Saugatuck Summer (Saugatuck, #1)(43)

I didn’t love him, but I would sure as hell miss him.

Something pulsed in my chest; I thought it was surety. I stripped off my shirt and kicked off my shoes, knowing as I did so that this would be the last time. A good-bye. Tomorrow morning I would end it.

He came awake as I crawled half-nude over his body, giving me a drowsy, dopey smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” I smiled back, letting myself be happy at the sight of him. Not sad. Sad would come later. For now I just wanted to enjoy him one final time.

I carefully pulled his glasses off his face and set them on his laptop, dipping for a slow kiss. His arms came around me, pulling me flush atop him, and I ground my hips down as my tongue slipped into his mouth, using my body to jumpstart his arousal.

“Topher . . .” he groaned, his voice full of longing. He cupped a hand to the back of my head and took charge of the kiss, tipping my head to angle my mouth against his, thrusting his tongue demandingly into my mouth. His fingers dug into my back, hands sliding over my skin. Beneath the rocking of my pelvis, he swelled, thick and eager.

We didn’t make it up the stairs. At least not right away.

I don’t know if I did something to clue him in that this was the last night or what, but suddenly we were desperate, needy, clothes flying and hands grasping with bruising force. It was a bookend to the insanity of our first night together, heedless and rough.

We didn’t have lube down here, but that was okay. Appropriate, even. Again with the symmetry. We would end the same way we’d begun, with hurt and wild need. I thrust spit-slicked fingers into my ass, taking only a little more care than I had that first night. I wanted to ache the next day, to feel it in every muscle and nerve. In all honesty, I’d discovered I kind of enjoyed the feeling, the merciless burn as unready muscles fought against what I was trying to force them to accept when I pushed myself onto his cock.

I tipped my head back and yelled up into the vaulted ceiling, momentarily overcome. Once I sank down on him fully, I paused, panting softly, waiting to relax before I moved. And then I rode him, staring down at his enraptured face. He looked up at me like I was something wonderful, something miraculous, and that look threatened to make me sad again. So I closed my eyes and blocked it out, focusing on lust and pleasure, on the feel of his hands riding my hips, helping me move, on his grunts and sighs and, finally, whispered pleas.

When it was over, I sank down against him, limp and sweating, my cum growing sticky between our chests. His arms surrounded me and I felt cared for. As if maybe there were a sliver of right in it to offset just a little bit of all the wrong.

Maybe if I’d ended it then, the whole disastrous next morning wouldn’t have happened. But the tenderness felt too good, so I lingered in it. I let Brendan lead me up the stairs by the hand, and into the shower, and then I curled up in his bed with him wrapped around me. And when he woke me up early the next morning, hard and ready and rocking against me, I decided the night wasn’t quite over yet.



I needed to get up and do my morning swim so I could get to work, but first we had to talk. I was trying to come up with the words to tell Brendan we were done when his sigh ruffled my hair.

“Adele and Morgan will be here this weekend.”

“Yeah.” My finger traced lazy patterns on his chest.

“It’s . . .” Another sigh. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding crass, which really isn’t how I mean it, but you know it’s probably not a good idea for you to be here while they’re here.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been trying to figure out my options there.”

“I’ll call around today, see if any of the local B&Bs have a vacancy for the next few weeks. If not, then I’ll get you a room at a motel, or maybe the Dunes. I’ll come see you when I can get away.”

Everything within me went tight and cold, hurting like I’d just been impaled on a shard of ice. I jerked my head off his chest.

“What?”

I stared at him in disbelief, adrenaline kicking in. My breath came short and shallow, my heart racing with the sickening flood of anxiety that always preceded a confrontation.

“I know it’s not ideal, but it’s better than running the risk of letting something slip . . .”

I would not cry. I would not cry. I rolled out of his arms and off the bed, storming out of the bedroom and down the stairs to gather up the clothes I’d left scattered around the living room the night before.

“Topher!” Brendan came hopping out on one foot, nearly tripping as he hastily pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms. “Come on, Topher. I’m doing the best I can, here. It’s only for a few weeks. I don’t know what you—”

“Get out of my way,” I snarled when he stood on the stairs one rise above me, blocking my progress. I clutched my clothes in front of my nude body like a shield, trying to hide the way I was shaking.

The best thing I could say about the morning was that he did as I demanded, standing aside to let me pass. But he chased after me as I rushed for my room in the attic.

“Topher, just stop. What is it?”

“What is it? What is it?” I began dumping clothes out of the dresser drawers, snatching them on as quickly as I could before hauling my suitcase and large duffel out of the closet. I would not cry. I would not cry! “Brendan, what was the only f*cking thing I asked from you that first night? Do you remember?”