Bingo!
Unsure if Kingsley needs to reapply, I set the bag on the table and make my way to the front of the boat. I lower myself to the plush towel before shaking the bottle and squirting a dollop onto my palm and rubbing it into my arms and legs. Kingsley’s head twists toward me and even though I can’t see his eyes, I feel their heat as I massage the lotion into my chest and belly.
When I reach around to get the tops of my shoulders, his voice rumbles from beside me, breaking the silence. “Need help?”
Thick tendrils of sexual tension spark to life and simmer in the surrounding air.
That’s probably not a good idea.
“Sure.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. I pass him the tube as he pulls himself up to a seated position before stretching his legs out in front of him so there is a slight bend in his knees.
“Come sit here.” He pats the space between his thighs.
I gulp before pinning my lower lip with my teeth and resettling in front of him. Even with the sun blazing down on my exposed skin, a chill scuttles along my spine as he works the lotion into my flesh. The way he massages my muscles has my eyelids feathering shut. He starts at my neck before gradually working his way lower until reaching my bikini briefs.
By the time he finishes, my body is humming with need. Silence descends as the tension rachets up between us. A fresh wave of nerves skitter across my over sensitized flesh. It’s the best feeling in the world.
“I think you’re good,” he says gruffly.
What I think is that I’m on fire.
I twist around as he passes me the bottle. My gaze crawls over the powerful lines of his chest. There’s not a spare ounce of fat on the guy. He’s all chiseled strength. I’m dying to lay my hands on him. “Want me to do you?”
Even from behind his shades, his brows skyrocket across his forehead. The comical expression is enough to break the sexual tension building between us.
“That didn’t come out the way I intended,” I laugh before clarifying the question. “Would you like me to apply some sunscreen?”
When he jerks his broad shoulders, my mouth turns cottony. “Sure, why not?”
He turns so I’m treated to the wide expanse of his back. His muscles ripple with every movement.
Traps.
Deltoids.
Scapulae.
Oh, my...
It takes a moment to realize that my hands are trembling as I squirt a quarter-sized dot on the palm of my hand before rubbing them together to warm the lotion. I draw in a shaky breath before laying my hands against his shoulders. The flesh beneath my fingers is hot as I work my way down his back, making sure to get the sides. His muscles are hard yet pliable as I massage them. I could do this all afternoon.
When I reach the band of his boardshorts, I clear my throat along with the dirty thoughts that have invaded my brain like a swarm of bees. “Okay, all done.”
Unfortunately.
Instead of stretching out, he flips over onto his stomach, resting the side of his face against stacked hands. I lower myself to the towel, allowing my muscles to loosen before melting into the cottony material.
A pang of sadness fills me at the thought of never seeing Kingsley again after this vacation comes to an end. Even though we’ve only spent a brief period of time together, already I realize that he’s someone I’d like to get to know better.
“You never mentioned where you’re from,” he says, deep voice interrupting my thoughts.
“You never asked,” I shoot back, turning my face toward him. Our time together is limited. All I want to do is drink him in so I can create a series of mental snapshots I’ll be able to pull out when I want to remember what an amazing day this was.
“Touché.”
When he says nothing further, I clear my throat. “Chicago.”
He nods, his expression turning thoughtful.
“What about you?” I ask, wanting to know every little insignificant detail about him until a clear picture is painted in my mind.
“I’m from a small town a few hours west of here in the middle of the state.”
I don’t ask for specifics since I’m not overly familiar with Wisconsin. We drive through Milwaukee and Green Bay to get to Door County. That’s about all I know.
“Are you here for the rest of the week?” His fingers reach over to ensnare mine.
“Yup, until Saturday morning.” Today is Tuesday, which means we have three days to spend together. If that’s what he wants. Maybe I’m jumping the gun and won’t see him again after he drops me off. A tightness gathers in my chest at the notion. Anxiously I ask, “What about you?”
“We’re heading home on Sunday. Football camp begins next week, so I need to get back for that.”
I knew he was an athlete. “What college do you attend?”
“I’m not in college.” A grin flashes across his face. In the sunlight, his teeth are almost blinding in their intensity. “I’ll be a senior in high school.”
“Really?” Holy moly. I find that difficult to believe. What happened? Did he flunk a few grades?
“Yup.” He seems pleased by the compliment. “You thought I was older?”
“Well, yeah.”
“How come?”
“Because...” Exactly what am I supposed to say? You’re so freaking built and muscular, you couldn’t possibly be in high school?
“Because,” he prompts, twisting toward me and propping himself up on his elbow. All those well-honed muscles ripple with the movement.
A smirk curls his lips as he notices my reaction. “Come on,” he cajoles, “I’m waiting.”
My guess is that Kingsley is used to girls falling all over him. Not only is he hot, he’s a nice guy on top of it. Even with my limited experience, I know that’s not easy to come by.
Instead of answering, I grumble, “I plead the fifth.”
He chuckles before lifting his hand and stroking his fingers against my jawline. “You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed.”
Then he must find me adorable quite often.
Is it weird that all I want to do is press myself against him?
“Summer?”
I blink out of those thoughts. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to kiss you,” he murmurs, voice filling with heat.
“Okay.”
Thank God.
He scoots closer, removing my glasses before doing the same with his own. His body hovers over mine as his lips descend. When the velvety softness of his tongue brushes over the seam of my mouth, I tilt my chin upward.
There’s a sweet tentativeness to his exploration. As if he doesn’t want to push me too far, too fast. I don’t realize my arms have tangled around his neck until I’m dragging him closer. His lips slide into a smile, and our teeth scrape against each other.
“You taste so sweet,” he murmurs before delving in for more. He’s all controlled finesse. Only giving me a little when all I want is everything now. The need pooling at my core is a new and heady sensation. Guys have kissed me before, but not like this. Not like they actually knew what they were doing.
When he finally draws away, my lips feel swollen and sensitive. As he picks up his head, I gradually blink back to the present and glance around, realizing with a start that the sun has dipped beneath the horizon and there’s a distinct chill to the air.
Exactly how much time has passed? It feels like only a matter of minutes.
“We should probably head back to the marina,” he murmurs.
Disappointment surges through me. How can the day be over already? It went by much too fast. All I want to do is hang out on the boat and feel his mouth roving over mine as the blistering sun beats down on us. I want to swim in the water and wrap my body around his. What I don’t want is to leave him.
“Okay,” I agree, knowing it’s the responsible thing to do.
Kingsley searches my eyes before pressing another kiss against my lips. His tongue slips inside my mouth on
e last time before he groans and rolls onto his back. He throws a muscular arm over his eyes, his breath erupting in short choppy bursts.
My gaze roves over him, sliding from his partially covered face, to his broad chest, tight abdominals, and—
I flick my wide gaze to his face, but his arm continues to shield his eyes. My attention is drawn back to the thick erection tenting his boardshorts.
Holy crow!
My teeth sink into my lower lip as I stare. I’m so tempted to reach out and stroke my fingers over the hard length. Instead, I squeeze my hand into a tight fist. A gasp leaves my lips when he jerks up, jumping to his feet.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, rushing toward the back of the boat.
“I—”
Have absolutely no idea what to say.
Silently, I rise to my feet before following. I find him standing in front of the steering console, staring at the dials and buttons. A guarded expression has settled over his features. The easy-going boy I spent the day with has vanished.
I want him back.
What’s the protocol for a situation like this? Am I supposed to pretend I didn’t notice his boner, or do I crack a joke to ease the strained atmosphere now permeating the air? I don’t have a clue. The thing is, we’ve had such an amazing day. I don’t want it to end on an uncomfortable note.
Carefully my hand flutters to his bare shoulder. “It’s not a big deal.”
He glances at me, his lips quirking before he jerks his shoulders to downplay the situation. “You turn me on.”
Happiness bursts inside me like a bubble. “You do the same to me.” Maybe it’s knowing that after this week, we’ll probably never see each other again and that prompts me to be more honest than I’d normally be comfortable with. There’s no reason to lie or hide my feelings from him.
His smile stretches into a genuine one as we exchange a long, heated look.
“We should go,” he says, clearing his throat.
I nod and take a seat on the bench, curling my legs beneath me before slipping the glasses over my eyes as Kingsley starts the engine and we head back to the marina.
This has been the best day of my life. And if I’m lucky, I’ll get to spend the next three with him.
Chapter Four
I wake the next morning with a grin plastered across my face. I haven’t been able to stop smiling since Kingsley dropped me off yesterday evening. We kissed for a solid thirty minutes in the front seat of his SUV. It was difficult to drag myself away from him.
We made plans to spend the entire day together and I can’t wait.
With a squeal of excitement, I toss back the covers and hop out of bed. Even though Kingsley won’t be here until ten, there’s no way I’ll be able to fall back to sleep again. If this were a Disney movie, birds would chirp on my windowsill and I’d be holding giddy convos with mice about what I’m going to wear on my date. Since that’s not the case, I dig through my suitcase to find a pink-striped bikini before changing. Then I throw on a coverup and float down to the kitchen to grab breakfast.
As if I could eat a bite...
I stumble to a halt at the sight that greets me. Mom is racing around, stuffing everything we brought with us for the week into bags. Dad is on the phone in the adjoining family room, pacing back and forth in front of the windows.
“Mom?” My gaze darts between them as a sinking sensation fills my belly. “What’s going on?”
This is not normal parental behavior. Yesterday, I came down to them sitting on the weathered deck, staring at the waves as they rolled toward shore, sipping their coffee, and looking less stressed than they had in a long time. It was nice to see. This kind of manic behavior resembles the crazy mornings in Chicago with Mom attempting to hustle us out the door so we aren’t late for school and she can make her eight o’clock morning meeting on time.
Another bad sign—her face is pale and drawn. The lines on her forehead are more pronounced than yesterday.
Mom doesn’t spare me a glance as she gathers up clothes, shoes, and books. “Your grandmother died this morning.”
“Grandma Rose?” My face scrunches as the question falls from my lips. Considering that my mother’s parents died years ago, it’s the only viable option.
“Yes.”
My gaze slides to my father before bouncing back to her.
This will sound terrible, but we don’t have a relationship with Grandma Rose. She and my father had a falling out years ago before my brother and I were born, so she’s never been a part of our lives. I’ve seen her a handful of times and honestly, from what I remember, she was kind of scary.
I wait for a bolt of grief to strike me, but it never materializes. Death, no matter who it happens to, is sad. But even so, that doesn’t explain what she’s doing. “Why are you packing everything up?”
Mom straightens before swinging around to face me. “Because we have to leave.” She glances at the clock on the microwave before huffing out a breath. “We need to be on the road in thirty minutes.” There’s a pause and I can almost see the wheels spinning in her head as she mentally ticks off the tasks that need to be accomplished before we go. “Can you do me a favor and make sure your brother is awake? You both need to get packed up and then bring your bags down so your father can load them into the car.”
“Leave? But why? We didn’t even know Grandma Rose.”
Shitty as it may sound, the words pop from my mouth before I can swallow them back down. Doesn’t Mom understand that I met the most amazing guy yesterday and am nowhere near ready to say goodbye?
Her brows jerk together as she blinks in surprise. “Because your grandmother died, Summer, and now your father needs to plan a funeral.” Her fingers flutter to her temples as she carefully massages the sides of her head before sucking in a breath, holding it for a heartbeat and then releasing it. “I realize you were looking forward to spending time at the beach and I’m sorry our vacation will be cut short but there’s nothing we can do about it. We have to go back.”
I bite my lip, hating myself for sounding like such a selfish brat. That’s not who I am. Well, not normally. Before she can say anything more, I blurt, “It’s all right, Mom. I’ll make sure Austin gets out of bed and packed up.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” She throws a grateful smile over her shoulder as she moves into the family room.
All the giddiness pounding through me moments ago seems like a distant memory as I trudge up the staircase and knock on my brother’s bedroom door. “Aus?”
Nothing.
Ever since arriving on Saturday, Austin hasn’t been crawling out of bed until ten o’clock, at the earliest. Back home, he’s up with the sun before leaving for practice. My brother lives for football. It’s his drug of choice. He’s been playing on the high school varsity team since he was a freshman. It’s probably the only reason he’s excited about school starting in September.
Unlike me, academics have never come easy to Austin. He was diagnosed with dyslexia at the end of third grade. By the time it was caught, it was too late, and he’d already come to hate school. If he didn’t have football to keep him in line, the guy would probably have major truancy issues. As his twin, I’ve always been there to help him, doing my best to smooth over issues with teachers and make his academic life more tolerable.
When thirty seconds slide by without so much as a rustle of sheets from inside the room, I knock again and raise my voice. When he fails to respond for a second time, I suck in a breath, squeeze my eyes tight, and fling open the door. I send up a quick prayer that he hasn’t slept in the buff. We might be twins, but I’m not looking to inflict any mental scars on myself.
Once in the darkened room, I take my chances and crack open an eye.
Phew. Totally covered.
“Austin,” I whisper-yell, “wake up!”
He grumbles and rolls over so that his back is to me. With an aggravated sigh, I step further into the room and give his shoulder a good shake.
“Stop it,�
�� he mumbles. “Can’t you see I’m sleeping?”
“Yeah, I know, but you need to get up.”
“Why?” The word comes out sounding more like an unintelligible grunt.
Knowing that Austin feels the same way I do about our grandmother, I don’t bother sugarcoating the situation. “Grandma Rose kicked the bucket.”
“Who?” Some of his grogginess falls away. He sounds genuinely perplexed, which only reconfirms that Dad’s mother wasn’t the kindly old granny she should have been to us.
“You know, the woman who birthed our father?” I pause before adding, “I guess she died this morning and now we need to head back to Chicago.” At least, I assume that’s where we’re going. We packed for the beach, not a funeral. I have nothing appropriate to wear. None of us do. A mental image of us showing up at the gravesite in full-on swimwear is enough to make me snort.
“The really mean one?” he asks, as the picture in my head dissolves.
Exactly. “Yup, that’s her.”
“Ugh.” He flops onto his back and throws an arm over his eyes to shield them from the nonexistent sun that should be pouring in through the windows. This place is like a cave with room darkening curtains. “That sucks.”
I don’t bother to clarify if he’s talking about Grandma Rose’s death or the fact that he needs to haul ass out of bed at this ungodly hour. If I were a betting woman, I’d go with the hour of the day.
Now that my work is done here, I head for the door. “Mom wants you up and packed so we can leave in thirty.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he gripes.
“I wish I were,” I murmur sympathetically.
“Fuck me.”
My sentiments exactly.
“Language,” I joke in my best Mom voice.
When he grumbles, I walk out of his bedroom and into my own. Thankfully, I never unpacked my clothing. I’ve been living out of my suitcase, so everything is still neatly folded inside.
King of Hawthorne Prep Page 3
