The Summer We Fell (The Summer, #1)(91)

My words die off as he closes the distance between us, pinning me to the wall with his hands framing my face. “Don’t try to tell a man who’s waited ten years for you that you love him more.”

His mouth lands on mine, then, hard and soft at once, angry and gentle. I hold onto his waist just to maintain my balance, just to keep from losing myself or sliding to the floor.

He needs to shave. I need to shower. But I’m wrenching his belt loose and he’s unzipping my



dress.

“I’m so fucking mad at you right now,” he says, his hand fisting my hair to jerk my head up to his,

“and I’ve also never loved you more.”

His mouth returns to mine, and I get it, at last. He’s going to forgive me. He was always going to forgive me. I can be flawed, I can do terrible things, and his love for me will always be bigger than that.

He groans as I reach into his boxers and wrap my hand around him. “Bed,” he demands, unclasping my bra.

I pull him toward the room clad in nothing but my thong. He pulls his shirt overhead while I climb on the mattress, spreading my legs wide as he kneels between them.

He fists his thick cock, already dripping. “Are you ready for me, Juliet?” he asks, sliding a finger beneath my thong and inside me, his eyes gleaming. “Of course you are. You’re fucking soaked. You always are.”

He pushes the thong to the side and moves over me, then thrusts. We both groan, and for once neither of us has to silence it.

He begins to move, sinking his teeth into my shoulder as I gasp. It’s desperate and frantic, and when I finally clamp down around him, unable to hold out a moment longer, he is only seconds behind me. “Fuck,” he hisses. “Yes.”

He groans as he lets go at last, then collapses above me, pressing soft kisses to my face, to my neck.

“I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so much.”

“It’s about time I didn’t have to drag it out of you,” he grumbles, and when I laugh, he finally offers me a reluctant smile. “I love you too. But I’m guessing you knew that.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry we were apart. I’m sorry it took us so long to get here.”

His lips press to my head, his arms pull me closer. “I don't care how much time it took, as long as you’re mine in the end. I told you I’d wait forever, but I’m glad I didn’t have to.”

I want to keep talking to him. I want to tell him everything, but I guess we’ve got all the time in the world for that now. We both agree we’re going to get out of bed and shower in a minute, but instead—

with the breeze billowing through the curtains and the roar of the ocean in our ears—we drift off to sleep.

It’s every bit as good as I dreamed it would be.

I WAKE ALONE. I roll toward the balcony, where Luke stands in nothing but a pair of shorts, staring out at the horizon. It’s dawn, and the sky’s violet is giving way to oranges and pinks.

I throw his t-shirt overhead and cross the room, wrapping my arms around him from behind,

smiling as my face rests against his bare back. “Go ahead and surf. I know you want to.”

He turns, pulling me to his chest. “I had a thought.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Have you tried surfing again, since that day in Malibu?”

I stiffen.

Malibu. We were so happy yet so miserable. And so innocent, though neither of us would have thought it at the time. What might have happened if I’d just left with Luke then? If the two of us had walked out of the water together, gathered our stuff, and silently driven away? Danny would have hated me, but he’d still be alive. And I wouldn’t have hurt Luke.

But we can’t fix it. All we can do is start over, and never let anything come between us again.

“Surfing? No.” I slide my fingers through his. “But there are a ton of people staying in the hotel this weekend. We’d attract so much attention out there together. There’d be photos of it everywhere tomorrow.”

His spine draws straight and he steps away. “Maybe we needed to talk more yesterday than I thought.” His eyes grow cold. “Is there a reason you still don’t want people to know?”

I close the distance between us, pressing my mouth to the center of his sternum. “You can fly a plane over LA announcing it, for all I care. It has nothing to do with that. But you’re a pro surfer and I’m a shitty beginner. Everyone on the beach will be laughing at me and feeling sorry for you.”

His shoulders relax. His arms come around me again and he presses his lips to the top of my head in silent apology. I guess it’s going to take a while for him to get over how bad things were. It’ll take a while for me too.

“I can assure you that no straight male will be feeling sorry for me, and you did just fine last time, but there’ll be almost no one outside for a few hours. We could go now.”

The water will be cold and the waves here are larger than they were in Malibu. “I don’t have a wetsuit,” I argue weakly. “I’ll freeze.”

He gives me a sly smile. “I had one delivered for you yesterday. It’s at the front desk.”

I laugh. “I guess I was kind of a sure thing, then?”

“Juliet Cantrell,” he whispers, tugging me tight against him, “you’ve never been a sure thing.”