His laugh sounds kind of pained. “Lo,seriously. Stop talking about your tongue on any part of my body.”
I giggle as he stands, pulling me upright with him.
And we start back toward the beach house, following the pair of footprints in the sand that led us here.
Running when the raindrops begin to fall, our hands swinging between us like the lovesick kids we used to be.
36
Elle rolls over, her nose scrunching adorably and her hair a wild tangle, spread across the pillow like seaweed. She yawns, then smiles. “How long have you been up for?”
An hour and twelve minutes.
I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night for the first time since I’ve been outside the four walls of Leavenworth Penitentiary, and it’s amazing how much a solid stretch of sleep helps you feel wide awake. I’m used to waking up with dry, gritty eyes and often a pounding head, forcing myself to roll out of bed and chug enough coffee to get me to work.
When I woke up seventy-two minutes ago, I just stared at Elle. That’s all I’ve been doing for the past hour-plus.
“Ry?”
“Not long,” I reply.
She rolls over so she’s facing me, tucking her hands beneath her cheek. Stares at me like she likes the sight—me in her bed.
“I like waking up to you,” I say.
Elle blushes, and it’s a beautiful sight. We’ve known each other since we were fourteen. I love that I can still make her blush.
I reach out and carefully place the lighthouse keychain that’s been folded in my palm since I woke up. It wobbles on the mattress, but rights itself.
She glances at it.
“Happy birthday. It reminded me of you.”
“Tall and striped?”
I laugh. “No. Brave. Standing alone, facing storms. You don’t need me for that. You never did.”
Her face softens as she rubs a finger against the top tip of the lighthouse. The cupola, as I learned yesterday. “I love it. Thank you.”
“Also got you this.” I grab the condom off the bedside table and toss it to her.
Elle picks it up. She’s blushing again. Or still. “Gee, thanks.”
I grin. “Found a box of them in one of the bathroom drawers.”
She makes a face. “Keira told me this is the room her parents stay in.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s defective.”
Elle sits up, swinging her legs off the mattress. We fooled around last night, but she put pajamas on before falling asleep. I watch her walk across the bedroom in the matching set, one arm tucked behind my head.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
Not the response I was hoping for to thelet’s have sexsuggestion.
“To brush my teeth.”
I groan a laugh. “Elle, I don’t care.”