaking a sweat, and I stand on the beach where the water breaks over the sand, shaking my head at him as he walks his board up.
“You work pretty well with your clothes off,” he teases. Water drips off his chest and down his abdomen, soaking his board shorts. A few droplets sneak under the band of his briefs beneath them, and I’ve never been more jealous of water in my entire life.
“You know you’ll pay for that, right?”
He shrugs. “We’ll see.”
My eyes find the edge of his shorts again, noting the deep V that points down to an area of Kip I can only imagine is as impressive as the rest of him. And though I shouldn’t, I find myself genuinely hoping I do get the chance to pay him back.
There are worse things I could see than Kip Jackson naked.
It’s after noon when Kip clears the dishes from the turkey sandwiches he made us, and I’m back in the kitchen where he fed me pancakes and bacon at four in the morning thinking the exact same thing I thought last time I was here.
I should go.
Truthfully, the words were in my mind when I agreed to come back to his place after we rinsed off our paddle boards. I should have just gone back to the sorority house. But he’d begged me, saying his place is closer, that he wanted to feed me, that it was Sunday and I had nothing better to do, anyway.
Which was true.
So, I agreed, but now that I’m here, fed and sleepy from the sun and from a lack of rest last night, I hear the voice even louder.
I should go.
“Why don’t we take a shower and watch a movie?” Kip suggests.
“I don’t have any clothes here besides the ones I have on now,” I say, my excuse weak. “And they’re all sandy.”
“You can borrow a pair of boxers and a shirt of mine.”
I chew my lip, trying to listen to that little voice inside me when the other, louder one is telling me that a movie with Kip sounds pretty perfect.
“I don’t know, I’m pretty tired,” I finally say, adding a yawn for emphasis.
“So am I,” he says, standing. He reaches for my hands and tugs me up with him. “So maybe we watch a movie and maybe we take a nap.” He shrugs, as if it’s simple. His blue eyes twinkle a little, a mischievous tell as they search mine. “Don’t leave yet. I barely see you during the week and I know there’s not many weekends where you don’t have sorority stuff going on.”
God, if looks could kill. Not that he’s looking at me like he wants to kill me. No, it’s more like he wants to hold me, and kiss me, and get to know me more. But that look kills me more right now. It’s like a rusty, jagged knife straight to the throat. If he knew what I was doing to him, what Erin had planned, he’d hate us.
Both of us.
“I actually have a sisterhood event tonight,” I admit.
“See?” He tugs my wrist, leading me toward his bedroom as alarms go off in my mind like a fucking pinball machine.
His apartment is small — a little studio close to the beach, with nothing but a curtain separating his “bedroom” from his small living area and kitchen. But it’s cozy, and with a keyboard in one corner and various albums spread out on the shelf opposite his bed, it’s very him. Simple, masculine, artsy.
Kip.
Kip drops my hand long enough to rummage through his dresser, pulling free a clean shirt and pair of boxers that he tosses to me without giving me another chance to argue.
He points to the bathroom behind me. “Towels are above the toilet in the cabinet, shampoo and shit’s in there.”
But I can’t move. I’m still trying to convince myself to leave, to run, but I just stand there, instead.
“Come on,” he says, moving toward me until he’s close enough to touch. His fingers reach out, pushing a few strands of my salty hair out of my eyes. “Just for a few hours. You’ll feel better once you shower and I know you’re tired. You’re not going to get any sleep if you go home to your sorority house.”
At that, I let out a long breath and nod. “You’re probably right about that.”
Kip’s smile is that of a winner, and he nudges me toward the bathroom again.
“Fine,” I finally concede, the little voice inside m
e throwing her hands up in surrender. “But just for a little while. And no trying to ambush me in the shower, either,” I warn.
“I promise,” he says, hands held up high. “You can shower in peace.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Mm-hmm.”
He’s still smiling when I finally step inside the bathroom and close the door between us, his eyes disappearing on the other side.
I strip out of my clothes quickly, turning the water all the way hot in his shower before standing in front of the mirror over his bathroom cabinet. I stare at my hollow, tired eyes as the steam fills up the room, sighing with a shake of my head.
“This is not smart,” I whisper, almost in a mocking voice.
Still, I step inside the shower, convincing myself everything will be fine. I’ll rinse off, get dressed in his boxers, in a shirt that smells like him, and then we’ll just lie around. I’ll catch a nap, maybe watch a movie. No harm, no foul.
But before I can even realize how stupid I am for thinking any of that is possible, my entire body freezes at the sound of a soft knock on the door.
I haven’t even pulled his shower curtain closed yet. I’m just standing there, the water hitting my stomach and running down my bare thighs as I turn my head — slowly, carefully — like I’m scared of what I’ll find.
And I should have been scared.
Two bright, turquoise eyes stare at me through a barely-cracked door, and I swallow, not moving to cover myself like I should.
Kip pushes the door open a little farther, but his eyes don’t skate down my naked body. He keeps his gaze locked on my own eyes, swallowing, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as I wait. For what, I’m not sure — an explanation? An invitation? A demand to get the fuck out of here before we both do something we can’t take back?
Erin’s voice pops into my head briefly, just long enough to make my stomach roll before it disappears along with every other rational thought at his next words.
“I suck at keeping promises,” he admits, his voice low, mixing with the sound of the water raining down around me in the shower.
My breath catches, the lump in my throat too hard to swallow past when I admit my own secret to him.
“And I suck at pretending like I don’t want you.”
Kip’s eyelids flutter a little, his jaw ticking under the skin as he moves toward me — slowly, cautiously, like I might bolt if he takes even one step too far.
“You want me?”
I should feel exposed, embarrassed, standing here naked in front of him. But I don’t. I feel wanted, desired, and powerful as hell.
Still, I tremble as I let out something between a laugh and a whimper at the truth. “Kip, I’ve wanted you since the first time I felt your mouth on my skin. Maybe even a little before that.” I press my lips together, knowing I should stop, knowing I should grab the towel hanging on the rack beside Kip and get the hell out of his apartment.
But I can’t.
Not now.
“I hate pretending like I don’t want you,” I whisper. “But I don’t know how to do this. It’s dangerous, you and me. Being together. Like this.” I tell him, wishing I could tell him exactly why it’s dangerous.
But if he knew, if he really knew, he’d hate me.
I already do.
Kip is so close now, his hands reaching forward slowly until they cradle my face between them. I want to sigh, to lean into that touch, but I keep my eyes trained on his.
“This is about Erin, isn’t it?”
At that, my chest deflates like a popped balloon, my knees nearly giving in under the weight.
Shit. He knows. He fucking knows. Oh, God.
Kip shakes his head, his eyes still hard on mine. “Listen, Erin is in the past for me. I’m sure she’s telling you and everyone else to stay away from me, staking her claim — but she doesn’t have a claim over me. I am not hers.”
Another sickening wave washes over me the more he talks. I wish it was that simple, that it was just that she told me to stay away from him. I thought he knew, I thought he somehow figured out her plan, but he has no idea.
He has no idea how important my sorority is to me — my sisters, my line, my Big and my Little, my legacy as future president. He has no idea how much power Erin holds, or how much I love her, how much I would do anything for her — even this. Even as much as it hurts. Because she’s one of my best friends.
They’ve always said, sisters before misters. And it’s been easy, up until now, to follow that rule.
But staring at Kip, feeling his hands on me, I don’t know how not to break that rule now.
“You don’t understand,” I say, my voice shaking. How do I even begin to explain it to him?
“I do,” he interrupts, lifting my chin. “Are you going to let her dictate who you like? Who you touch? Just because she’s your Big, because she’s president of your sorority?”
“It’s so much more than that,” I try, ripping my gaze from his. “It would be easier if you just let me go, if we just stopped this right now. We could save a lot of hurt, a lot of pain.”
“Skyler,” he says on a huff. He lifts my chin again, forcing me to look at him when I’m trying to do anything but. “I want you. If what you said is true just now, then you want me, too. I don’t care about Erin, I don’t care about your sorority or my fraternity — not right now. Right now, I care about the fact that you’re here, with me, in my shower, and I want you.”
The hand not holding my chin in place slips down, down, over my arm to hold my naked waist.
“Now,” he breathes. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you want me to stop.”
His hand drops a little lower, his fingertip brushing over my clit so softly, so lightly, I inhale a warm, steamy breath and don’t let it go.
“Tell me to let you go. Tell me to stop, Skyler.”
I can’t stop shaking, my eyes watching his as I try to find the right words to get me out of the hell I’m currently burning in. Erin will be devastated if she even finds out this much has happened, let alone anything else. I knew her well before Kip, before he came in and flipped my entire world upside down.
I owe it to my Big to stop. Right now.
But the truth slips from my mouth in a whisper, and I know I’ll have to suffer the consequences.
“I can’t.”
Kip shakes his head. “You have to tell me to stop, Skyler, or I won’t be able to. Once I feel you, once I taste you, I won’t be able to stop then. If you don’t want this, you have to tell me now.”
But I do want this.
And that’s all I hold onto, that simple truth, no matter how fucked up and selfish it is.
“I want this. I want you.”
And just like that, with those six, simple, unapologetic words, all bets are off between me and Kip Jackson.
My hands are in his hair before I can register that I told them to go there, pulling and tugging, his lips hard on mine as Kip pushes me against the shower wall. He’s inside the shower with me in the next second, still in his board shorts, not taking the time to strip them off before letting the water crash down on him, too. Steam swirls around us, our breaths making it heavier — hands touching, lips kissing, tongues licking. We’re a mess of sighs and moans, the kiss without a doubt the most passionate one of my life.
I’ve never been a believer in love at first sight. It sounds crazy to even consider that I could be in love with Kip. But the way I feel with his lips on mine, the foreign, never-before-felt electricity that buzzes through me every single time we touch — it has to be a sign. It’s not just because he’s forbidden, because he’s technically off limits to me — if it was, I wouldn’t have felt it that first night he sucked tequila off my stomach. And it’s not just because he’s quite possibly the sexiest man I’ve ever known, with his icy blue eyes, his perfectly mussed hair, his strong, stubble-lined jaw. No, it’s something more — something unexplainable, something I’m sure I’ll never quite figure out.
Pinning my wrists above my head, Kip slides two fingers inside me quickly, the movement easy and fluid as he fills me to the hilt. I suck in a breath, the rush of blood heavy in my head before it all rushes straight back to where his fingers are buried deep inside. His cock strains against the wet fabric of his shorts into my stomach as his fingers work, steady and smooth, his mouth sucking and biting up and down my neck.
Thoughts are fleeting, all sense of time and rationality lost the more Kip touches me. I can’t even touch him back, not with my wrists pinned above my head, so I just wrap my hands into fists and hold on, letting everything I feel escape in breathy moans through my parted lips.
Kip moans his approval as his kisses fall lower, and his eyes find mine just as he sucks one tender, puckered nipple between his teeth. My back arches off the wet wall, into the hot stream of water, and the new angle of Kip’s hand has his palm giving my clit just the friction it needs.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathe, almost a whimper, maybe a plea. “Kip. Yes. More.”
The moment the word leaves my mouth, I realize that’s exactly what I want. What I need.
More.
Ripping my wrists free, I immediately grab the strings on Kip’s board shorts, untying them in an instant before I tug the shorts over his hips. The deep V I admired from above the hem of his shorts shoots down farther, the lean muscle framing where I want to see him most. And when the shorts fall into a wet heap at his feet, his hard-on springs forward, granting my wish with more enthusiasm than I could have imagined.
I’ve seen enough cocks to know a good one when it’s in front of me, and Kip’s is so hard, so long and thick, the head of it glistening with just a drop of pre-cum, that I nearly lose my mind with the want to drop to my knees and take him inside my mouth. I want to taste every inch of it, feel that perfectly mushroomed head hitting the back of my throat, lick up the thick vein lining the top.
When I reach forward, wrapping one hand around him with a firm grip, Kip’s hand stills inside me, his fingers immobilized.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans. His hips flex forward as I roll my hand from his tip to his base, slow at first before picking up rhythm as the water helps lubricate each pump.
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