Page 40 of Second Chance Vacation

“Yeah…it was.” We’ve never talked about our break up or the impact it had on either of us. Every so often, I hear about Gen from my parents, but mostly I’ve been in the dark about her life after I left for college. By the time I came home the following summer, she wasn’t around our house anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs, resting her hand on my thigh. My heart jumps in my chest, leaving me craving that touch, as innocent as it’s intended to be.

“It’s fine.”

“I was a dick—”

“No, you weren’t.”

She falls silent, catching her enticingly plump bottom lip under her front teeth. I can’t help but ache to bite it myself.

Taste her.

When we kissed at the club, we were drunk, and it was sloppy. I want to revel in it, drink up every breath, every moan, claim it for my own. The record playing in the corner screeches to a halt, pulling my attention from Gen. I jump up, causing her hand to fall from my thigh. I don’t want to push too far, so the lack of contact is a welcome reprieve.

Sifting through the records available, I find yet another Barry Manilow record shuffled in amongst the records, primarily in French.

“Sorry, they’re mostly old records.”

“It’s okay.” Gen’s voice travels up my neck, so close I can feel her breath on the back of my shirt, leaving me with chills. I shift to face her, her body only inches from my own. Something has shifted in her, even if I don’t know what.

Without a word, I gaze down at her, refusing to put the distance between her and me that we so clearly need.

“Want to dance?” She smirks.

“How much wine have you had?”

“Seriously?” Her brow shoots up as she stares up at me.

I look over at the island to find a half-drank glass of wine. So, she’s not drunk.

“Okay then…sure,” I croak as I grab her hand, placing my other against the exposed skin of her lower back. My hand begins moving up and down her spine, barely grazing her soft flesh. I swear I see her shiver. I didn’t realize before, but her dress has a fully exposed back, held together with tiny ribbons extending up to create her straps.

We sway to the music, and with every second that passes by, I feel her tug me closer. Her breath skates over my neck, leaving goosebumps up my spine. Her familiar aroma leaves me in a warm haze, pulling me to her like a siren. Despite everything in me telling me that I need to walk away and adhere to her previous wishes for space, I can’t resist her pull.

Tilting her head up to meet my gaze, I watch a breath catch in Gen’s throat. She is actively trying to push herself, and I want to know why. It doesn’t take long to figure it out.

Gen’s lips graze my own so gently that if I weren’t so transfixed, I’d be questioning if it actually even happened. As quickly as I feel her, she is done. She’s taunting me.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, only a breath from her lips.

She doesn’t respond. Closing the distance once more, she presses her lips to mine, this time more firm, intentional. It is taking everything in me not to lose my cool. I want to give in, but every warning sign from pushing her too far yesterday is alarming in my brain.

Stop.

“Say red,” I plead. I need her to stop this because I won’t be able to do it on my own. It feels eerily similar to the first time we kissed.

“No.”

With that, the sliver of control I am holding onto snaps. I crash my lips into hers with far more urgency than before, eager to swallow every mewl and moan she gives me. The soft flesh of her back is nothing compared to the curve of her neck as I pull her to me, desperate to feel her body against my own. I push her back, moving until I have her back flush against the wall. The moan that leaves her lips on contact only entices me more.

Reaching down, my hands graze the side of her thighs, pushing the satin of her dress up along her upper thigh, a whisper away from Eden.

“Say red.”

A brief moment of silence falls, leaving me with bated breath.

“No.”

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