Make Me Bad(53)

Everywhere we touch, our skin sparks. My hips meet his and I feel his hard length beneath his briefs. It’s close, but not close enough. I bring one leg up around his waist. He helps me with the other and now I’m connected to him, coiled like a snake. Waves lap against our bodies and his hands are cradling my face. His lips brush against mine, but it’s not a kiss. It’s an impatient touch, a hint of what’s to come. Another wave builds and it’s bigger than before, crashing against us hard enough that I think Ben will lose his footing, but he stays right where he is.

“Please,” I whisper against his mouth.

My breasts drag across his chest with every wave.

“Please.”

Put us out of our misery. Kiss me. Drown me. Something.

His hands bring my face against his again. His nose brushes mine and I smile. We’re two Eskimos. Then his mouth trails over to my cheek and he whispers something I can’t hear. I wish I had heard.

I’m impatient. I turn and steal a peck, but then I jerk away before he can deepen it. Why? I don’t know. I want this kiss, but I’m so scared of what it’ll do to me.

I’m shaking and I’m glad I had that whiskey. I feel just free enough to let this happen, just free enough to let Ben finally turn my face back to his and let his lips fall to mine again, for real this time. I breathe deeply as his mouth presses firmly, slanting, seducing.

His head tilts and the kiss deepens. This is what I’ve been longing for. My arms lock around his neck and my breasts graze his chest. They’re so sensitive, and I’m so anxious to be touched there that a moan escapes me as Ben breaks the kiss and gulps in air.

He brushes hair out of my face, finding my eyes. He’s searching for something. Consent?

I lean in and give it to him with my lips. I kiss him first this time. I take his bottom lip between my teeth and tug and then he returns full force, his fingers digging into my waist. Our tongues touch and we’re creating magic. We’re starting to grind together, and the water adds the most intoxicating element. We’re wet and slippery, but Ben has a rock-solid hold on me. Even still, my heart must think I’m in danger with how quickly it’s beating, how quickly it’s sending blood through my veins.

We kiss long enough that my lips start to ache and my fingers turn to prunes. Long enough for him to carry me closer to shore so we’re only halfway underwater. Long enough for his hands to find their way to my breasts, to curve gently around them. I’m braced for the impact, but he does the most tortuous thing: he doesn’t actually touch where I want him to. His fingers drag along my skin slowly. He trails along my ribs and then his thumb grazes the side of my breast and the shadow just beneath. Each time he moves, my chest caves as I exhale in preparation, and each time, I’m left wanting.

I know a first kiss shouldn’t be more than that. I know we’ve gone from zero to a hundred, but he can’t deprive me of this. He can’t give me his hands, so big and so rough, and not show me exactly how they’ll feel when he touches me there.

I’m losing my head. I’m losing… That’s just it: I’m losing, and Ben is winning. Ben is convincing me that this kiss could be a beginning and that even though he’s from a world of polished silver and trust funds and expectations, I could meet those expectations. I could be the girl he wants, the girl who gets the guy.

Please fall in love with me, I beg with my mouth as our kisses turn hungrier, more savage. My nails are digging into skin and he’s cursing under his breath. I need the moon to hang right where it is and for him to keep ahold of me.

His hand finally drags up and takes my breast and I arch into him, ache for him. His palm covers me, rolling back and forth, skimming across the tip. My thighs clench around him and his grip turns possessive. Hot. Needy. My breast fills his hand and it feels so good to have him touch me there. My flushed skin is sensitive and he knows just how to work me up.

I’m so turned on. I didn’t know this is what I’ve been missing all these years. I’ve touched myself. I’ve felt my own hands on my own skin, but this feeling is nothing like that. Ben has an impatient grip on me. His hips are grinding with mine. His mouth is hungry and impatient. His body is so big and warm. He was waiting for me and my head was in a book. How could I have lived in that library day in and day out and not realized Ben was out here talking with these lips and using these hands for things far less important than this?

Lights flash behind my eyelids and I think I’ve gone too long without air. I break free and heave a breath. I blink, forcing another deep inhale. There, again—red and blue lights swirl in my periphery.

I might have had some whiskey, but I know those lights, and they aren’t a result of our kiss.





“I’m sorry.”

I’ve said the phrase so many times, it sounds distorted. I can’t keep saying it. Besides, I don’t think Ben’s listening anyway. His attention is on my dad’s approaching figure.

Oh yes, that’s right: D-A-D, as in my father, as in the last person I want to see at this moment.

Let me rewind.

Ben was seconds away from tossing me down onto the sand and devouring me whole and I was seconds away from demanding he do just that when a police officer who was patrolling the seawall saw Ben and me in the ocean. Hence the swirling red and blue lights.

It’s not illegal to swim at night. However, it is considered indecent exposure to swim in the buff. Even at night. Even on a deserted beach.