Page 69 of A Bittersweet Summer

“Help him not to flirt withyou,” I’d retorted, resulting in a gentle swat across the chest.

When I exit the bathrooms at the lake, the sun sparkles across the water. Teenagers run across the dock, diving off the edge until they disappear beneath the murky water.

I scan the beach, watching two kids as they pile sand higher and higher.

“It’s a volcano!” the boy shouts just before the little girl, no more than two, stumbles right over the top. “Eruption!” he yells through fits of giggles, and I grin.

When I finally spot Cass, her back is turned away from me, allowing me a full view of the green bikini she told me about.

She bends over, and I fight the way my blood wants to rush to my cock as she sprays sunscreen up her toned legs. The sheen only serves to make them look more enticing—like I want to feel them wrapped around my waist as I carry her off to the farmhouse.

When I finally reach her, she turns around. Her eyes rake down my chest, lower, until her gaze lands on my legs. She lifts her hand to her mouth, fighting back giggles.

I roll my tongue along my cheek, knowing exactly where this is going. “What?” I say, looking to the swings on the grass just beyond the beach.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, stepping closer and taking my hand. “Your legs are so…white.”

I step even closer, allowing our breaths to mingle. Her smile falls, but not fully. “I work on a farm year-round, Miss Summers. What did you expect?”

“I guess I didn’t think about it.”

I grin. “Mhm. Wait another month, and you’ll look just like me.”

Her lashes flirt with her cheeks when she blinks up at me. “You think?” she says before taking one finger and dragging it torturously slow down my abdomen. My stomach flexes at the touch. “Just like this?”

I give in, my gaze falling to the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips punctuated by two flimsy knots on either side.

A fucking string bikini.

“I sure hope not.”

Cass plants a kiss on my cheek before sprinting out into the water, laughing all the way to the edge.

When I reach her, my arms circle her waist, lifting her and spinning as the water splashes around us.

On this beach, it’s just us—it’s just her. It’s alwaysher.

“I could have been a professional diver in another life.”

Cass stands on top of the dock as I tread water. “You think?” I say, cocking a brow. Her skin glistens beneath the sinking sun.

The afternoon crept to evening, washing the lake in a golden glow.

“Absolutely not,” she says before sprinting full force.

The cannonball she does splashes water over my face. I push my hair back, watching as she surfaces, her smile highlighted by the water lapping near her chin like it wants to kiss her as badly as I do.

She lifts her chin. “What?”

We spent the afternoon eating soft pretzels from the snack bar, swimming the length of the lake, and sunning ourselves during the scheduled swim breaks while we talked about everything under the sun.

“I want to kiss you,” I admit, inching closer.

Cass swims backward toward the now-empty dock. Tucked behind it, we are cut off from the rest of the beach.

I follow her in the water until the dock is at her back. I grip the edge, caging her in as one arm wraps around her waist, hauling her to me.

“Then do it,” she challenges, and I give in.