Page 17 of Fall Over You

Pair that with the pink crop top that shows off her toned stomach and I'm ready to see if she's got anything on under those shorts.

"What are you doing out in September with no pants on?" I ask.

"I have on pants," she says, popping her ever-present bubble gum. "They're called shorts. I believe the term is short for 'short pants.'"

My eyes travel up and down those muscled legs, trying not to let the sight of them affect me. "They're briefs with a zipper," I retort. "On a good day."

Becca touches her hands to the front of her shorts. "Aw, are they having a bad day?" She slinks my way. "Or are you, Tyler?"

She comes to stand in front of me and taps my chin with the tip of her finger. The bubble gum doesn’t cover the trace of booze on her breath, but wild horses couldn’t stop me from gazing at her glossed-up lips.

To be clear, I don’t want to look. By day, I do everything in my power not to look. But now it’s late and I’m tired and I can’t stop.

Becca Martin is a stunner.

"What are you doing here?" comes out, but what I really want to ask is why she's come to torture me. I don’t want Becca. Becca is a trainwreck in denim and flannel, everything I hate about this town, about the life I used to lead. I should know better. She smells like the bar, Marlboros, and bad decisions, but when she trains those bright blue eyes on me, my throat tightens.

I never admitted it to CJ, but I always thought Becca was pretty. And she's prettiest of all when she's being bad.

I don't miss much of anything about my party boy days, but not a day goes by that I don't think of some of the positions I've seen the woman in front of me tangled up in. Once the substances started to kick in, the clothes would start coming off, and Becca never turned down a good time. I’ve seen that body, or an unhealthier version of it, bent every which way. Spit roasted. Getting drilled from the back while she buried her face in some woman's pussy. Letting multiple guys . . . anyway.

I was one of the few who never took a turn with Becca. It felt wrong. She was Dusty’s little sister, and he worried about her falling in with the wrong sorts of people.

Little did he know that inside my head, I was absolutely the wrong sort of person. And the night I first got with CJ, it almost happened with Becca instead. It was just before that time of night when things would get wild, and Becca and I somehow ended up alone talking in a corner. We shared a blunt, and without trying, we got closer and closer together. Eventually, she was fully leaning into me, her head on my chest and my arm wrapped around her back. We smiled at each other for so long we started laughing, and it was probably just my own wishful thinking, but we had something.

“Should we go?” she’d asked, gesturing toward the tiny cabin where the mayhem usually took off.

“It’s probably not a good idea,” I said.

She’d shrugged. “What ever is?”

Her hand slipped into mine and I’ll never forget that feeling: doing something just with her. We got into the cabin, and CJ was already deep in it. Becca joined in quickly and beckoned me in, but as things evolved, I never got into it with Becca. The next thing I knew, CJ was in my lap and Becca was . . . doing Becca things.

So, I made the best of the situation and immersed myself in CJ, but my eyes always found their way to Becca. I’m not proud of that fact.

Dusty used to go to those parties with me, but once his sister started going, he stopped. Understandably so. I thought he’d try to talk me out of them too, but instead he told me to go and keep an eye on her.

Not a problem, because I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

I wonder if she still has those nipple piercings.

But I started dating CJ, and even though she jokingly tried to get me to share Becca a few times, I knew it was a trap. It was just a way for CJ to start a fight, and that was a trap I avoided at all costs.

The real truth is, I couldn’t have shared Becca. I wanted her all to myself.

And now she’s in front of me in my auto shop, late at night, without CJ in my life, and without Dusty here to stop me. I’ve gone years without action, and I’m only human.

I don’t see how anyone could resist her, but I’m going to do my best.

Becca leans a hip against her truck, and I admire the muscle running down the side of her thigh. "I saw your light on as I was leaving line dancing night at the Legion."

I stand straight and cross my arms, letting one foot cross over the other so if my dick decides to misbehave, I’ve got a shot at her not seeing it. It’s been doing that a lot lately, acting like I’m twelve and have infinite libido.

It always seems to happen when Becca’s around or on my mind. Which is also more often than normal.

“And that gave you the right to barge in on me?"

She smirks. "No. But I did it anyway." She puts her wrists together and gives me pathetic doe eyes. "You gonna lock me up for trespassing?"