Page 37 of The Last Kind of Kiss
Tears freckle her lower lashes, resplendent beneath the cabin lights. “I wanted you to be that guy too. But you showed me you couldn’t be.”
“Then let me prove to you I can.”
Lila hiccups, her long, flowing locks whipping across her now-flushed face. There’s a storm approaching the shore of her blue eyes, one that calls for endless rain. “I hate that I still miss being around you.”
Guilt overrides my bruised ego, and my mouth wilts into a frown. “I’m still the same person,” I state rockily, cotton clotting my throat.
“I know. That’s the problem.”
I relinquish her arm, and I sit on the bed with a sigh that feels like it’s been trapped in my chest for years. Silence encompasses the room, punctuated by the gentle rocking of waves beneath us. Lila’s footsteps are light as they shuffle over to me, and she occupies the seat next to me.
Neither of us say anything for a long time. Neither of us know what to say to make things better. We’re both…we’re both fighting the same battle that we fought a year ago. And with no clear victor, we’re going to continue fighting until the other’s covered in enough bloody wounds to plead mercy.
We’re going to be fake dating for months. I can’t keep sidestepping the truth. She’ll find out eventually, won’t she?
But how will that fare for you, Bristol? Do you really think she’ll forgive you for keeping this big of a secret from her? Do you really think you can just use your past as an excuse for breaking her heart? You’re trying to push her away, and you might actually be successful this time. She hates you now, but she’llresentyou later.
“Do you feel weird?” Lila asks out of nowhere, fidgeting with her hands, and doing some weird swivel motion with her hips.
She catches me off guard. “Uh, no? Why?”
She groans, folds one leg over the other, then unfolds it and folds the other leg over. And this is all while she’s making strange whining noises—sexywhining noises—and squirming her lower half against the welter of sheets. The gusset of her bikini bottom begins to ruck while the strings on her waist dip to a low-rise, revealing far more of her body than I think she realizes.
“Are you okay?” I question worriedly.
Lila’s pupils are twice their usual size, and a prominent rush of blood filters into her cheeks as she shakes her head sheepishly. She jostles the bed while I try to locate the source of theproblem, and I don’t miss how stiff her nipples are despite the room temperature being in the high sixties.
“I feel…weird,” she confesses.
“Weird how? WeirdI-think-I’m-about-to-have-a-heart-attack? Or weirdI-shouldn’t-have-eaten-that-lukewarm-shrimp?”
She hesitates with a twist of her lips, deciding to plead the fifth as she hikes up her bikini strings and fixes what was almost a wardrobe malfunction.
The longer she holds out on me, the faster concern drills into my heart, and all my fix-it senses are flooding to the scene. “I don’t have time to play Twenty Questions with you, Lila.”
“I’m wet” is all she says, keeping her eyes downcast.
Come again? She’s not covered in any water. Plus, I’ve been with her this entire time. I would’ve known if she went for a late-night swim.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
I have a feeling Lila will lug this secret to her grave, but we don’t have that kind of time, and I don’t have that kind of patience. I’m about to interrogate her again when she leans back on her palms, showing me the damp spot that’s permeated the thin material of her bikini bottom.
She…she can’t possibly mean what I think she means. This room’s seen less action than a chess club on prom night.
I’ve gone braindead while I stare at her, unsure how to help the situation, unsure whatshewantsmeto do about the situation.
“I think there’s something wrong with me,” she whimpers, though her voice is a sultry siren song leading me out to sea, promising to drown me once the undertow lassos my feet.
My libido is off the charts right now, sputtering weakly into the stratosphere before spontaneously combusting into millions of fragmented pieces. I have no idea how fucked I’ll be in thenext few minutes, but with the angry way my cock is twitching in my trunks, it’s not looking good.
My throat clicks with a gulp—one that sounds louder than a ship horn. “There’s nothing wrong with you?—”
She nods her head before butterflying her legs open, revealing the cinched gusset of her bottom splitting her cunt in half, and her glistening, puffy lips engulf my line of sight, wetter than the motherfucking lake we’re floating on right now.
Fuck me.
13
