Page 44 of Backstroke

I take a deep breath, trying to control the anger boiling inside me. “You should be proud to be with me, Fallon. Not hiding it.”

She crosses her arms as she rolls her eyes at me. “You’re so full of yourself. You know that? I’m not hiding anything! And you can’t just take my phone and read my messages. That’s not okay,” she fumes.

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She’s right, but admitting it feels impossible. Instead, I shove the phone back into her hands.

“If you ever refer to me as your friend again, I’ll show you how unfriendly I can be to your bare ass.” She scoffs and tries to pull away.

“Come on.” I grab her hand, dragging her with me.

“Wait! What about my car? It’s at the beach.” She stops on the sidewalk, trying to wrench my hand from hers.

“What? Scared someone will steal that piece of shit?” I laugh as her face turns serious.

“I’m sorry I’m not some rich asshole who has everything handed to me. Iactually workfor my things,“ she seethes.

In a flash, I’ve got her neck in my hands, loving the power I have over her. “Don’t talk about things that you know nothing about,” I growl against her lips. “You think my life is fuckingrainbows and unicorns? Huh? You have no fucking idea.” I release her as if she burned me, taking a step back. We stand there for a moment with our eyes never leaving each other’s. I hate that I revealed something about myself to her, but I felt the need to defend my life.

Fallon rubs her neck. “Then tell me,” she says softly, her voice trembling, but determined. “Tell me what it’s really like.”

I clench my fists, the urge to lash out warring with the desire to open up. “You wouldn’t understand,” I mutter, turning away.

“Try me,” she challenges, stepping closer. “I’m not as clueless as you think.”

“Come on.” There’s no need to tell her anything. My own father despises me. Fallon will too, eventually. The thought makes my chest ache.Fuck, what has she done to me?

“I’ll have someone bring your car here by morning,” I concede as we climb the stairs to my house. Since it’s Friday, the boys are hanging around drinking with some chicks hanging off of them. One in particular sees me and comes trotting over to stand in front of me.

“Remy, I was wondering when you would show up,” she slurs. Clearly she’s been here a while. She runs her nails along my chest, but I grab her hand tightly and push her away.

“Don’t touch me, Becca,” I growl. She looks confused until she spots Fallon behind me, and her expression turns menacing.

“Don’t tell me you’re sleeping with fat chicks now,” she laughs, looking Fallon up and down. “All you had to do was ask me–” but I don’t let her finish before I slam her against the wall.

“Don’t you say a fucking word about Fallon,” I snarl in her fake tanned face. “You’re just a slut that’s been passed around the team, because that’s all you’re good for. Now get the hell out before I throw you out myself.” I release my hold on her, making her stumble in her five inch stripper heels.

She scowls at Fallon, hitting her shoulder as she walks past. The small insult leaves me seeing red. I’m about to pull that bitch back, when Fallon places her hand on my arm. Instantly the rage dissipates as her warmth travels through my body.

“She’s not worth it,” she interjects. I just nod, turning around to lead her through the crowd that gathered to watch the altercation. Fucking nosy snobs.

“Nix.” I toss Fallon’s keys to him. “Make sure Jake gets these.” He nods, then goes back to talking with the chick on his lap. They’re all the same. FishNettes are the equivalent to Puck Bunnies, just with swimmers. I used to be into that shit because it was easy access, but since meeting Fallon, I can see them for what they really are—holes to fill. The realization hits me like a freight train. I’m in way over my head with Fallon, but for some reason, I don’t want to be saved.

We climb the stairs in silence. I can tell there are questions on the tip of her tongue, but for some reason she isn’t voicing them. I open my room, allowing her in before I join.

The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from a small lamp on the nightstand. Fallon stands in the middle of the room, looking around, her arms wrapped around herself. I close the door behind us, the lock echoing in the quiet space.

I can’t wait any longer, so I close the distance between us and slam my lips down on hers. The salt from the beach air and her strawberry Chapstick blend together, creating a taste that’s uniquely her. Fallon gasps in surprise, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans into the kiss, her hands gripping my shirt as if she’s afraid to let go.

The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and desperate. I can feel the tension melting away, replaced by a burning need. My hands move to her waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us. Her body fits perfectly against mine and for a moment, everything else fades away.

Her moans fill the air, urging me on further. I pull back for a moment and spin her around so I can get her out of this dress.

“Remy!” she squeals as she catches herself on the bed frame.

“It was either this or I was going to rip it off,” I snap, pulling the zipper down, then forcing the material to pool at her feet. Having her soft, milky skin on display for me has my cock straining against my pants. My fingers trace the dove tattoo on her shoulder, making me wonder if each of them have a special meaning to her. Fallon doesn’t seem like the type to do something because everyone else is. She’s the opposite, in fact, which makes me wonder what they represent to her.

“Fuck,” I groan, licking and nipping across her shoulders. Fallon doesn’t know the effect she has on me. I rip her thong from her body, making her gasp.

I push her forward on my bed so her ass is high in the air, then drop to my knees.

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