“It’s okay, Marcus. I know exactly what you mean. That’s why she deserves better than guys like us.”
Chapter 11
Liam
Late Saturday Afternoon
The boys finish cleaning up the beach like they’re racing the sun. Folding chairs hauled up the hill, cooler lids snapped shut, snack wrappers gathered in plastic bags. I supervise from the dock, tossing ropes into their bins and giving a few nods when they actually get something right the first time.
They’re good kids — loud, crude, half-feral, but good.
No more talk about Tessa. I guess they got the message. Eitherthat, or the sight of her SUV missing from the driveway told them it wasn’t worth pushing.
Still, I keep glancing toward the cabin.
It’s stupid, really. She doesn’t owe me anything. She probably ran to town. Could be she needed something at the hardware store, groceries, whatever else she’s low on. But I notice it. The space where her car was.
I tell myself it’s not concern. It’s not possessiveness. Hell, it’s not anything.
But when I finish hosing down the grill area and walk up to the cabin for a quick shower, I find myself lingering by the window instead. Staring at an empty driveway like some watchdog left out in the rain.
Where’d she go? Is she okay? How long has she been gone?
I rub the back of my neck. I’m not her damn father. I’m not her brother. And yet here I am, keeping tabs on her like I’ve got some kind of claim.
Everything I warned the boys about today? Treating her like she’s under a microscope? Yeah. Guilty. Every damn word.
They might’ve said it out loud, but I’ve been thinking it. Watching her. Feeling things I’ve got no business feeling.
The shower's running hot by the time I strip down and step under the spray. The water hits my shoulders, washing away the sweat and sunscreen from the afternoon. I should be thinking about Monday’s practice, about which plays to run, about getting the boys ready for the season.
Instead, all I can think about is Tessa. The way she looked in those cut-offs today. The curve of her ass when she bent over to dip that brush in the paint can. How her tits strained against that bikini top, nipples pressing through the thin fabric whenever she stretched up high.
My hand wraps around my hardening cock before I can stop myself. This is exactly what I shouldn't be doing. But the hot water cascades down my back and all I can see is Tessa's smile when she waved at the boat. The way her hips swayed to that music. How she'd look if those shorts hit the floor of my bedroom.
I stroke myself slowly, slick soap and water streaming between my fingers. In my mind, she's here with me. Those green eyes looking up at me with want instead of friendly conversation. Her hands on my chest, my shoulders, anywhere she wants to touch.
I imagine her pressed against the shower wall, water running down her curves, those perfect tits in my hands. She'd gasp my name, arch into me, let me taste every inch of her skin. I'd lift her up, feel those legs wrap around my waist, and finally bury myself deep inside her.
My grip tightens as I picture how she'd move against me. The sounds she'd make. Whether she'd be shy at first or bold, demanding what she wants. I bet she'd surprise me. All that brave strength sheshowed cleaning out the cabin would translate to something fierce and hungry in bed. She'd take what she needed, give as good as she got.
Fuck. My breathing turns ragged as I pump harder, imagining her nails digging into my shoulders, her voice breathy and desperate as I thrust into her. She'd be tight, so goddamn tight, wrapping around me like she was made for it. Made for me.
I picture her coming apart in my arms, head thrown back, those sweet lips parted as she cries out. The way she'd clench around me, pulling me deeper, begging for more.
I stroke faster, water and soap making everything slick as I chase this fantasy. God, the things I'd do to her. How I'd lay her out on my bed afterward, taste every inch of her skin until she's writhing beneath my tongue. Make her come again and again until she's shaking, until I’m the only thing shewants more of.
The image of her face, flushed and desperate, sends me over the edge. I come hard against the shower wall, groaning her name as my release pulses through me.
I brace my hands on the tile wall, eyes shut, trying to catch my breath. The water’s still warm, but it’s cooling quickly. I should feel better … looser, clearer. Instead, all I feel is … off.
This wasn’t just release. It was need. And not the kind you burn off in a five-minute fantasy.
I rinse off quickly and towel down in silence, jaw tight. I’m not proud of what I just did. Not because I touched myself. Hell, that’s human. But because I wasn’t just imagining a body. I was imaginingher. And the more I try to tell myself it’s harmless, the more it feels like a lie.
Maybe I’m really a coward. If I want to be with Tessa, I need to find a way to let her know. If she doesn’t want that kind of relationship between us, I’m sure she’ll let me know. In the meantime, I need air.
I head outside with a bottle of water and sit on the edge of the porch, watching the sun dip just past the pines. I don’t know how long I sit there before I hear the crunch of tires on gravel.
