Page 17 of Stolen Kisses

In this one, it was just us.

Hugging. Huge smiles on our faces.

Taken in the Bahamas for a family vacation when I was fifteen.

“I’m sorry, little B. I’ll make this up to you, I swear.” Placing the frame down, I noticed my name on the small square box and smiled. She had gotten me something.

That ache that had been present for days lessened. Just a tiny bit.

I switched our packages, placing my gift for her beside the picture with a small rose I’d stolen from my mother’s entryway arrangement. Inside my gift were two items I wanted her to have.

To remember me while I got my head on straight.

One, the picture she’d asked to keep from my graduation night dinner.

And the second, a small charm for her bracelet. It was rose gold and had the word best friend engraved around the round piece—pretty and delicate, just like her.

I hoped it helped her understand that this was all I could offer. That she’d always be mine in that small capacity.

***

Chapter 6:

Sunday Funday #1

IN A PAST LIFE I had to have done something extraordinary to be given such a gift. Being in her mere presence was nothing short of entering a private oasis. Nirvana.

Motherfuck. My cock was hard—pushing against the flimsy material of my board shorts, wanting to get closer. To seek out her heat and envelop myself in heaven.

She bent over, and I twitched.

Had to stand closer to the grill to mask my baser male urges.

These shorts hid nothing. Showed everything.

I was throbbing over the curvaceous little body a mere twenty feet from me. Tempting me. Offering her body to this thirsty brute.

Bailey looked like temptation incarnate in her naughty little turquoise bikini. It was micro, with fringes over the two triangles that barely covered her breasts. And the bottoms, son of a bitch, were almost non-existent.

A small scrap of fabric that tied at the sides and molded onto her curves outlining everything I was desperate to taste.

My restraint was gone. She knew this too.

Every giggle that met my ears was all the confirmation I needed.

Bailey had me by the balls and was enjoying every torturous second.

“Go talk to her,” Dad said from beside me five minutes after I’d thrown the burgers down to cook. He didn’t need to elaborate on just who he was referring to—it was more than obvious. “Your uncle Manny and I can handle this.”

In each hand, he held a beer and proceeded to give me one.

“Thanks.” I took a few sips. “Let me set you up here and—”

He held a hand up, silencing me. “Go on. Besides, I have a bet going with your mother I’d like to win.”

“Are you kidding me? How large is the pot?”

For his part, Dad shrugged in an unapologetic manner. No shame. “Son, the only person who didn’t see this coming was you. Not my fault you’re a blind idiot.”

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