Page 66 of Until Next Summer

“Got another idea?” he asks, his voice thick with desire and the tiniest hint of impatience.

We spot the ironically named Yacht Club at the same time and make a run for the wooden shanty, where the life jackets, oars, and other water gear are stored.

Inside, the light is on, a single bulb hanging from a wire. It casts long shadows around the room, which in any other circumstances would give me the heebie-jeebies. But I’m too turned on to be scared.

Fully committed to our plan, I rush over to lock the door—and realize that the lock is on the other side; it’s intended to keep people out, not in.

“Shit,” I mutter.

“It’s fine,” Cooper murmurs behind me, taking my earlobe in his mouth, sucking gently. A moan bubbles out ofmy throat, which is all the encouragement he needs. He turns me so my back is against the door and his lips are on mine. His kiss is urgent, hungry. As he makes my mouth his, I go slack in his arms, my hands splayed on his chest. I can feel the rhythm of his heart, and I want to make it go even faster.

Slowly, I move my hands lower until I find the button of his shorts. It comes undone easily, and as they drop to his ankles, I drop down, too. I reach for his boxers, dragging my fingers lightly over the bulge of him.

Cooper bites his lower lip, and I smile up at him as I hook my thumbs inside his waistband. But before I can free him from the fabric prison of his boxers, he pulls me back up to my feet.

“Hold on,” he says.

I take a step back, afraid I did something wrong. But he just smiles and says, “We’ve been following your rules for this fling, but I’ve got some of my own. And the number one rule is—”

“Honesty,” I say, getting restless. “You already told me.”

“That’s the number two rule,” Cooper says. “The number one rule is: ladies first.”

Oh.Oh.

Cooper swoops me up and into his arms, cupping my butt with his big, strong hands. I wrap my legs around his waist, heat rushing to my core. He walks us toward the workbench at the far end of the room, moving debris away with one hand while he supports me with the other.

Once a space is clear, he sets me down gently. I glance toward the unlocked door, shocked—and a little impressed—that I’m actually going through with this.

Cooper must read the anxiety on my face, because he says, “You’re in control, remember? Nothing happens unless you want it.”

“I want it,” I say immediately. “I want all of it.”

His lips quirk in a tiny, pleased grin. “Well then. I’ve got you.”

For some crazy reason, I believe him. More than that, I trust him.

Cooper steps between my legs and kisses me, more gently than before. This is good; this I know. As his tongue teases mine, his hands slip under the back of my shirt, lifting it up and over my head.

He looks down, admiring me.

“You are so beautiful,” he says, moving his lips to my shoulder. He playfully bites down, and I gasp as his fingers unhook the back of my bra. It falls to the table, and he turns his attention to my breasts, taking one nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while cupping my other breast with his hand. “I’ve been wanting to do this since that first day. Your towel…”

He switches sides, and I close my eyes, savoring the sensation of his wet mouth and persistent tongue as I run my fingers through the soft waves of his hair. When I’m somewhere between satiated and frustrated, desperate for more, Cooper drops lower, trailing kisses down my belly while his fingers undo my shorts. They come off, followed by my underwear.

“Scootch forward,” he says, and I obey. I’ll do anything this man asks me to do.

Cooper slides me forward a little more and I grimace, hoping the wood under my bare butt doesn’t give mesplinters. He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, then kisses the inside of my thigh. I hum with pleasure as he gets closer to the spot where I want him.

Then he’s there. I’m there. On the edge. Cooper works magic with his tongue as he slips a finger inside me.Holy hell.

“Do you like that?” he asks in a husky whisper.

“I like it,” I say through a moan. “I like it a lot.” My hands fumble, searching for something to hold on to for fear of falling off the workbench. I grasp on to what turns out to be a life jacket, for all the good that does me. I toss it to the side, aware that I’m drowning in pleasure.

Another moan escapes my lips, and Cooper looks up from between my legs, his eyebrows lifting in appreciation of my appreciation.

“Don’t stop,” I plead. He listens, sliding another finger inside me, working in tandem with his tongue as the tension builds until—fireworks. I don’t just see them; I am them. I cry out, a puddle of nonwords, noises, moans. Sounds I’ve heard while watching porn with Aaron or listening to Zac and Zoey on the other side of the wall; sounds I’ve never heard coming from my own mouth.

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