“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” When I don’t answer, he continues, “We’re going to take a shower, and then I’m going to fuck another orgasm or five out of you.”
He walks into his bathroom and turns on all the showerheads before shucking off his swim shorts. He turns toward me, and I catch a glimpse of his dick. It jerks as his eyes travel up and down my body. He holds the glass shower door open for me, and as soon as I pass him, he follows me in. I turn and pull my hair down, letting the water run through it.
He reaches behind me and grabs a bottle of shampoo; after squeezing some onto his palm, he starts working it through my hair. He helps me rinse it out and repeats the process with conditioner. Then he grabs body wash and works it between his palms into a rich lather. He runs his hands all over my body. It’s not in a sexual way, it’s much deeper, more caring and tender. He cleans me like he cherishes every touch, every second of our time together. I return the favor and do everything he did to me to him, enjoying the feel of his muscles and warm, slick skin under my hands.
After we dry off, he leads me back to his bed. He pulls the covers down for us and lies down beside me after I crawl in. We’re facing each other and his hand rests on my hip.
“Our first time sucked for you, didn’t it?” he asks.
“Yeah, kind of,” I say softly, “I’ve never once regretted that it was you though.”
“Me either. I’ve never regretted anything about that night, aside from it being the last time I spoke to you.” He stares into my eyes for a minute, and I drown in their inky depths. “I’d like to make that night up to right now, if you want.”
I close the distance between us and kiss him. If we’re giving each other one night, then I’m all in for it. His hand travels from my hip up to ribs, and his thumb brushes the curve of my breast. I let my hands rove all over his body, committing how he feels to memory. When my hand wraps around his dick and pumps, he releases a sexy groan and rests his forehead against mine.
I spend the rest of the night hyper-focused on cataloging every sound, every taste, every sensation of him moving within me. The way his lips feel against my skin as he marks every possible inch of me. The way he is so in tune with what my body wants and needs from him. He puts my pleasure first every step of the way, erasing the awkwardness of our first time and cementing a high standard for any future lovers.
I start drifting off to sleep while Levi’s fingers run slowly up and down my spine.
“Tell me a secret, something you’ve never told anyone,” Levi says quietly.
“I love swimming, but I don’t want to compete at the level my dad wants me to,” the answer flies off my tongue before I even realize that’s what I’m going to say.
Levi’s hand pauses for a second and then continues rubbing my back, “You know I can relate to that.”
I remember the day that Frank took Levi’s first love, basketball, away from him. We had just gotten back to camp for our second summer at Foster’s.
“Hey,” I say as I walk up behind Levi.
He’s standing on the rocky shore of the lake, past the beach and dock, skipping rocks across the dark, glassy surface in the moonlight. The moon is almost full and reflecting off the lake and lighting a halo over Levi’s floppy blond hair. He turns, and his eyes are dark and sad.
“Hi,” he manages a weak smile and wraps me in a tight hug.
“What’s wrong?” I ask while I squeeze him back.
“Dad called the coaches here today and said I have to focus on football. No more basketball even though it’s my favorite.” He turns away from me again and hunts for the perfect skipping rock.
“That’s dumb. Parents suck.”
“Football is stupid. I should just start throwing crappy passes and dropping snaps.” He sends the rock across the lake and then collapses onto a boulder. I have to suppress a smile because there is no way my competitive friend would purposefully suck at anything. “Sit with me.”
I think about telling him to ask instead of order, but he’s so down I can’t say no. I sit beside him, and we stare out over the water for the rest of the night.
“Your turn,” I say from where I’m tucked against him.
“I don’t want to take over the bank. I want to teach and coach,” he admits.
I pause for a bit, thinking about how unexpectedly awesome he’d be as a coach and teacher. He’s so warm and encouraging it actually makes perfect sense. “I can see that for you. You’d be a great teacher and coach. Do you know where you want to teach? What level?”
“High school or college, coach high school or younger though. College coaching is too focused on money.” He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “It doesn’t matter though, I’m the only heir to the bank in the family and that’s important.”
He reminds me so much of how he was night by the lake. Defeated and resigned to a life he isn’t interested in. I have a feeling I’m one of the only people he lets see him like this, and it does crazy things to my heart. Reckless things.
I run my fingertips over the dips and valleys of his abs while I remind myself that come tomorrow, we’re strictly stepsiblings. Maybe we can work our way back to being best friends. Now that I have him back in my life, I can’t imagine wanting him gone again. I feel lighter with him beside me, like his golden looks and persona illuminate the dark shadows that can creep in. He’s my torch in the night.
“Are you happy?” I tilt my head back, so I can look him in the eye.
He looks at me. “I am right now.”