“You’re probably right about that. I still feel bad.”
He swallows, and I hate myself for it, but I watch the thick knot in his throat bob as he does. His hand grips the armrest on my little chair, his pinky grazing my thigh. “Do you feel bad because you’re a good girl?”
Good girl. I’ve read it before. Heard it in movies, too. I never understood it, the allure, the appeal, the arousal. But Reed asking me if I’m a good girl changes everything.
I nod. “I am.”
His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip. “How good?”
Everyone chats around the fire, and when I glance around, I see none of them are even looking at us. I face Reed, my heart palpitating at the way he intensely focuses on me.
“Good,” I breathe. “Honor classes. Straight A’s.”
He reaches past my chair to the end of my gingham dress, tracing the hemline with his thumb and forefinger. “How else are you good?”
My face tingles and I’m more aware of my cleavage than ever before. I want Reed to look. I want him to look at my chest and desire me, and I want his hand to slip under my dress and touch me.
But we’re with friends. None of that will happen here. I pluck my beer from the sand and take a drink. He watches me, and I’m pretty sure he makes a noise, one that stays in his chest but a deep rumble of desire nonetheless.
“This is my first time drinking,” I admit. “Like, really drinking more than a sip or champagne with my dad.”
“Hmm,” he acknowledges my response with a rumble, finishing his own beer. “How else?”
I chew the inside of my cheek, my clit throbbing with need. I’msogoing to rub one out in Maribel’s guest room tonight. God, I am so horny it’s almost pathetic.
“I don’t know… I guess, that’s all.” I finish my beer. “I worked at a non-profit, you know, for my college applications.”
Suddenly Reed rises, outstretching his hand to me. “Do you want to take a walk on the beach, and go see the alcove?” He outstretches his arm, pointing off into the distance where a cluster of rocks lead to a small alcove off the shore. “It’s a bad girl thing to do, since the alcove is roped off.”
He looks at the group, and Brooke catches my eyes. She winks, returning her focus to Fabian and Alex. Sliding my hand in Reed’s, we drift away from the bonfire, toward the edge of the water, letting the warm ocean kiss our feet aswe walk.
“We’re holding hands,” I say, feeling stupid the moment I say it.
“Do good girls not hold hands?” he asks, smiling down at me, the edge of his glasses poking up from his shirt.
“I never have but I like it.”
He stops us in the sand, the ocean pooling around our ankles as the tide rolls in. “Never held hands?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Never had a boyfriend.”
The beers burn in my veins, unlocking my reservations, setting free my fears. With the sound of laughter far off, I lift our joined hands and place his palm over my breast, my chest heaving. “Never been touched at all.”
He’s a stranger.
I have to go home soon.
Sex on the beach is probably painful.
We could get caught.
This is a public beach.
This is a bad idea.
Those are all the things that float through my mind right before I say, “touch me. And please, let me touch you.”
Chapter Five
