Bad Girl Reputation (Avalon Bay #2)(32)

Grabbing my waist, he lifts me and I wrap my legs around his hips. I hang on to him with my hands clasped behind his neck as he keeps us firm against the push and pull of the waves.

Evan squeezes my ass in both hands. “Please, Gen, dare me to bend you over. I’m begging you.”

To that I smack a handful of salt water at him. “Animal.”

He shakes the water from his face, flipping his hair out of his eyes. “Woof.”

We’re good like this. That’s the thing. It’d be easy to walk away if he were a bastard who treated me badly and was only nice when he wanted to get laid. But it’s not like that at all. He’s my best friend. Or was.

“So, go on,” Evan says gruffly. “Tell me about Charleston. What kind of trouble were you getting into?”

“You’re going to be disappointed.” This past year was decidedly drab, but that’s what it was meant to be. A complete social detox. “There’s not much to tell, really. I got a job working for a real estate office. Secretary slash assistant slash miscellaneous. If you can believe that.”

“That must have been a hell of a job interview.” A wave comes at us sideways and tosses us toward shore. Evan sets me on my feet but keeps those strong hands on my hips.

“Why’s that?”

His eyes sparkle in the moonlight. “Well, I assume under relevant experience, you listed the Goldenrod Estates.”

The mention of that place brings to mind all sorts of mischief. A few years ago, Goldenrod Estates was a housing development still under construction just south of Avalon Bay. Another gated community for people with more money than taste, all those gaudy McMansions sitting on top of each other. But when the hurricane came through and tore down half the town, construction halted as every company rushed to snap up all the restoration and repair work they could get. The places were abandoned for months, leaving kids like us to roam free through the empty, open homes.

“That was a good summer,” I admit. One of our fonder memories.

“The empty pool party.”

“Oh, shit. Yes. Like fifty people crammed in a huge concrete hole.”

“Then Billy comes running up and says the cops are coming.”

The night in question flashes through my mind. I remember my brother’s frantic entrance, how we’d shut off the music and turned out the flashlights. All of us holding our breath, crouched down in the dark.

“And your dumb ass decides to be the hero,” I say, more in amusement than accusation. “Climbs out of the pool and runs across the street.”

“You didn’t have to follow me.”

“Well, yeah.” I sway with the current, letting my toes drag in the sand as the force of the tide pushes and pulls. “But I wasn’t letting you go to jail alone.”

The memories keep surfacing. Evan and I got up on the roof of a house across the street, watching the red and blue lights grow brighter against the walls of the unfinished houses as cars drew closer. Half a dozen cruisers, at least. Then, hoping to distract the cops from our friends, we began waving our flashlights, shouting at the officers to get their attention. We leapt off the roof, pounding pavement and darting through houses as we ran from the cops, eventually losing them in the woods.

God, we were invincible together. Untouchable. With Evan, I was never bored a minute in my life. Both of us were constantly feeding the high, looking for the next shot of adrenaline as we pressed the limits of our own capacity for trouble.

“There a guy?” he asks suddenly. “Back in Charleston?”

“What if there was?” But there wasn’t, not really. Just a series of unimpressive dates and short-lived relationships that mostly passed the time. It’s tough when you’re comparing every guy you meet to the one you ran away from.

“No reason,” he says, shrugging.

“Just want to talk to him, right? Just a chat.”

Evan smirks. “Something like that.”

I can’t help that his jealousy excites me. It’s stupid and petty, I know, but in our bizarre way, it’s how we show we care.

“What about you? Any girls?”

“A few.”

I frown at his vague tone. Feeling the claws trying to come out, I force myself to retract them. Force myself not to picture Evan with another woman. His mouth on someone who isn’t me. His hands exploring curves that aren’t mine.

But I fail. The images swarm my brain and a low growl escapes my throat.

Evan laughs mockingly. “Just want to talk to them, right?” he mimics. “Just a chat?”

“No. I want to burn their houses down for touching you.”

“Damn, Fred, why do you always go right to arson?”

I snicker. “What can I say? I run hot.”

“Damn right.” His hands glide up my stomach to cup my bare breasts. He squeezes, winking at me.

I shiver when his fingertips dance over my nipples, which pucker tightly. Evan notices the response, and a faint smile tugs at his lips. He’s so good-looking it’s almost unfair. My gaze sweeps from his chiseled features to the defined muscles of his bare chest. His sculpted arms. Flat abdomen. Those big, callused hands that had just pinned me down while his hungry mouth feasted between my legs.

“You’re killing me, Gen.” Evan growls the words at whatever he sees playing out on my face. His fingers bite into my flesh. “Don’t do that unless you mean it.”