Page 59 of Seven Summer Weekends

“OK, go!” she said with a funny sense of urgency.

“Where did you grow up?”

“In a suburb of Chicago. You?”

“Jersey. College?”

“School of the Art Institute of Chicago.”

“Nice! Wesleyan undergrad, then Columbia for journalism.”

“I may have guessed both, smarty-pants.”

“Favorite author, aside from me, of course?”

“John Irving. You?”

“Same.”

“C’mon.”

“Pinky swear,” he said, holding out said pinky.

They looped their pinkies together, and the tiny touch sparked ripples of warmth.

The cross-examination changed course.

“You’re very beautiful,” Ben whispered, placing his other hand on her leg, its smoothness resulting in a shy smile. She nodded, a permission of sorts, and he released her pinky and slid both hands upward, beneath her dress. Her nakedness registered on his face, and his smile widened. His hands grazed her bottom before he rested them on her torso, pulling her toward him and realizing how they were somewhat lined up. Toes against toes, lips against lips.

“And tall,” he added with an even wider smile. He brushed a wayward hair from her eyes and kissed her gently on her lips. When he reached his hand between her legs, he was the one who moaned. He pulled her dress over her head, and even with the bright light flooding the room—making her all the more naked—she completely gave in to it. She anticipated every movement of his hungry eyes and even hungrier mouth. By the time they actually made love, she couldn’t control her body from shaking.

She had seen the wordsquivering loinsin books, and it always made her laugh.Quivering loins, written by men like Ben, only to be topped in the humorous category by a throbbing member. But there they both were. Her loins quivering, his member throbbing. Her thoughts stopped.

They lay spent on the floor afterward, and he whispered, breathlessly, “Addie?”

“Yes, Ben?” She suddenly liked her nickname.

“Was this your one-night stand?” he asked. She couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking.

She rolled over on her side to face him.

“It’s not even noon—ask me again in the morning.”

They both laughed, and he tickled her side, which led to them starting up again. She wrangled away from him, stood, and stepped back into her dress.

“Come with me,” she said.

He took her hand as she led them to her bedroom. The room was still cold from the air she had blasted the night before. The unmade bed, with its white rustled sheets and linen duvet, was crisp, delicious, and inviting. Addison pulled her dress back overhead, and they found each other, under the sheets. Entwined in each other’s arms, they drifted off.

An hour or so later, Addison slipped away to the bathroom. Ben didn’t flinch. She wondered if he always slept so soundly, especially in the middle of the day. On her return, she watched him sleep for a minute or two—his broad chest rising and falling and rising and falling. A faded suntan line cut across his triceps. She traced it with her finger before leaning over him and depositing butterfly kisses on his eyelids. Still, he didn’t stir. She kissed the place where the dimple usually appeared on his cheek. No movement. She straddled her legs around his torso again—careful not to put her weight on him—and planted more kisses, circling his chest and tracing the line that divided his abs with her mouth. He finally stirred, and she continued kissing and teasing and running her hands everywhere but where he wanted it most.

He opened his eyes and looked up at her mischievously, before scooping her up and flipping her onto her back. He couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Should we get dressed—go to the beach? It’s gorgeous out,” Addison asked afterward. The pressure to enjoy the beach on asunny day always weighed on her. Ben didn’t seem to care. Addison was still a newbie, but after all his years on the island, Ben was an old schooler at this point. Old schoolers knew better than to reproach themselves for missing a great beach day. It happens. Plus, there was no doubt that the two of them sitting together on the beach would fuel the gossip mill.

“Or we can watchLove Is Blind?” he suggested instead.

“Shut up, you watchLove Is Blind? I may love you,” Addison said, not thinking much of her revelation.

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