Page 45 of A Bittersweet Summer

“Nah,” I say, waving her off. When I smile this time, it’s with all my teeth. “Your laugh is nowhere near as scary as Liz’s farts. That horse scares herself out of her sleep.”

We laugh again, and I realize how much I’m enjoying spending time with her. This isn’t work, and it’sdangerous. The moreI see all the ways we get along away from the chores and obligations, the more Iwant.

I want Cass, and I’m trying so hard to hold on to the line I originally drew in the sand, but I find I’m dancing over top of it. I can’t seem to gauge how far is too far.

Especially not when everything in me screamsnot far enough.

Chandler spots us and waves Cassidy and me over to the area by the fire. I spot her look of nervousness and feel my hackles rise.

“We don’t have to go over there,” I say, and I mean it. Whatever she wants to do—however she wants to handle the situation—I’ll fully support it.

“I think we can,” she says. “Here.”

Cass reaches for my hand, and I hate the way I relish the feel of her skin on mine. I let her lead me over to the fire until we join the group chatting amidst the orange glow.

“Cassidy,” Chad says, “You remember Derek, don’t you? What a small world we live in.”

She nods to the man sitting by the fire with a beer in his grip. There’s a similarity to the way he carries himself—like Chad had been cloned, but merely dyed his hair darker and grown a larger nose.

“Not a small world we live in,” she says, casting me a knowing look. “Just Ohio.”

I fold myself into the singular chair left over, bracketing her hips where she stands before me. When my fingers touch her skin, cursed by the cropped t-shirt she wears, all I can feel is warmth threatening to swallow me whole. A lightning storm is forming in my chest, trapped until the building pressure is almost too much to bear.

I encourage her to sit, and Cassidy moves fluidly until her ass is planted firmly on my lap.

“This okay?” I whisper, my mouth so close to her ear, I can imagine myself leaning in more—tugging and nipping until she’s putty.

When she shifts further back, the blood rushes south.

“Perfect,” she whispers, the word coming out on a breath. “We should be convincing,” she says as the conversation picks up around us.

She sits off to one side, more on my thigh. Which is a good thing, because I’m so fucking hard and nothing has even happened.

This is far beyondnot good. I’m relying on the cover of darkness to hide my erection, afraid of every flicker from the bonfire.

“Convincing?” I question.

“I don’t know,” Cass says, her voice still low. “Touch me.”

Goddamnit.

My hand moves on its own, gathering the strands of her hair as I slide my fingertips over her, brushing her hair to the side until all I can see is the smooth column of her neck.

I might as well be dancing on the fire in front of us. For Cassidy, this is pretend. We are making her ex jealous, I suppose. But the way my body lights up at the contact—the way her words had me bending to her will—I’m not sure any of this is pretending. Not on my end.

I lean in closer, lips brushing the skin there. “Like this?”

She doesn’t hide her shuddering breath, and fuck if it doesn’t do something to me. “Perfect.”

“How have you been, Cassidy?” Derek asks, his eyes like a hawk zeroing in on prey.

One hand tightens on Cass’s hip and squeezes in reassurance. “Great!” she says, shifting where she’s perched on my lap. “Recently engaged and loving it.”

“I see,” he responds.

I give another gentle squeeze, and Cass must take that as an invitation to settle in even further. She shifts more to the center, and when her ass slides over me, she freezes.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.