Page 27 of The Forbidden Summer
“I...” I start, but I can’t find the words. My body’s still humming from the kiss, and my mind’s too tangled up in the feeling of him.
“We’re not done,” he murmurs roughly, like it’s hard for him to speak at all.
I know we’re not. Not with the taste of him still on my tongue. In fact, we’re just getting started.
Waylon
His lips are still warm against mine, even though the rain is soaking us through, and I don’t want to pull away.
But I have to. Just an inch, enough to get a glimpse of his face. His wide eyes are still locked onto mine like he’s trying to convince himself this is real. There’s a softness there, a vulnerability that I’ve never seen before. His hair is plastered to his forehead, rain dripping from his chin, but in that moment, he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but the words catch in my throat. What do I even say now? What can I say to makesense of this?
Van reaches up and brushes the side of my face gently, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he touches me too much. His thumb runs along the curve of my jaw, and I feel a shiver go through me.
“You okay?” His voice is hoarse, like he’s struggling to breathe too, like he’s just as affected by this as I am. I nod, unable to say anything, the knot in my stomach tightening, and I know it’s not just nerves. It’s something deeper.
“I—yeah. Are you?” My voice is barely above a whisper, unsure if I’m asking about the kiss or what comes next.
Van’s lips twitch into the smallest of smiles. “More than okay.”
If I’m being honest with myself, I knew he would be. He’s wanted this for a long time. Maybe I just needed to know the reality of it was as good as his fantasy was.
The kiss wasn’t just a kiss. It was a catalyst. It’s like everything we’ve both been tiptoeing around finally collided, and I don’t think either of us really knows what to do with it yet.
But as he steps back, pulling away just enough to feel the loss of his heat, the awkwardness mounts. Neither of us says anything more. We don’t have to. It’s there, unspoken. Loud.
What comes next? After the kiss, how far will I take this?
Finally, after what feels like a lifetime of just standing there, Van clears his throat, like he’s trying to ground himself. “We should probably... you know... get out of the rain. We’re gonna drown out here.”
I chuckle, my breath still shaky from the kiss. “Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”
We don’t move immediately. I think we’re both just letting it settle. Just standing there, lost in the storm, with everything that’s happened between us hanging heavy in the air like thehumidity. And when we finally start walking back toward the cabin, side by side, there’s a new kind of closeness between us.
A closeness that doesn’t need words.
Van strips off his shirt as we approach the porch, his damp skin glistening in the gloomy light. He races for the door with that familiar, confident stride, but before he disappears inside, he glances back at me. The look is quiet, but it hits me like a jolt of electricity. A silent invitation to join him.
For a moment, I freeze, caught off guard. That one look, full of heat and promise, almost makes me trip over my own two feet. My pulse spikes, and my mind floods with the image of us together, the steam rising around us, his wet skin pressed against mine.
God, what I wouldn’t give to take him up on that unspoken offer, to step into the shower with him, wrap him up in my arms, and feel the warm water running over us. To feel his heartbeat against mine, the way his breath would hitch if I kissed him again, if I let myself go completely.
But as tempting as it is, I know better. I’m not ready for that yet.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to pull my gaze away, but it’s like my body’s locked in place, still feeling the pull of his invitation. A part of me aches to move forward, to close the distance between us and make this thing real. But that’s a fantasy, a dream that can wait. We’ve got time.
Baby steps.
The sound of running water from the bathroom heckles me as I move about the kitchen, heating two steaming mugs of cocoa, Van’s favorite. The unmistakable sound of a fist slapping against skin echoes through the thin walls. He’s jacking off in the shower, and although he’s not broadcasting it, the soundand the image it creates in my mind are brighter than a flashing neon sign.
The sound tapers off, followed by the softest whimper, and I know he’s reached satisfaction. I also know he was thinking of me. Of our kiss, imagining things went further. He’ll continue to push for more, and I have no idea how I’ll find the strength to say no when he does.
I’m completely defenseless against him. Van is too beautiful, too good, toomine. My sweet boy.
He was always more mine than his grandmother’s. I remember when he was younger, always right there at my side, a constant presence like my own shadow. He’d follow me around, asking a thousand questions, absorbing everything I did, trying to imitate me in ways that were both endearing and humbling. It was flattering as hell, watching him look at me like I was some kind of hero, and over time, he became the light of my life.
But now, now that he’s grown into this young man—this too-gorgeous, too-sweet-for-words man—he shines even brighter than he ever has before. His beauty, his kindness, everything about him draws me in like a magnet, and I can’t look away even if I tried. And believe me, I’ve tried. Tried to guard myself from these feelings that threaten to pull me under, tried to keep a distance, to not let it go too far.
