Page 8 of Better Than the Beach
“I’m Cassandra. Er,Cassie,” she rasps with a small smile. “I’m Cassie. Stranded traveler at the mercy of your mother’s kindness.”
I watch her lips move as she speaks. They’re pouty and pink, the bottom slightly plumper than the top, and they hitch up higher on the right than the left. A small, flirtatious smirk that seems innocent but is likely anything but. An image of her lips wrapped around my cock flashes through my mind, and I squeeze her hand once more before dropping it.
“A pleasure,” I say, and her eyes scan my face before falling to my mouth. “And you can keep the clothes as long as you need.”
“Oh.” She giggles a little—a light, tinkling sound that reminds me of sleigh bells or wind chimes—then tugs on the sweatshirt. “Thank you. I only have sundresses, so Nan lent me these.”
“Yes, she’s thoughtful like that.” I glance at the kitchen table, but my mother is nowhere to be found. Only the teacup and her comics are left. “Hmm. She apparently also has things to do today.”
Cassie fidgets in the doorway, her eyes taking in everything in the kitchen except for me, and I bristle. I want her attention back on me. I pull another mug from the cupboard.
“Tea, coffee, or hot chocolate?” I ask her, and when her gaze falls back on me, I smile.
“Oh, um, hot chocolate, I guess? When in Rome...”
I chuckle and slide her mug under the instant coffee maker before grabbing a hot chocolate pod from the basket Ma keeps stocked for guests.
“So, where were you headed, Cassandra?”
“You can call me Cassie. I don’t know why I said Cassandra.”
I can hear the slight warble in her voice. When I study her, I see her pulse fluttering in her neck. The elevated rising and falling of her breasts. The way she fidgets with her fingers and the hem of my old sweatshirt. How she bites her bottom lip as she watches me fix her drink. She’s attracted to me, and she’s nervous, and it’s thrilling.
I’ve spent my entire academic career studying human behavior, but no subject has ever intrigued me quite as much as the woman standing in front of me.
I step into her space and hand her the mug of hot chocolate. When she doesn’t back away from me, my heart leaps in triumph. She seems to lean in closer to me, and the air between us sparks.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and I watch as she wraps her hands around the mug and lifts it to her lips, blowing lightly on the hot liquid. It takes all my strength to pull my eyes off her mouth.
“You’re welcome.” I motion to the table where we both sit. “So where were you headed,Cassie?”
“Hawaii,” she says on a sigh. “I was supposed to meet up with friends in Honolulu for the holidays. One of my sorority sisters is from there, so we were going to stay with her family. But now I don’t know when I’ll get there.”
“The forecast is saying we’re going to get hit with more snow this afternoon,” I tell her, and her shoulders fall as she looks out the window at the foot of snow that’s already fallen.
“I know. And more ice after midnight. I’ve been refreshing my weather app like an obsessed person. If I’m lucky, I might be able to get to Honolulu just before Christmas.”
“How long was your trip supposed to be?”
“Two weeks.” She takes a sip of her hot chocolate, and my eyes track the movement, watching her throat contract as she swallows. “The plan was to celebrate Christmas and New Year’s on the island, then fly back to reality on January 1st.”
“That can still happen,” I reassure with a smile. “You won’t get the full two weeks, but you’ll have enough time to get a tan.”
She grins and rolls her eyes. The sight makes my chest tighten.
“Here’s hoping,” she says, and takes another sip. “So, are you Mallory’s uncle?”
“I am.” I nod, realization hitting me. “Is Mallory the one who got you the room?”
“She is. I owe her big.”
“Mallory is a good kid,” I say, and Cassie snorts.
“Kid? She’s older than me.”
The thought stops me short, and I again find my eyes wandering over the beautiful woman in front of me. I can’t see Mallory without thinking about the tiny terror in pigtails and pull-ups she used to be. But Cassie? She isfarfrom a kid.
“How old are you?” I ask as I study her. She clears her throat and sits up straighter.
