Summer Heat (Cruel Summer #1)(17)

Especially for me.

But he’d caught me at a bad time.

He’d caught me sad.

And I wasn’t good at fighting the sad. I never had been.

A tear streamed down my cheek, leaving a trail of wetness. I tried to stop it, but another one just followed it, and another, until I stopped counting.

I sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry for whatever I did. I was just… getting ready to come down to the campfire, but I needed a minute.”

His face softened a fraction of an inch. “A minute to cry?”

“A minute to celebrate.” I shrugged stupidly. “It’s my birthday, I thought maybe my parents…” I shook my head as a ball lodged itself in my throat. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just grab a sweatshirt.”

“Ray—”

“It’s fine, I’m not pushing you on purpose.”

He sighed. “Listen—”

“Where did I put that sweatshirt anyway?” I did a small circle.

“Damn it, Ray, just listen to me!” He was in the doorway, and then suddenly he was gripping my arms, holding me steady, staring into my soul, feeding me with his warmth. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” I couldn’t handle his pity. It felt like an itchy sweater. I wanted out. I needed out or I’d do something worse and collapse in his arms or something. “Don’t do this.” I looked away.

He gripped my chin between his thumb and forefinger forcing me to look at him, to see his beauty up close. Even with my blurry eyes I could see the blue flecks in his, I could smell the aftershave he wore, the cologne that reminded me of hot summer nights when he’d be mowing the lawn while I lay out by the pool.

The tension between us was enough to scald the pool — and the smell was always the same, as was the look of hatred he sent my way.

It was always like that after.

After we touched.

After we kissed.

Like our hearts decided that if we couldn’t have one another, they’d choose something just as passionate, something just as wonderful and horrible all at once — hate.

He watched me then. Holding my face tenderly.

While tears dried on my cheeks.

While I waited for his sneer.

Hoped for it to replace the pity in his eyes.

The truth that followed.

The fact that he’d always had a reason to pity me. He just didn’t realize it because it was the only armor I’d had left when it came to him — my social status, my money.

Smokescreens and more smokescreens.

I tried jerking away.

“Stop,” he hissed.

I licked my lips.

He lowered his head.

This wasn’t happening, was it?

He stopped inches from my mouth, right where I could taste him. All I needed to do was lean my head up, move closer to his heat, to the smell of spearmint on his breath.

“Twenty-two,” he breathed out, and then his mouth lowered to my right cheek. “One.” He moved to the left cheek. “Two.” I sucked in a breath as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Three.” He kissed my neck next, and then lower. He grabbed my right hand and kissed the back of it, and then my wrist, he repeated the process with my left hand. He kissed me everywhere.

I was too stunned to say anything.

“Twenty-one.” He kissed my fingertip and then pulled me against his chest so hard my breath hitched.

I didn’t have time to prepare myself for what it would feel like to be wanted by him, touched by him.

So when he lowered his head and brushed a petal soft kiss against my mouth, his tongue traveling along my lower lip as if he needed to sneak a taste, I didn’t know what to do.

“Twenty-two.” He stood back, his eyes hooded, his posture strained like he was having a hard time not shoving me against something. My chest heaved as he rasped, “Happy Birthday.”

Stunned, I stood there while he walked over to my suitcase and the chair next to it, and grabbed the hoody I’d been searching for as if he had laser vision, tossed it to me, and said, “Staff camp fires are mandatory.”

The screen door slammed after him.

I pressed my fingertips to my lips in stunned silence.

And then jumped when he yelled out. “Ray!”

“Coming.” I stumbled toward the door and pulled the hoody over my head just in time to see his disappearing form heading toward the staff lodge and huge campfire.

I must have looked wide-eyed, because the first thing that Brax said to me with a knowing smirk was, “So… heard Marlo and you were dirty dancing. I’d ask for details, but the students’ memories were very thorough.”

I glared and then flipped him off, much to Jackson’s amusement as he walked over with a plastic cup and handed it to me. “Compliments of all the kids currently doing KP duty.” He grinned. “Cheers!”

“Ch-cheers.” I gulped down something sweet and heavily laden with what tasted like vodka and locked eyes with Marlo across the fire.

The flames rose higher and higher until all I saw were his icy blue eyes.

I shivered.

While his gaze fanned the flames.

I’d always wanted to be looked at like that.

And now that I was.

I wanted to run.

Because there was possession in his eyes, and I belonged to no one but myself.