Page 25 of Spring Break with a Bass Player
At the top of the stairs, when everyone goes left, Saige pulls me to the right, her steps quick as she ducks into a darkened alcove and fists her hand in my shirt.
Knowing our time is limited, I back her against the wall as my mouth crashes over hers, groaning when her lips part and I’m able to slide my tongue between them. She whimpers as she fights me for control, her breasts pressed against me and my cock hard against her.
“We should go,” she breathes as she hooks her leg up around my thigh, her core rubbing against my erection, while making zero attempts to leave.
“Definitely,” I agree, hooking my hand under her knee and making her gasp as I grind my hips in time with hers.
We shouldn’t be doing this here.
“Bridge, you need to stop because I’m like three seconds away from dropping to my knees and making you come down my throat.”
Releasing her leg, I cup her face and take her mouth in a bruising kiss, her words replaying over and over in my head as I devour her.
Fucking hell.
“I might not survive you,” I tell her when I finally pull back far enough to rest my forehead against hers.
“Hell of a way to go, though, right?”
I snort. “I should’ve known you’d be wild after being so put together and polished every day,” I tell her, grabbing her hand as I adjust myself and count backward from ten. When my dick is under control, I guide us back toward the walkway and follow the few lingering patrons out to the parking lot.
It’s only when we’ve reached the car, I realize her silence is more nervous than comfortable.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, caging her against the driver’s side door, my hands on either side of her.
“Nothing.” Her tone is flippant, but she won’t meet my gaze, instead staring at something behind me as she fiddles with her keys.
“I like it better when you’re annoyed with me.”
“What?” The statement is enough to force her dark green eyes to mine, and I give her a self-deprecating smile in return.
“At least when you’re annoyed, I know what I did.”
“You didn’t do anything,” she says, the playfulness we shared in the stadium now gone, replaced with something like regret the longer we stand here.
“Tell me what’s so bad about being wild?”
She flinches, the tension radiating off her palpable, and my chest aches for her—for whatever this is.
When she stays silent, I tip her chin up with my fist and press my lips to hers. There’s no heat, only what I hope is reassurance.
“I left that girl in my past,” she says tightly.
“Saige.”
“Let’s just get home.”
17
SAIGE
My heart is racing as I throw a change of clothes in my overnight bag and get back in my car after dropping Bridger off with the promise that I amnotfreaking out.
But I totally am.
What the fuck was I thinking?
I wasn’t and that’s why I need some space. Some clarity. And there’s only one place I can go for that. Thankfully, the ride to my cousins’ house isn’t far because I need them tonight.
