“Claire—” I warn.
“No,” she snaps, slapping away my hands. “I don’t care if this is the apocalypse, you do not get to touch me. Keep those Montgomery grabby-hands to yourself.” She lets loose a string of curses and shoves her hands toward me trying to make me move away. She’s crazy. How is it possible this is the same girl I once obsessed over? She’s total batshit. She has no idea what’s going on right now. She’s got no clue how much danger we’re in standing here.
Above us the mountain groans and bellows a deep terrifying sound. I can’t help but look up in the direction it’s coming from. An icy mixture of hail and snow bite into my face, but it’s nothing compared to what’s coming.
I fling my arms around her, hauling her back against me.
“Vaughn Montgom—”
“Avalanche!” I shout, cutting her words dead.
The ground vibrates under us. Claire’s body stiffens in my arms. Her furious expression crumples into alarm. “Av-avalanche?” she asks, her breath catching on the word.
Overhead, a white wall of mountain rushes down, gathering speed, churning and rolling, spitting and screaming.
“Move! Move!” I shout, pulling her back with me. We need to get out of its path or we’ll be buried alive. No one knows I’m here, there would be no rescue. There would just be our bodies found long after, when the snow finally thaws in the spring.
We struggle through the drift, moving as fast as we can.
“Hold on to me! Don’t let go,” I shout. Shockingly, she listens, wrapping her arms around my waist, pressing her face against my chest. I hug her close to me as we push forward, climbing and scurrying over the thick wet snow.
But it’s too late. I can feel the wind and ice at my back right before it lands. The mountain crashes over us, slamming right through our bodies. We’re airborne for a moment, then we hit down hard and tumble and roll. Ice scrapes through my skin, slicing and cutting. Burning and stinging. I can’t control the trajectory of either of us. It lasts only a handful of seconds, then my head explodes with pain.
When everything comes to a stop our bodies are tangled. I think we’re in the ice and snow for what seems like ages, not saying anything, just holding on to one another, while the wind and snow keeps blowing and whipping around us, freezing our skin and weighing down our clothes, and for a moment, it seems like we were holding onto each other because that was the only way to stop us from being swept up into the storm. But that’s not true. Our limbs are knotted and raveled together because I think we’re packed under a mountain. I feel snow in my ears, it fills my mouth and nose. It gets heavier and heavier.
I think I hear her voice. It sounds distant and afraid. I try to move but the wind dulls and the snow presses down and everything fades from pure white to nothing at all. The scent of her skin washes over me in the darkness, a sweet sugary mixture of rose and vanilla.
This is my last thought before I die.
Wrong.
I don’t die.
I just wish I do, instead I lose consciousness and I’m fifteen years old again, desperately infatuated with Claire Radcliffe.
“It’s officially summer va-cay, Claire’s here!” Chloe’s voice rings through my head. She’s skipping through the hallway, yelling, all the way to the front foyer. I hear the thwap, thwap of her flats on the floor. “Vaughn! Claire’s here!”
I don’t remember our house ever being so cold.
I stumble away from my buddies, awkwardly. She’s here. Claire’s here. A rush of heat flushes over my body. I have to get these losers to leave—once they get a look at Claire—my Claire—they’ll never want to go. She’d be the shiny new toy for them to play with, and I can’t have that, I want her all to myself this summer. It’s bad enough I have to share her with Chloe and Matteo. I wish we could just lock ourselves in my room, alone, and stay there until September. My stomach flutters wildly just thinking about it. I wish her family could move here.
Donovan, Chase—and the rest of the guys, they don’t leave until it’s dark, and when they finally do, we light a fire, just the four of us—me, Chloe, Matteo, and her—Claire Radcliffe.
Shadows dance around her face, she’s so pretty I can’t stop staring at her.
Then we’re inside, alone. I’m not sure how we get here so fast, but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters but us.
She’s standing out on the balcony leaning on the railing, her hair blowing in the warm breeze. She says nothing, but simply stares into the star-streaked sky, until I bring her by the hand into the library. I bought her a gift, a book, something small—just to let her know I missed her, how much I think of her when she’s not here. A token, unspoken, though, that no other girl has my heart, my soul…my body like she does even in the long cold months she’s not here.
Each summer she happens to me all over again. Come autumn and winter by body craves her, in the spring my mind is out of control missing her, then summer rolls around again and she’s here.
In the library, she leans on the edge of the reading table and I feel nothing but the soft, warmth of her lips on mine. The way her breath exhales unsteadily, mixing with mine. I could kiss these lips forever. I will. We kiss, and kiss, slow and wet. So long and hot I could feel my sanity melt from my body and become this pulsing, throbbing ache. Sparks, like little blasts of fireworks ignite over my skin, and still we kiss and kiss until every muscle I’m made of is coiled tight and rigid and I teeter on the verge of eruption. I can’t touch enough of her skin at once. I want to slide my fingers everywhere. The hem of her dress is up around her waist. I’m not sure if it was me or her who pushed it there, but the smooth silky path up her legs makes my mouth water.
I lean back an inch, just to see her. Her lips are parted, her eyes are a sleepy haze of heat. She’s so damn beautiful. I slow my movements and touch a single fingertip to her underwear. There’s a swift intake of breath and I raise my eyes back up to hers. She’s breathing heavy, her chest rising and falling, and her cheeks are stained bright red. She wants this as much as I do. I give the tiniest bit of pressure and trail my finger down the center of the material. I hook my finger underneath the damp fabric and pull it to one side. My chest constricts, almost painfully. God, she’s so perfect. I want to sink to my knees and trace her pussy with my tongue.
“Vaughn,” she whispers. Her hands grip my arms, her fingers dig in.
My eyes meet hers again, and I slip my fingers inside her. She’s so warm and wet. I push in deep.
Her soft cry comes out a whimper, her fingernails leave marks in my skin.
Then her hands are at the back of my neck, hard and fast, pulling me back to her mouth. Her kiss is frantic now, my fingers slipping in and out, deeper and deeper. Closer she takes me, until there’s no space between us, until my body is pressed hard against hers, and my fingers are so deep inside her I can barely move.
Her body shifts and grinds on my hand, and I’m so hard I really don’t think I can take much more; I need more than just my fingers inside her. There’s a soft whimpering, a low pleading building up in my throat, and then she releases her hold on me and drops her hands to my waistband and rips at my pants.
The moment her hand grasps me, I almost come. The moan that comes out of me is unreal and I need to back away. I need to buy some time or this is going to be over too quickly, and I want to savor her this summer, this golden-haired goddess that takes my fucking breath away. I drop to my knees and bring my lips to the small heart-shaped birthmark that lays just above her panties. “How come I never noticed this before? You have a birthmark shaped like a heart.” I want to work my way down with my lips and tongue. I want to see what she tastes like this summer.