Page 40 of Privilege
I should talk to him. I should open my stupid mouth, and use my stupid words, and talk to him.
Instead, I shove him over the edge and follow him in.
Our bodies tumble through the water, arms and legs bumping against each other as we kick to right ourselves and break through the surface with a gasp.
We float there, arms touching, until the stars come out.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cara
I hate to fangirlover this—my middle class is totally showing—but this yacht is fuckinglit.
I smile, the sleeves of my coverup flapping in the breeze as I sprawl across the leather sunbed on the upper deck and take a sip of Cristal.
This summer has been a far cry from sweeping up peanut shells at a campus bar.
Rich and Dane stand near the railing, playfully shoving at each other and trying to headlock one another, their tanned backs and shoulders rippling.Rich is happy in a way I’ve never seen him happy before. Like he’scomplete,somehow. Like half of him was missing and I didn’t know because I’d never seen them together.
I take another sip and squirm a little, eyeing them wistfully. Rich and I haven’t really talked about what happened in the theatre room, and I don’t think they have either, but I’ve never been fucked so much or so hard as I have in the past few days. When Rich isn’t pile-driving me to within an inch of my life, the two of them have been inseparable.
Dane launches himself at the sunbed and snatches my champagne flute out of my hand. I prop myself up on my elbow like he did the first time we met.
“It’s so nice to meet you Dane,” I say in a mock gravelly voice. “I’ve heardso much about you.”
He drinks my champagne.Bastard.
I squint at him, and slide my sunglasses down my nose. He’s got a tattoo on the inside of his upper arm. I reach out tentatively, and gently run my fingertips over the lines.
“What’s this?”
“A tattoo,” he says, like I’m stupid.
I roll my eyes and smack his stomach. “Let me see.”
He sighs obnoxiously but raises his arm again and I lean in close. He smells like… I don’t knowwhathe smells like, but it seeps into my brain like fog. I blink, and try to focus.
The tattoo is about the size of a beer coaster, the skeletons of two fish in a circle. I reach out and touch it, gently stroke the beautiful ink in his beautiful skin.
“Are you a pisces?” I ask.
“No,” he says.
I frown at him but his Ray Bans leave me completely in the dark. I jump as I feel a hand on the back of my neck.Rich.
“I’m the pisces, babe,” he says softly in my ear.
The air thickens, rife with tension despite the breeze. Rich sweeps my hair away and drops a gentle kiss over my jugular, like he can tell I’m nervous. I close my eyes and lean my head backward into Rich’s chest, his big hands sliding down to my shoulders and easing my wrap off of my arms.
A shudder runs down my spine, goosebumps rising on my flesh despite the heat and the sun.
Rich traces the string of my bikini at the nape of my neck, and then gently tugs on it. I turn my head over my shoulder to look at him.
What are you doing?
Is this okay?
He smiles at me, face full of mischief and lust, tilts his head and kisses me. I moan as his tongue slides into my mouth, and the scraps of material covering my tits fall away and leave me entirely exposed.
