Page 12 of Moonlit Temptation

It's the best I can offer her. My heart aches, still coming to terms with the fact that the only feeling of home I've ever had is no longer here.

6

EVANGELINE

I take a deep breath,and I can almost taste the scent of honeysuckle in the air. The sun wraps around me like a warm embrace, reminding me of summer days spent running around town, mostly with Cora. Ice cream sundaes, bags full of candy from the Sweet Shoppe, lazy days on the beach. Boy crazy, endless laughter, and the feeling that we had all the time in the world.

But things have changed since then. As they should. It's been eight years since I spent the summer here, not since the summer before I left for college.

My parents were still my parents, but when I was here, it was like all of that faded away. So many incredible memories were made here.

The faint sound of waves lapping at the shoreline down the street makes my chest ache in the best way. I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the sweet nostalgia of the summer I turned eighteen in Rosewood.

The wind whispers through my hair, tugging at the strands ever so gently. My nose itches, and I blindly reach up to swipe them away. A low groan rumbles underneath my ear, and my hand halts in the middle of the air. My eyes spring open in shock, as I realize that wasn't my sound machine set to the ocean setting, and I'm not in my bed.

I slowly turn my head, and my breath catches in my throat at what I see.

No, I'm not in a bed at all.

I'm at the beach. Sleeping on a man.

I blink a few times, but with each sweep of my lashes, his image becomes clearer and little snippets of last night sear themselves on the inside of my eyelids.

Dark, messy hair I tugged on when I kissed him.

Broad, tattooed shoulders I clutched as he laid me down on the blanket.

A strong, chiseled jawline I ran my fingers along while we talked until the early hours of the morning.

Everything about him oozed sex appeal, from the way his muscles rippled beneath his skin to the way his lips curved into a lazy smile when he caught me looking at him.

Even when he's sleeping, he's still so goddamn good-looking it should be a crime. I didn't know men could have this many muscles. I'm pretty sure I said something to that effect last night as I traced his abs with my fingers.

The sun is flirting with the horizon, and it casts the most ethereal glow over him. He's the kind of gorgeous that would make me do something stupid, like blow up my plans and stay another two weeks in Rosewood.

I can feel my cheeks heating up at the realization of what happened last night. It's not like me to be so impulsive, to let go of all my inhibitions and give in to my desires.

But I can't deny how good it felt. Not only all the amazing, toe-curling things we did together, but shedding the tight restraints of my parents' expectations and just living.

Plus, he really is hot as hell. Cora's going to lose her mind when I tell her I hooked up with a stranger last night. She's going to be so mad that she skipped the bonfire. I roll my lips inward to stifle my amusement. I can just picture the look on her face.

He stirs beneath me, and I freeze, trapped like a deer in headlights. My heart beats against my ribs, and for the first time, I realize that I'm wearing his oversized tee.

And that's it.

“Ready?” Cora's voice breaks the spell.

I open my eyes, my stomach fluttering a little like it always does whenever I think of that night spent with him.

“You okay, Eve?” she asks from next to me, her voice quiet in the early morning cadence of Rosewood.

“Yeah, just tired.” I feel like I barely slept last night, worry eating me from the inside out as I tossed and turned. Not even my current read, an epic fantasy romance with one girl and her many men could ease the burden.

But letting myself rememberthat nightin such vivid detail helps settle me a little bit. Most girls recall their first times with eye rolls and exasperation. But not me.

At the risk of sounding like some cliche Hallmark movie, it was . . . magical. I left for college the next day, but I found myself casually looking for him every time I came back to visit, not that I was here too often.

Birds sing to one another nearby, the unmistakable warble and coo of mourning doves. Soft wistfulness blankets my anxiety at the haunting melody.

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