Page 35 of Seven Lost Summers
Their voices drift down the hall, the conversation easy, and I stay frozen in place, listening.
The second they step into the room, I lift my head.
“Hey,” Bianca says, her voice casual.
Her eyes land on me and hold for a second too long. The heat behind that stare is quiet, but fuck, I can feel it.
She shifts her attention to Theo, her gaze carrying the same weight.
I track the way he shifts on his feet, subtle but telling, like he senses that pull too. He swallows hard, eyes locked on hers, and for a beat, the air between them tightens. Whatever passed between me and her is still hanging in the air, but now the tension’s wrapped around him too. She’s got both of us off balance, and she fucking knows the effect she’s having.
I can’t take this anymore. Every second she holds that stare, the heat slams through my cock, my chest, every part of me that’s been straining too fucking hard to stay in control. I’m done pretending any of this is casual. Done acting like I don’t want her. I’m done holding back.
Fuck it.
My eyes track her as she crosses the room and drops her guitar case on Theo’s bed, the same spot she always claims without thinking.
My eyes drag down her body, settling on that short black skirt that’s been in my fucking dreams more times than I’ll admit. I’ve imagined slipping my hands underneath that skirt, just to see if she’d stop me—or pull me closer.
Doesn’t matter what we’re doing, my head’s gone the second she walks in wearing that. She has no idea what that does to me, or maybe she fucking does.
She turns around and faces us. That heat in her eyes… pure goddamn invitation.
I step toward her.
Her gaze lifts, locking on me as I close the distance.
When I stop in front of her, we’re so close I can feel the heat roll off her skin. Our bodies aren’t touching, but fuck, they could be. One more inch and I’d have her pressed up against me, right where I want her.
Her breath hitches, chest rising enough for me to know she wants it too. I can see it in the way her eyes darken, the way her lips part.
Fuck, I want to touch her. I want to grab her hips, shove that skirt up, and find out if she’s as wet as I’ve imagined every goddamn day since she walked into my life.
But I don’t. I stand frozen, drinking in the way she falls apart from nothing more than the space between us.
Before she can say anything, I grab her face and crash my mouth into hers. There’s no hesitation, no holding back. It’s pure fucking hunger. Weeks of wanting her, of dreaming about her under me, coming out all at once in a kiss that’s rough and messy.
Her lips are soft, but the way she kisses me back is anything but. She’s all tongue and heat, like she wants to tear me apart and swallow the pieces. My hand slides into her hair, tightening, tilting her head so I can kiss her harder. My other hand lands on her hip, fingers digging in.
My cock is rock hard, pressed right into her stomach, and I swear she gasps when she feels it. I don’t let her pull away. I chase that sound, that sharp little breath, like I need it to fucking breathe.
She clutches my shirt, fisting the fabric in both hands like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
I break the kiss briefly, long enough to breathe against her mouth.
“You feel that?” I growl, rocking my hips into her. “That’s what you fucking do to me.”
Her eyes are glassy, pupils blown, lips red and swollen from my kiss.
I don’t move away. Instead, I keep her there, trapped in the heat between us, our bodies pressed so close not even air could slip through. I want her ruined. I want her saying my name with that same breathless voice she was using to moan into my mouth right now.
And fuck, I’m only warming up.
Her gaze shifts. I turn my head in time to catch Theo lowering the amp near her guitar. His jaw’s tight, his movements clipped, too fucking careful, like he’s barely keeping it together.
Without a word, he turns and walks away.
Shame crashes over me, hot and choking. My skin still burns from her touch, my lips still swollen from the kiss I stole. The taste of her hasn’t even faded, and already, the weight of what I’ve done to him settles deep. I feel like a fucking dog for doing that, while he walks away from the girl we both want. I know I’ve already fucked it all up.
