Page 69 of Summer Heat

“We should probably take a shower before we fall asleep,” I suggest, looking at the marks we left on her creamy skin, feeling some sort of sick satisfaction that I left the love bite on her neck and that the faint bite mark on her inner thigh is from Brady. It might just be for one summer, but Greer is ours. Mine.

“What time is it?” she asks sleepily.

“It’s after ten,” I inform her, stretching over to check Brady’s phone on the nightstand.

“Fuck!” she exclaims, sitting up. “I think I should go. I don’t want to, but my parents were expecting me for dinner and I never showed up. They might be looking for me. Daddy will be worried.”

The mention of her father is like a cold shower, and I observe her as she gathers her bikini from the floor. What we just did doesn’t change anything. She’s still the boss’s daughter, and she’s still as out of our league as ever.

I wish she was just one of the resort staff members for the umpteenth time since I drove her on Coral Cove.

“I’m going to go,” she says, looking at me and Brady. “I left my bag on the beach, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m going to go back for it tomorrow morning. I need to get to my room and think of what to say if my parents have been looking for me.”

“Whoa, baby, slow down.” Brady stops her, grabbing her forearm. “First off, you can’t walk back to the main building in your bikini. It’s breezy today and it still gets cold after dark. Here, take my hoodie.”

She smiles, accepting the garment from Brady. “Thank you. But I have to stop borrowing your stuff, or at this rate, you’ll be out of clothes by the end of the summer.”

My best friend chuckles. “I’ll be fine. I can’t let you catch a cold. We have a race to win, remember? Let’s go. One of us can go back for your bag and our old surfboards, and one of us can walk you back.”

Her independence is hot and infuriating at the same time. “I’m going to be okay, the resort is safe,” she says, zipping the hoodie all the way up to her neck. “Plus, I’d rather not be seen walking back with you, I…”

She’s right.

We just said that we should keep this thing between us, and I know that my friends and I have more to lose if we’re caught, but it pisses me off all the same.

“Safe?” I snort, unable to hide the bitterness in my tone. “Did you hear Tristan earlier? And before you even try to argue that you’ve already kicked him in the nuts once, don’t forget that the fucking asshole doesn’t seem to be capable of learning the fucking meaning of the word no. I’m going to walk you back, at least until you’re off the beach. It’s nonnegotiable. Come on.”

I know leaving the cottage together is risky, but I don’t care. Tristan and his friends aren’t the only threat around here. Staff and guests party all night, and I don’t want Greer to bump into some drunken idiot who’s looking for an after-party hookup.

I escort Greer to the end of the beach, using every last ounce of my self-control to keep myself from kissing her good night. “Come out on your balcony in twenty minutes. I’m going to wait until it’s safe to walk to the main building, but I want to be sure that you made it to your room.”

If she wants to argue, she has the good sense not to. “Okay. Good night, Matt.”

“Good night, pretty girl,” I whisper, watching her until she’s out of sight.

Greer

My door clicks shut as I press my back against it and blow out a heavy breath. Holy hell, sneaking around is going to give me a freaking heart attack.

I press my palm flat against my racing heart over Brady’s hoody. Sneaking around just feels so naughty, and it’s not something I’m used to. I’ve always been the good girl, leaving all the chaos and mischief to Chelsea.

Speaking of naughty… Lifting my hand from my chest, I press the tips of my fingers to my tingling, swollen lips.

It might feel like a dream, but there’s evidence all over my body that suggests that tonight was real life and no dream at all.

“Well, well, well,” Chelsea’s voice calls out from inside my dark bedroom, making me yelp and press back harder into the door. “Look at Daddy’s little angel sneaking into her room dressed in a man’s clothes with hair that screamsjust fucked.”

Oh no, this is just what I don’t need right now.

Reaching along the wall blindly, I find the light switch and flick the lights on. My sister is sprawled out on my bed wearing a dress that shows off way too much skin, and the flash of her crotch that I get when she swings her legs off the side of my bed tells me that she’s not wearing any panties under the dress. Goody.

Even though, for once in my life, I’m not in a position to judge since I’m only wearing my bikini under Brady’s hoodie.

Chelsea sits up and smooths out the invisible wrinkles on her dress. I really want her to get her bare butt off of my bed. Not that it will matter at this point, because I’m going to have to talk to housekeeping to have the comforter replaced—there’s no way I can sleep with it now. Hopefully the pillow still smells like Brady, because then I won’t need to replace that.

“Tell me, little sister, who have you been out playing with? I know it wasn’t Tristan, because he was actuallyatdinner tonight,” she says in a sickly sweet tone dripping with malice.

Well, at least for once I don’t have to hide the fact that I want to throw up every time she insists I’m chasing after that sleaze bag. Just thinking about him and that stupid bet makes my blood boil. The fact that my sister knows about it and doesn’t care makes me want to drag her out of my room by her hair, and I’m not a person prone to violence, but those two sure are changing that about me.

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