Page 57 of The Summer I First Saw You
Daisy
Oddly, that’s not much of an improvement. I’m nearly home. Chill.
I go upstairs and pace the family room, watching the road until a car stops in front of the house and Daisy climbs out of the back. A moment later she is clambering up the stairs in the same oversized sweatshirt she always wears.
But there’s also a hint of makeup, which she almost never wears.
I swallow. “You went out?”
She sets her keys on the counter and lifts a piece of paper. “I left you a note,” she replies.
I was too agitated to even look for a note. “Where’d you go?” I snap.
Her arms fold across her chest. “How very paternal you’re acting, under the circumstances. And how demanding, given that you couldn’t even bother to answer my text. I went to a bar with a few of the guys who surf across the street and took an Uber home.”
I’m the one who told her she should have a social life. I’m the one who suggested she should probably fuck around for a little while. But it turns out I was full of shit because I can’t stand the idea of her dating, and I sure as hell can’t stand the idea of herfucking around.
I fill a glass with ice, pour the bourbon to the top, and take a healthy swallow. “Was it a date?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know that tonight was a date, but one of the guys asked me out to dinner tomorrow.”
Pressure builds at the back of my head, dimming the sides of my vision. I set the bourbon down too hard on the counter. Liquor seeps from the bottom of the glass, and I don’t give a shit.
“I mean, that’s okay, right?” she asks, pouring herself aglass of water from the fridge. “You were the one who suggested it, and it seemed like the best way to keep your virtue safe.”
I’m supposed to sayyes. I’m supposed to ask what kind of guy he is and insist that she drive herself just in case. But I can’t fucking stand the idea of anyone seeing her the way she was last night. I can’t stand to have her saying, “I was thinking about how tight it would be” to anyone but me.
The thought sends every ounce of responsibility I’ve ever possessed flying out the window.
“No,” I say, stepping toward her. I take the water from her hand and set it on the counter before I press her to the refrigerator. “No, Daisy. It’s not fucking okay.”
And then I kiss her. I kiss her hard, the way I wanted to last night. The way I’ve wanted to every goddamn day since she arrived. Her mouth is even softer than I pictured it would be, and when it opens beneath mine, the desire for more hits me like a hammer. It’s as if every version of myself who’s been denied over these past few weeks has formed an army and is storming the castle. I will never get enough of her tongue, her inhales, her curves beneath me.
My hand slides inside her sweatshirt to cup one breast through her bra, decadently heavy in my grasp. God, the number of times I’ve dreamed of doing this…hundreds? Thousands? She gasps as my palm glides over one nipple, then the other.
Jesus fucking Christ. I never imagined myself to have a particular type, but I do, and that type is Daisy. It’s the exact weight of her breasts in my hands, the tiny waist, how tight and wet she’ll be when I’m finally inside her. Her proportions defy logic, and being with her is going to ruin me for other women, but so be it.
“We need to close the curtains,” I grunt, grinding against her helplessly as her hand reaches for my belt. We should go tomy room, but I can’t. I can’t wait the length of time it would take to get her up the stairs.
“Just hit the lights,” she says, as impatient as I am.
I find her mouth again, pushing her shorts to the floor. “No. Lights on. I want to watch you stretch to take every fucking inch of me.”
“Alrighty then,” she says, pulling my belt free at last. I groan as her hand slides into my pants and grips me. “Forget about the curtains. Let everyone watch.”
I want to agree to this because I’m already so hard it hurts, but the sight of her naked is something I want to keep to myself, always.
“Couch,” I growl against her mouth. “Now.”
I march to the far wall to hit the curtains, and she saunters to the couch, removing her sweatshirt as she walks. I move fast toward her, pulling her against me, finding her mouth again.
Her fingers tug at my tie then start to work on the buttons of my shirt. I need her skin against mine faster than she can get it there. Buttons skitter across the floor as I wrench the shirt off myself.
She reaches inside my boxers and I have to stop her, jaw grinding as I try to regain control. “Give me a minute, Daisy, or this just won’t last.” I pull the tank over her head. She reclines on the couch in nothing but her panties.
Fuck. Yes. She is definitely going to ruin me for anyone after her.
“Take everything off,” she purrs. “I want to see you.”
