Page 26 of The Summer of ’98

Leroy shouted again. “Put some clothes on, you fool!

I was still standing in the corner of the room with my hands pressed against my eyes, afraid of what I would see if I were to look. The voices of the brothers came closer and it sounded like a little bit of a scuffle was taking place—very close.

“All right, all right,” Noah grunted. “I’m going. Lord, chill out.”

“Shit, forgive me if I don’t want my girl to see you naked.”

“She might want a trade-in.”

A loud smack against bare skin sounded, followed by Noah’s ouch. Silence settled after that and I was seeing colorful dots in the black from holding my eyes so darn hard.

A large pair of hands settled over mine and I let them lower my arms. “It’s okay now.”

“That was, um—”

“Pathetic,” Leroy interrupted, and I looked at him, realizing that he was in a towel, still damp from the shower. I had been waiting to see him like this again and it was not disappointing. “He has no shame. Drives me insane.”

I swallowed, a little flustered at how hot and bothered he was making me. “I can tell.”

The air felt thick as he stepped closer and put an arm on the wall beside my head. “How am I making you feel right now?”

“Breathless.”

He dragged his finger down the length of my jaw and took my chin between his index and thumb. “In a good way?”

“The best.”

His hold on my jaw tightened as he smashed our mouths together and pressed me against the wall. I would never get enough of this. I loved how equally senseless and overwhelmed I became when our tongues danced together, and his hands roamed over me. He used his knee and pushed my thighs apart, pressing himself against me so that I could feel how much I’d wound him up.

He dragged his mouth lower, down my jaw, tasting me, sucking on the tender spot beneath my ear as his hands rested on my waist. His fingertips dug in, hard, and I gasped, surprised to feel how good it felt. As he kissed his way back up my throat, his hands glided upwards under the tank top. I whimpered with need when his hands grazed beneath my breasts. I was on fire. I didn’t want to wait for him another moment longer. I needed him so much.

My hands came to the front of his chest and I dragged them down, feeling his toned, chiseled torso as we kissed with a passion that I didn’t believe existed. His masculine groan reverberated right through me and it felt as though I would combust at the simple sound of his arousal.

“I’m hungry!”

We came to an abrupt halt when Cass’s shrill voice sounded from downstairs.

“No, no, no,” Leroy growled, his hand tucked in the back of my shorts as he cupped my butt. “I thought she’d left.”

“Ellie? Leroy? Let’s go and get food. I’m starving.”

Leroy exhaled a long breath, his disappointment evident as he wrapped his fist in my hair. “When am I going to get to pleasure you, Els?”

His voice was so low, so raspy, and drenched in desire. It felt as though an acrobatic performance was taking place in my stomach and I practically panted as I answered him. “Soon, I hope.”

“Soon,” he nodded and kissed me again before he pushed away and turned around. I watched his taut back and low-hanging towel, which revealed the plump muscles of his firm butt as he left the room.

We met Cass at the bottom of the staircase, after Leroy got dressed. She was lying on her back, sunglasses on, a halo of curls around her head. “These cold tiles are so refreshing, wanna join?”

“Where are we going to eat?” Leroy asked, sounding on the edge of impatience.

Cass grunted, rolling over and heaving herself off the ground, the back of her shoulders indented with lines from the tile gaps. “Rocky Ryan’s,” she slurred. “I need a burger, I need a milk shake—”

“If you drink a milk shake,” Leroy pointed at her as he held the door handle, “I’ll be leaving you there.”

She screwed her face into a guilt-ridden smile, lips pursed and cheeks raised. “I’m lactose-intolerant,” she told me. “But I love a milk shake. Fries dipped in milk shake.”

“My friend Amber likes fries dipped in soft serve.”

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