“What’s that?”
He mimes sweeping. “I just get out my broom and sweep the memory into a corner and pretend it never happened.”
“Really?”
“Men are simple, right?”
“I don’t know. I think you’re complicated.”
“Trust me. I’m not. I’m pretty straightforward.”
“So, if I flash my boobs, are boobs all you’re going to think about?” I ask, challenging him.
“I’m sorry. What did you say? I stopped thinking.” He lets his gaze drift playfully down to my chest. “Nice dress.”
“But see, I don’t believe that. You pretend you are shallow, but deep down you think about things like friendship,” I say, as he looks me in the eyes again. “You think about life and death and your parents, and you think about your clients and fighting for them and doing the best you can.”
He looks at me, quiet and studying. “True. Yet sometimes I’m still playing the same loop. Food. Sex. Money.” He takes a beat. “Sex.”
And I might be playing that last one on a loop too. But I’m still trying to make a point, one related to sex, and to all the other things I like about him. “I don’t think that’s all you care about. You care about security. Reliability. Dependability. If you didn’t, we’d be sleeping together again.”
He stares hard at me, his jaw ticking. “Is that why we’re not sleeping together?”
I stare back, feeling the mood shift. My skin is hot, my breath comes fast, and the sun beats down. “Isn’t it?”
“At the moment, I’m honestly not sure.”
Heat roars in my body. “I’m not either. Going back to how we were sounds good in theory . . .”
“But theories can be wrong,” he says, his eyes dark, glimmering with lust.
But I don’t think it’s only lust I see. I think there’s so much more.
No, I know it.
My tingling chest is the proof.
My aching heart is the verification.
And my wild need is the driver.
Of me.
Because here on this sunny day, in this quiet nook of my favorite place on earth, I do maybe the craziest, most daring thing of all.
I shift out of my seat, climb onto his lap, and straddle him. Then I kiss the breath out of my best friend in a paddleboat.
32
Oliver
I’m a pretty open-minded guy.
I’ll try nearly any position. I’ll break out toys, props, and loads of dirty talk.
I’ll give the woman what she wants.
And if the woman wants public sex, sure, that can be arranged, short of an arrestable offense.
I just never put a paddleboat on the list of places I’d want to try.
But then, I never expected Summer to initiate paddleboat sex.
Here she is with her knees spread and her dress riding up, grinding against me.
When in Rome . . .
I cup her face, drag her close, and kiss her.
Without any cameras, without any agenda, without anything to prove.
There’s no reason but desire, and we kiss hard and hungrily in the lake at Central Park, and it feels like where we’re supposed to be.
I trace her lips, parting them with my tongue then stroking inside her mouth. I tug her closer, kiss her harder, our lips marauders. We plunder and suck, tongues tangling, bodies pressing.
She grinds against me, pressing on my cock, like iron in my jeans. And she’s relentless, a woman after her own pleasure, like she was the other night.
And the source of it is me.
It’s a thrilling and addictive feeling, knowing I’m the one she’s chasing like this.
That’s how we kiss.
Like we can’t get enough of each other. Can’t get enough lips, tongue, skin. My fingers curl around her skull, gripping her tight, slamming her against me.
Her hands skate into my hair, her fingers roping through the strands as she brings me closer. She’s panting, moaning, and nothing on earth is sexier than this woman revealing her desires to me.
For me.
And with me. I slide my hands down her back, along the crazy sequined dress and down to her ass, cupping her cheeks.
A groan rips from my throat as I squeeze her tight, firm ass. Yes, she was naked on me the other night, and yes, she was naked in bed, but it still feels like the first time.
Like I’m just discovering all her curves, all the softness of her body.
My hands slide lower, reaching the edge of her short dress. She feels too good. I break the kiss, panting. “So glad you got this dress.”
“Me too.” She breathes out hard, then lifts up and grinds back down on me, sliding against my cock, humping me.
Lust sizzles down my spine, radiating out through my whole body as she stares wickedly at me, a wanton, gorgeous woman eager for pleasure.
“I want you again,” she whispers, her voice all smoky and sexy.
It’s the hottest sound I’ve ever heard, and I can still barely believe it’s coming from her.
From my friend, who’s shown me so many sides of herself over the years—except this one.
