The night of the graduation party I’d been equally self-conscious—ever since the Poodle incident, I’d taken to assuming that every time his gaze lingered on me a little too long, it was because he was gearing up to mock me. And now he’s telling me he was about to kiss me? There’s no way that can be true.
What if it is?
The question haunts me for the rest of the evening. Michelle and Danny eventually venture downstairs, and whatever they were doing in the yellow room doesn’t seem like a goodbye bang, because Michelle is glowing, smiling happily. They don’t last long, though. Halfway through a game of Scrabble, Michelle announces she’s bored and turns to my brother, chirping, “Want to turn in early?” She’s not at all discreet about her intentions. Her batting eyelashes and flirty tone are like a neon sign.
It’s only ten o’clock. We usually go to bed late at the lake, and sleep in. But now that they’ve made up, I guess it’s a “couples thing” again. Danny gives us an apologetic look and follows her upstairs.
Nick, who seemed a bit subdued during the game, gets up from the table. “I’m going down to the dock,” he says abruptly.
“Okay.”
Frowning, I watch him go. I think I hurt his feelings, but I still can’t wrap my head around everything he’d said earlier. About the flirting, the kissing attempt. My brain can’t comprehend it, because I’d truly never gotten the sense, not even once, that Nick was attracted to me.
I put away the Scrabble tiles, then head upstairs to take a shower. Might as well turn in early too. And luckily I don’t hear any sex noises from the yellow room at the moment. Yet something drags me out of bed and pushes me back outside. Only a half hour has passed, but he’s still on the dock, sitting there nursing a beer. The moon is bright again, its light emphasizing Nick’s chiseled jawline.
“May I join you?” I ask lightly.
He gestures to the empty space beside him with his beer bottle.
I sit down. Neither of us speaks for a minute. We stare out at the water, while the question continues to gnaw at me, poke at me, until finally I just blurt it out.
“Were you actually going to kiss me that night?”
He tips his head toward me. “Yes.” He sighs. “You seriously had no idea?”
“None.”
Now he’s nodding. Slowly. Pensive. “Okay… And let’s say you did know that’s what I wanted to do… What would you have done?”
He watches me with those dark eyes. Searching.
What would I have done?
I bite my lip. Then I moisten it with my tongue and let out a nervous breath. “I think I would’ve kissed you back—”
His mouth is on mine before I can utter the last syllable.
It stuns me. Thrills me. Never in a million years did I think I’d be kissing Nick Carmichael. But here I am. Here we are.
I deepen the kiss by slipping my tongue past the seam of his lips, and he makes a husky noise in response. When his tongue meets mine, it’s my turn to moan. I place one hand flat to his chest and his muscles quiver beneath my touch. I can feel his heart beating against my palm. The next thing I know, he tugs me into his lap.
“Fuck,” he grunts.
His hands wrap around my waist. Mine loop around his neck. As I kiss him back hungrily, I don’t miss the hard ridge pressed between my thighs. He’s…big. Hard and thick. His evident arousal fogs my brain. My judgment. I don’t know how long we sit there kissing in the darkness, while the water laps against the wood pillars of the dock.
His fingers start dragging the hem of my tank top up, then stop. “Is this okay?” he asks.
“Yes.” I sound breathless.
He slides his hands beneath my top and cups my breasts. His thumbs sweep over my nipples, getting them hard.
Pinpricks of pleasure dance along my skin. I lean into his touch, lowering my face to his so I can kiss him again. Keeping one hand on my breast, he brings the other between my legs, and a bolt of heat tears through me.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he whispers.
I can’t believe those words are coming out of his mouth. This is surreal. All of it. He feels so strong and solid beneath me. He tastes like beer and mint. He smells like sunscreen and sandalwood. My senses are on overload.
“Fuck, Kate.” He burrows his face in the crook of my neck and starts kissing my feverish skin. Meanwhile, his hand is stroking, rubbing, until the ache becomes unbearable and I start grinding against the heel of his palm.
“Ah hell, that’s it,” Nick says. “Ride my hand.”
Another moan slips out. Neither of the guys I’d been with had ever talked like this. Hot and dirty. I think I kinda like it. His mouth returns to mine, fingers skimming my breast, pinching my nipple. I grind harder and the pleasure rises and peaks before I can even process it. The orgasm catches me off-guard, making me gasp against Nick’s lips.
“Are you coming?” He sounds startled.
I whimper in response, my hips moving faster. My heartbeat careens wildly as the climax ripples through my body. When I’m able to catch my breath and open my eyelids, I find his eyes twinkling at me. Lips curved in a satisfied smile.
“That was so fucking hot,” he mumbles.
I still don’t have any words. I tend to get gooey after an orgasm. I rest my chin against his shoulder, and he strokes my hair until my heartbeat regulates.
“That was…unexpected,” I finally say.
We grin at each other, and then we’re kissing again, falling onto the hard cedar of the dock. It can’t be comfortable for Nick, but he settles on his back and pulls me close to his side. His breath hitches when my hand slides down his chest. Lower and lower.
“You don’t have to,” he says.
“I want to.” I unbutton his shorts and slip my hand inside. It’s as much for me as it is for him. I want to touch him. I want to feel him.
His hard dick springs up and I curl my fingers around it, giving an exploratory stroke. His hips jerk up and he curses softly. When I peer up at his expression, his features are taut with desire. Smiling, I give another stroke, then shuffle down and take him in my mouth. His expletive is even more violent this time.
I don’t spend a lot of time teasing him. I suck him deep while he groans his approval. One hand rests on my head, long fingers threading through my hair. “That’s it, Kate,” he mutters.
Fueled by his response, I grip the base of him, using my hand and tongue to drive him crazy, quickening the pace as his hips grow restless. I can’t believe I’m blowing Nick. Not only that, but I’m loving it. I love every noise he makes. I love how he tastes in my mouth, how he moves. The way he throbs beneath my tongue.
Breathing growing labored, he chokes out the words, “I’m gonna come.”
I release him. He yanks his shirt up to his collarbone and I stroke him until he’s coming all over his abs. Afterward, he lies there with arms at his sides, his eyes closed, panting.
I laugh at the spent sight of him. “You okay?” I tease.
“No. You’ve killed me.”
“What should we do about that?” I point to the mess on his stomach.
He rises on his elbows, peers down, then sits up and removes his shirt, using it to wipe himself up.