Page 55 of Sweet Caroline
“It’s October!” He nearly laughs out the words. “The river is fucking glacial right now. Literally, itisglacial, pretty sure.”
“I know! Forget I even said that. Oh my God.” I search up and down the block, as if I might locate a hole I can crawl into.
His amused expression falls. “Wait, seriously, you’ve never been skinny dipping?”
“No!”
He drops his shoulders. “You poor, sheltered girl.”
“Ugh, you don’t know the half of it.” I roll my eyes.
“What do you mean?”
No. I can’t tell him.
Miles doesn’t need to know Fletcher wasn’t exactly adventurous in the bedroom. Not that any of my boyfriends before him were anything to write home about, either.
He studies me cautiously. “Are there other…activitiesyou haven’t tried?”
I stiffen.
Can he somehow hear my thoughts?
He dips his chin and drops his voice low. “Like…nakedactivities?”
Oh, God. He can definitely hear my thoughts.
“Miles!” I look away, sure my cheeks are bright red. When he holds out his hands in an innocent shrug, I add, “What? You want me to list them for you? Oh my God, this is so embarrassing.”
“There’s a list?”
My shoulders drop. I can’t do this—can’t drag out all the details of my unremarkable sex life—especially in public. How can I confess to this sexy, tattooed, confident goofball of a man that I’m pretty sure I’m his polar opposite in bed? Inexperienced. Boring. Awkward. And so unbelievably desperate to be none of those things.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “This feels like an indoor conversation.”
I throw my arms out at my sides. “You think?”
“Then c’mon,” he says, digging out his keys. “Let’s get outta here. Find somewhere to talk in private.” He opens the passenger door of his truck, chucks the folded hoodie out of the way, then gestures for me to get in.
I don’t move. “Where?”
“I know a good place.” He pumps his brows.
“Not exactly reassuring.”
“Aw, where’s your sense of adventure? Thought you wanted totry stuff.” He makes acome hithergesture, a hypnotic kind of delight glittering in his eyes. “C’mon. Let’s go make some mistakes!”
Biting my lip hard, I step past him and climb into the truck. Because… well,fuck it.
12
MILES
The old mountaintop fire lookout is more run-down than I remember, its wooden siding visibly weathered, even in the dark. The stairs to the top of the two-story tower creak a little under our weight, but any concern about safety is immediately replaced by the sight of Caroline climbing the stairs just ahead of me. I could bite those calves. Lick behind her knee, up to her…
Jesus. Get a grip, Miles.
She glances over her shoulder at me. “So, what is this, like a make-out spot for teenagers?”
