I flick my eyes to meet his. “Dad, I told you I don’t know what I’m doing yet.”
His frown is quicksand. “Speaking of which.” He walks away and returns a minute later, dropping a stack of mail onto the varnished pine table. “For you.”
I shove aside my uneaten pizza and reach for the stack, rifling through it idly. A clothing store coupon that expired last month. A credit card offer. A letter from school—one with my name neatly typed on the envelope and an official-looking seal pressed onto the front. I slide my finger under the flap and find it’s already opened.
Betrayal stings my chest, and something sour happens in my throat.
“You opened my mail?”
I clutch the letter to my heart as if holding tighter is going to change the fact that my dad’s acting like he still gets to know everything about me and my life.
Thank god he can’t read minds—can’t see the way I’m imagining Blake here defending me.
“Needed to know if it was important.” My dad shrugs. “It was.”
I unfold the note and skim its contents, reading what my dad already knows. I’ve got a week to let school know if I plan to return to campus or I forfeit my housing deposit for next year.
I feel the blood drain from my cheeks. “I thought I had more time.”
My dad cocks his head at me. “What’s there to decide? You’re going to want that degree no matter what.” He pulls a small, square box and one last envelope from behind his back and hands them to me. “Maybe this will help.”
I open the envelope first. The birthday card inside leaves a fine coating of pink glitter on my fingers, so when I open the box, I get sparkles all over the white ceramic mug nested inside. The mug reads Diagram of a Medical Student Brain, and the picture of the human brain on its glossy surface is divided up like one of those phrenology brains—each section labeled eat, sleep, study, think about studying.
“Thanks, Dad.” My voice croaks a little.
For a long time, I agreed to the Pre-Med route because I thought maybe becoming a doctor would finally make me enough in his eyes. Maybe it would help me save him from himself, save us. But he only wants me to keep going because of what it would mean to him, not what it would mean to me. If I become who everyone wants me to be, will there be anything left over for myself? Will I like that version of McKenna, or will she be another stranger who’s hollow inside?
I shove away my food and stand up, heading for the door. “Thanks again, Dad.” I press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll take care of the mail, but I’ve gotta get back.”
He waves a hand at my plate. “You didn’t eat anything.”
“That’s okay.” I force a smile. “I’m not as hungry as I thought.”
* * *
It’s almost seven thirty when I return to the island, the air thick and salty on the back of my neck. As I drive over the bridge, a seagull flies ahead of me like a silent guide, and I’ve never been more grateful for my wheels to be on this little patch of land.
“Everything go okay?” Blake asks when I walk into the beach house’s living room. He sits on the couch, trying to look interested in something happening on his phone, but I catch the way he studies me when I look away.
It’s okay because I’m studying him, too, watching his arms flex under the muscles of his T-shirt, the tattoos dancing over all that taut, golden skin. His hair’s slightly wet as if he just took a shower, and the damp, clean sight of him makes me feel instantly better.
Instead of answering, I hand Blake the mug.
He reads it and winces, then sets it carefully on the coffee table. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, and I cut him off with a whisper.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He nods once and reaches for me with the edge of his thumb. His touch on my hip is gentle and steadying and dizzying all at once. “You know what always makes me feel better when I’m having a rough time?”
I twist my lips to the side, so many possibilities flashing through my mind.
“Going for a ride in the Jeep.” He must see something in my smile because he shakes his head with a teasing look. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
I hold up my hands, bat my eyelashes innocently. “I didn’t say a word. But you like that car way too much for your own good.”
“Come on. We can still catch the sunset.” He grabs me around my waist and lifts me over his shoulder, his fingers tickling my sides and making me gasp.
The blood rushes to my head as I hang upside down. “You like this position, don’t you?”
“Your ass near my face? Hell yes, I do.”
Blake carries me across the room to the foot of the stairs, then drops me onto the first step. “Go change out of your work clothes, Flower Girl. You’ve got five minutes before the train leaves.”
I snort at him, but I smile as I mount the stairs and shed my pizza-scented outfit to change into a tank top and a pair of cutoff shorts. When I get back downstairs, Blake’s standing by the door holding a thick blanket and a thermos. I follow him to the car, and we ride in comfortable silence toward the south end of the island.
At the farthest point south, I reach for the door handle, expecting Blake to park on the gravel cul-de-sac, but he drives the Jeep right onto the dunes. I shriek with laughter and the vehicle growls gamely, bumping along the uneven terrain until Blake pulls it to a stop. Out the front window, we’ve got a wide open view of the ocean, the sky pastel pink and gold and blue. The sand looks like powder, and I long to dig my feet into it.
“God, it’s gorgeous,” I say.
“It is.”
I turn at the deep, seductive note in Blake’s voice and realize he’s looking at me and not the sunset. I swallow hard and open the door, filling my lungs with the smell of the ocean and the mineral scent of the sand. It’s easier to breathe when I don’t feel like my heart is squashing my lungs, and the cooling sand shocks me into the right now.
Blake follows me out of the car, grabbing his gear from the back seat and shutting the door behind him. I prop myself against the front bumper as I wait for him, the Jeep ticking quietly as it cools.
We’re alone on this spear of land, and I’m exactly where I need to be. I don’t need to be back in school or with my dad or even in a flower shop. I need to be right here with this man who looks and me and doesn’t judge. Who sees my unfinished edges and matches his unfinished edges with mine.
A shocked giggle bubbles out of me as Blake spreads the blanket over the hood of the Jeep and climbs on top.
“Really?” I ask.
He reaches a hand for me, and I take it, letting him lift me up. His strength makes me remember the feel of his body on mine, in mine, and I blush as a wave of arousal spills through my body.
“Good?” Blake asks beside me.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
He twists off the cap of the thermos, and my mouth waters at the scent of fresh coffee.
“Is that decaf?” I venture.
“Nope.” He flashes a dazzling grin that I feel between my legs, all heat and need. “But I’m going to keep you up all night anyway. Might as well indulge.”
I shake my head, but the promise of spending another night with him makes it impossible not to smile. I kind of had an idea of how he felt about me, but hearing him say it makes my stomach swoop.
I accept the mug of coffee Blake hands me, then lift it in a silent toast and drink, buzzing and alive and happy.
God, I’m happy.
This, right here, might be all I need.
“When I’m with you, nothing can hurt me.” I say it quietly, like a confession. “I’m exactly who I want to be.”
Blake wraps an arm around me and pulls me so close I can feel his heartbeat through my side.
“Ditto,” he whispers into my hair. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and something in my throat gets so thick I need to blink hard to hold back tears.
Don’t let this end.
Please let it be real.
We sit there for a long time, passing a mug of coffee between us and watching the sun sink into the sea. We stay out until the first stars dot the evening sky. In the safety of Blake’s arms, the sharp edges of the day smooth away like a bad dream. The dull pain of my visit with my dad is still there, but it’s better. It’s better.
With Blake things are so, so good.
24
Blake
July
McKenna Maycomb is a Sunday kind of girl—the kind you can wake up next to for the rest of your life. The kind you want to keep waking up next to because she feels like the best parts of a lazy weekend. Having her in my bed, on my chest, is my new favorite way to greet the morning.
I run a hand down McKenna’s back the moment her eyes open after the night in the Jeep. Her skin feels soft under my fingertips, and she smiles at me like the sun.
It’s scary how fast I’ve gone from fighting this thing between us to sinking all the way into it, but it’s like her happiness is a mirror showing me just how stupid I’ve been for running away from something that makes me happy, too.
“You hungry?” I ask.
She rolls onto her side and props herself up on one elbow. “Do you even need to ask?”
I shake my head, and she laughs and swings her legs out of bed. “Don’t worry,” she calls to me as she sweeps downstairs. “I’m cooking.”
I smile at the ceiling before throwing on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and when I get to the kitchen, McKenna has her head stuck in the fridge, her ass swaying as she surveys its contents. She’s only wearing one of my T-shirts and a pair of gray cotton underwear, and the sight of her long, sculpted legs makes my pulse race.
I take the seat closest to the refrigerator to admire the view.
McKenna’s birthday bouquet still sits on the kitchen table, perfuming the air. Two thousand four hundred and eighty-six likes on the Instagram picture she posted of it, not that I’m counting. When she makes this business a real thing, she’s going to kill it, but right now I’m too distracted by her curves to tell her that.
“Keep swinging that butt around and I’m going to smack it.”
Me, Tarzan. You, Jane.
McKenna looks over her shoulder at me and grins, then turns back to the fridge and continues dancing.
God, this woman.
Always testing me. Seeing how far I’ll go.
I reach out and lay a palm on one round, delectable ass cheek, then give it a gentle smack.
“Blake!” McKenna whirls, her eyes wide with surprise but also dark with arousal.
“I make a promise, I’m going to keep it.”
“Hmm,” she purrs, considering. Her cheeks are pink and flushed, and wisps of blond hair tumble out of her topknot.
I reach around McKenna and rub her curves gently. Then I slip a hand down the seam of her ass, then further still, until my arm is wrapped around her, my mouth near her breasts and my fingertips brushing her slick pussy from behind.
It’s not just that I can feel her arousal, I can see it—her light gray underwear dark and damp between her legs. My cock goes hard at the sight of it.
“I thought we were making breakfast,” she murmurs.
I shake my head, focused on the rhythm of my fingers, the sight of that wet cotton. “The only thing I’m hungry for is you.”
Without thinking, I hook my thumbs under the waistband of her panties and pull them down her legs. She steps out of them with a little gasp, balancing herself on my shoulders.
Her fingers follow the line of the scar on my right shoulder, the scar that led me here, and she holds my eyes while something big and unspoken passes between us.
I would go through it again to get to you.
I don’t say it then, because it’s too much, but I feel it. A throb of acknowledgment. A giving in. And then everything is a rush.
I run my finger back and forth along McKenna’s slit, trying to figure out just how crazy I can get her.
“Stove!” she gasps.
I stand long enough to slap it off before I fall to my knees in front of her. The hard linoleum is unforgiving, but I don’t fucking care. I need her with an urgency like a freight train.
I bury my head between her legs, the damp heat of her thighs, licking and tasting. Finding the tight bud of nerves like a cherry pit, pulling it into my mouth. She’s breakfast, she’s dessert, she’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
“God, Blake.” McKenna’s body spasms under my touch, responding to my relentless attention.
The salt of her ocean wet on my lips.
The view from between her legs.
I’m so damn lucky to be here.
I slide a finger next to my tongue, bury it inside her.
I need to be deeper for her.
I need to be deeper for me.
If I could just crawl inside this moment, everything else might just fall away.
McKenna groans and reaches for the edge of the kitchen table, steadying herself. “More.” Her hips churn.
I love this greedy side of her—the one that stops thinking and worrying and just asks for what she wants. And if I’m what she wants, hell yeah, I’m going to give it to her.
I grab one of her feet and prop it on my abandoned chair, spreading her like a buffet. She’s open for me—the curve of her hips, the swell of her sex—and I slide my tongue and fingers back inside. Pulsing like the tide. Giving her my whole attention—my whole heart.
Her clit swells, the tide rising.
Our moans and pants fill the tiny kitchen, and this is dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. The windows are open and anyone could see us, but I’m past the point of caring. I thought I wanted her before, but it’s more than that now. I need her.
McKenna’s stomach shakes as she rides my face hard now, demanding friction. I pull in a breath and look up the plane of her body. Her head’s tossed back, her hair a mess, and she looks like she’s on the brink of ecstasy.
I want to take her there.
More than I’ve ever wanted to win a lacrosse game.
More than I’ve ever wanted to lose myself to drugs.
All my life, alcohol and drugs were an escape from reality and pressure. But being present, being right here with McKenna? There’s nothing to run away from. There’s only running to her. With her. For her.
I reach a free hand up her body, skimming under my shirt she’s still wearing so I can grab one of her breasts. Her nipples are hard under my touch, and her body stiffens.
“Blake.” Her voice is tremblingly perfect.
I circle my tongue on her clit, smile against her sex.
“Oh. Ohhh, yes, please.”
I keep stroking her with my tongue, devoted to this moment, this purest pursuit. McKenna’s breath is a symphony and my heart bangs like a drum, and when her body clamps down around my fingers and she lets go, neither of us has ever been more alive.
“Fuck, Blake, yes,” she cries, and then the rest is wordless and happy and satisfied.
I press a damp kiss to the inside of her thigh. Then I sit back on my heels and look at up at her just to find she’s looking at me with bright eyes.
God, she’s gorgeous.
Mine.
“More?” she asks, looking at the outline of my cock, pressed hard against my shorts.
God, I want to. I want to fuck her until neither of us can stand. I want to fuck her until I’m the only thing she sees behind her eyelids, until my name is the same word she uses for pleasure. But I also want to be the kind of man who gives without taking. Who gives just because I can.
“Later.” I take in her shattered body, proud of the joy and exhaustion on her face. “Right now you need to get your ass back upstairs and get dressed or I’m going do that again, and first we both need food.”
Her eyes sparkle, and she kisses me on the mouth, slow and hot and wanting. Her arms circle my neck and her hands scrape through my hair like she’s trying to change my mind.
“I see what you’re doing there.” My voice comes out thick and gravelly, but there’s no heat behind it. “Go.”
She twirls out of my reach and exits, leaving a pile of gray fabric on the kitchen floor.
I grin at the underwear and bend down to grab them. Shove them into my back pocket. I might need to hold these hostage for a while. In the meantime, there’s breakfast to make.
I adjust my cock, telling it to calm down so I can get to work. Then I turn the stove back on and pull ingredients out of the fridge—a couple of eggs, a few slices of ham, a wedge of cheese.
Where’s the cheese grater?
I open a few drawers until I reach the drawer closest to the kitchen door. It protests as I pull it, something jamming inside and preventing it from opening all the way.
I slide my fingers into the drawer and unwedge a stack of papers causing the jam.
Not just papers.
Envelopes.
Mail.
I pull out the envelopes and set them on the counter, then free the trapped cheese grater.
“Blake?”
I turn and find McKenna staring at the pile of mail.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“Your mail was boobytrapping the drawer.”
Her face colors and a little furrow runs between her eyes.
I pause at the look on her face. “I didn’t read it or anything.”
She holds out a palm for the mail, and I hand it to her, but not before I catch the university seal on one of the envelopes.
It hits me in the gut.
No matter what else happens, no matter how many morning orgasms I can give her, there’s a ticking time bomb on this thing. McKenna and school. Me and Hailey and my house.
Fuck.
I lean my back against the edge of the counter, run a hand through my hair. McKenna just clutches the mail to her chest and steps outside into the pale morning air.
I give her a few minutes before I follow her to the garden. I find her in the dirt, pulling weeds from the earth and tossing them into a pile on the gravel yard. The air smells like green plants and blue ocean, like the day could turn into anything.
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