Page 13 of Wicked Serve

“What?”

“He’s not your boyfriend, is he?”

She flushes deeply enough, I can see it in the moonlight. “No. He’s just some guy.”

“He was getting pretty familiar.” I work my jaw. “You seemed uncomfortable.”

“I had it handled.”

“Did you?”

She just narrows her eyes. “What are you even doing here? Why aren’t you at school?”

It doesn’t surprise me that we crossed paths so soon. We’ve been magnetic since our very first kiss, shared in the back of the car on the way to my place after I took her to dinner at Per Se. Her strawberry lip gloss, the mischievous tilt of her smile, the way she moaned when I pressed her against the wall of the elevator with my hand up her skirt—I couldn’t forget it if I tried.

Right now, she’s in a tight yellow dress with tiny straps, her tan legs accentuated by heels. Her hair is in a smooth, high ponytail, but a couple loose pieces frame her face artfully. Glitter sparkles on her cheeks and across her collarbone.

If I leaned in for a kiss, would she push me away, or pull me closer?

“Remember the wedding in the Hamptons? Sagaponack?” I take a step in her direction, backing her against the nearest tree. She swipes her tongue over her lips. The glitter on her cheeks sparkles like stardust. “We split that bottle of Dom rosé.”

A tiny, surprised smile melts away some of the wariness in her expression. I’m still a live wire, but that smile relaxes me. After weeks of missing her, I’m hungry for every detail. I’ve been telling myself that the distance will help, but it hasn’t, and now there’s no distance at all. I drink in the ocean of her eyes, resisting the impulse to press my body against her warmth.

It should feel wrong. It’s not summer anymore, and anyone from the party could see us. But I don’t want to move away, and she must not either, because she doesn’t even twitch.

In the heels she’s wearing, she’s almost as tall as I am. It would be so easy to kiss her. I’d lick the gloss away, and she’d give me a delighted smile before nuzzling closer, the way she did all summer.

“I remember,” she says. Her eyes search mine. “We went skinny-dipping.”

“It was freezing.”

Her smile widens. “You mean invigorating.”

“I wouldn’t have gone in, except I was afraid you were going to drown.” I return her grin. “Would have been an inconvenience to the wedding guests.”

“You’re so full of shit,” she says with a snort.

I can’t help myself; I cup her chin, tilting her face up. She’s so pretty, I can’t stand it. All summer long, I kept coming back to her. I’d promise myself that I’d break things off, but then I’d think about the prospect of never holding her again, never kissing her, never tasting her, and my reservations went straight out the window.

“You danced for me, before that. On the sand, with your hair loose. Do you remember that, too?”

Her breath catches. “Of course. You thought it was silly.”

I shake my head. “No way.”

“You totally did.”

“You’re remembering it wrong.”

“Oh, am I?” She crosses her arms over her chest, which pushes together her small, perfect tits to the point of distraction. “You’re the one who just showed up on my campus out of the blue, and now you’re calling me a liar? Wow.”

“Our campus.”

“What?”

“I thought for sure your brother would be going around telling everyone he knows.” I nearly tug on her ponytail, but stop myself at the last moment. “Interesting.”

“Telling everyone what?”

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