My mind screams for me to stop him. Stop the world. Stop the waves. Stop everything.
Logic buzzes around my head like tiny cartoon thought bubbles.
“This is wrong!”
“You’ll regret this!”
“He will never be yours!”
But my body...
My fucking, traitorous, selfish body.
It’s so alive.
It’s pulsating with energy. With fire.
With Grayson.
His mouth engulfs mine. His hands rake over me. His heart pounds in my ears.
My knees buckle and I’m going down, down, down. But I never fall. Grayson’s arms wrap around me, shielding me, catching me, lowering me into the sand. He hovers over me for a few breathless moments before the weight of his body descends, covering me like a hot blanket.
My legs involuntarily spread, my feet wrapping around the backs of his thighs as I press my palms against the bare skin of his back.
His fingers drape against my cheek, urging my mouth open wider as his tongue explores every corner, every crevice. My hips rise, crushing into him, begging him to go deeper, search farther, find everything.
He tugs forcefully on the straps of my dress. They both snap in his strong hands and fall uselessly against my shoulders. He pulls at the neckline, coaxing it down my back until it’s just a rumpled heap around my waist.
He stops kissing me long enough to stare down at me, his face made visible by the pale blue/gray glint of the moon. His eyes close for the briefest of moments as he lets out a sigh that sounds like a plea for help.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” he asks, the ocean breeze stealing the last syllable away and carrying it down the beach.
His mouth descends hungrily again, landing on my collarbone. His tongue traces the ridge of it, sending shivers of bliss rippling outward. His lips kiss a path across the tops of my breasts as he lets out a deep, guttural moan.
Then his fingers snake underneath me, forcing my back into an arch, bringing my breasts closer to him as his tongue finds my left nipple and his fingertips find my right. Together, they play in perfect harmony, inspiring every atom in my body to sing.
The hand under my back compels me closer to him, urging my tingling nipple deeper into his wet mouth.
“Grayson,” I gasp.
The sound of his own name seems to ratchet up his desire for me even more. I can feel the hardness between his legs throbbing eagerly against my thigh, pleading to be let out.
I reach down and fumble for his belt, yanking the strap out of the loop. My hands are so desperate to get to him, I feel like I could rip right through the leather.
I push myself up and rest my palm on his bare chest, shoving him onto his back. I dive for his mouth as I thrust my hand down his shorts.
His entire body shudders beneath me as I take him in my palm and squeeze. Gently at first. Teasing. And then with more purpose.
He lets out a slow groan as I begin to stroke him.
My tongue presses into his mouth and his hand weaves through my hair.
I continue to pull and fondle and taunt as his body convulses beneath me. His head tips back, falling away from my lips, and he opens his eyes. Our gazes connect and a surge of raw energy streams between us.
Then a sly smile dances across his face as he reaches down and removes my hand from beneath his shorts.
“No,” he says softly, cupping my cheek in his palm. “You.”
And before I can think, I’m on my back again. His mouth is maneuvering from the bottom of my breasts, across my stomach, and toward the crumpled top of my dress. He reaches down, finds the bottom hem and shoves it up until it’s also around my waist.
He slides one hand down my hip bone, following the edge of my panties. His fingertip hesitates, testing the boundaries, flicking against the seam.
I tremble with anticipation and let out a tiny cry as he slips beneath the fabric, stroking me gently—almost cautiously. His mouth still lingers on my stomach and I push down against his head in response, wanting more. So much more.
Always more.
His finger sinks inside of me. My lips fall open. A gasp erupts. Reverberates through the dark night.
He rises to cover my mouth with his as I writhe and twist and moan into him, the waves of pleasure rocking me like a helpless dingy on a stormy sea. His finger surges deeper, throbbing, fluttering, pulsing. I clench around it, the edges of everything in my field of vision shimmering in and out of focus.
The steady, adamant rhythm of his hand is intoxicating. I buck my hips against it and he quickens his pace. I tilt my head back, desperately sucking at the ocean air, attempting to breathe against the dizzying swirl of his touch.
He grunts and recaptures my mouth in his, reclaiming me with his soft, searching lips. I tangle my tongue around his as he thrusts another finger deep inside.
My body splinters into a thousand tiny slivers, as fine and numerous as the grains of sand at my back. The pressure is smearing my thoughts. The beautiful ache is causing every muscle in my body to coil like a spring, ready to burst.
His mouth releases mine and I cry out, the sound quickly swallowed by the gentle hum of the waves. And then he’s moving. Descending. My skin prickling as the stubble on his face grazes over my breasts, my stomach, my thigh.
I whimper quietly as his fingers pull free and he’s tugging on my panties, sliding them down, down, off. My inner thighs quiver as his mouth teases its way across my hip bones, tickling, tasting, imprinting on my skin.
He grabs my knees, forcing my legs further apart, and burying his head between them. When his tongue finally laps against me, the world implodes. The sand disappears under my back, the stars in the sky twinkle out, the ocean breeze stops blowing. There is only the sweet texture of his tongue against me, splitting every cell in my body in two, drizzling every inch of my skin in glimmering raindrops of ecstasy.
Grayson’s fingers slip back inside me and I feel my body hurtling toward the edge, building toward one final, gratifying shudder. The coils tighten, preparing to spring me into blissful oblivion. Every part of me is ready: my tingling skin, my clenched muscles, my quickening pulse.
But when I close my eyes, surrendering myself to the precipice below, suddenly all I see is her.
Alex.
Her satisfied smug in the bathroom, as she stood up and wiped Grayson from her mouth. Her sparkling grin as she waved her engagement ring across the table. Her provocative moans as she seduced him over and over again in the bedroom next door.
Everything comes crashing to a halt. I sit up with a jolt, pushing him from between my legs, and scramble to my feet. I yank the hem of my dress down over my hips, and try to pull the neckline up to cover my bare breasts. Then I bend down to scoop up my underwear, crumpling it in my hands.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” Grayson is on his knees, gazing up at me, his breaths ragged.
I fling the broken straps of my dress over my shoulders but they do nothing to hold it up, so I’m forced to grip the fabric between my fingers.
“What the fuck are we doing?” I pant.
Grayson looks taken aback, as though it’s the last thing in the world he expected me to say. But I think it’s a pretty fair question.
“What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean?” I shoot back. “What is this?”
He wilts, acknowledging how wrong it is. “I don’t know. I just...I can’t get you out of my head. I can’t stop—”
“But you’re engaged! To my sister!”
A dark shadow clouds his expression. “You think I don’t know that!?”
“I don’t know what you know anymore. You kiss me like you’ve forgotten all about her. You...do things to me like she doesn’t exist.”
“When I’m with you, she doesn’t,” he admits miserably. “I don’t understand it.”
“We can’t keep doing this,” I say, my voice breaking into a whisper. A cry. The truth is bitter and refreshing and wretched and liberating all at the same time.
“I know.”
I watch him vigilantly. He looks like a little boy. So confused. So wounded. So vulnerable.
“What do you want?” I ask him, point-blank. I can’t believe the words that are coming out of me right now. They’re too direct—too confident—to be mine.
He rubs his chin. “I—” he starts to say. “I want this.” He motions to the sand where the imprint of my body still lies.
My soul rejoices at the words, but I’m careful to keep my exhilaration in check. It’s not that easy. There are too many emotions tied up in his answer. Too many towers that have to crumble to the ground before it can be real.
“Don’t you?” he asks.
I close my eyes, letting the release of an eight-year-old secret shudder through me. “Yes.”
I know it’s not enough.
I know it doesn’t even begin to describe the agony that I’ve kept locked inside for nearly a decade. But it’s a place to start. A cautious one.
Because I’m still not ready to throw caution to the wind.
“What about Alex?” I press him.
He pushes his fingertips into his forehead, cringing. “I don’t know.”
The sting is immediate. Like a sneak attack from a thousand wasps. The venom is released into my bloodstream. The poison starts to eat away at my hope, my confidence, my joy.
“You love her,” I offer up the truth for him, scolding myself the second it’s out of my mouth.
Why would I remind him?
Why would I make it so easy?
The answer is almost instantaneous.
Because he has to decide. And because I don’t want to be an uninformed choice.
“Yes,” he replies quietly. Agonizingly.
“You’ve always loved her.” The words are sour in my throat. Soaked in acid.
He looks away. “It’s complicated. With Alex. She has this hold over me. This...spell. I can’t get out from under it. I’ve tried. And I keep coming back to her. I keep wanting to.” He draws in a breath, raises his gaze to me. Finds me. “I...I’m sorry.”
I feel my heart start to crack. The familiar ache of longing flutters through me. Except this time it’s worse. Because this time he knows.
He felt the way my body responded to him.
He saw the way I reached for his touch, hungered for his mouth, moaned for him to take me. All of me.
This time I can’t hide from the misery behind a pair of headphones and a closed door. I can’t pretend that this doesn’t destroy me.
And I certainly can’t go on, knowing that I will continue to be second place. Second choice. That Alex will always have a massive, permanent claim on Grayson Walker’s heart.
But honestly, what did I expect? For him to cast my sister aside after a cheap hook-up session on the beach? That a few minutes of passion with someone like me could erase nearly a decade of being in love with someone like Alex?
“I’m sorry, too,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m really fucking sorry.”
“Lia,” he begins to argue, his voice fragile and pleading.
But I hold up a hand to stop him from even trying. “Don’t follow me.”
I turn and take off down the beach. I don’t know where I’m going but I can’t stay here. There’s nothing about this place that’s safe anymore.