Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
He drops his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“I—” I swallow, trying to clean up the tears with my palm. “Where?”
He grins, wolfish, alive again—just the way he can do so well. Turn everything off like it’s a switch. “You trust me?”
I shake my head. “Not even a little.”
“Good.” He takes a step back and motions to his bike. “Let’s go to the beach.”
“You’re crazy, have you seen the weather?”
He straddles the Harley, rain splaying off the chrome, and pats the seat. “Sometimes that’s the only thing that gets us through.”
The helmet waits for me, cracked and covered in old band stickers. I don’t want to, but I put it on anyway, because even now, I’d follow Travis Phoenix straight into hell.
WE TAKE THE COASTLINE with the wind flaying my thighs and Travis’s ice-cold hand forming a cage around mine at every red light. The sky is that sucked-dry gray that means the rain has no plans of stopping. Goosebumps ridge every inch of me, but it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing to do but hold on and let the world blur. I don’t ask where we’re headed. I don’t even try. Let him drive. Let him steer. I had forgotten this part, the wild blind trust with no brakes.
He stops at the beach.
Of course he does.
Our place. It has always been our place.
The sand is a slush when we roll up, the waves crazed and roiling in the black moonless dark. I hop off first, tossing my shoes. The rain is all over everything now, blurring the sea, the parking lot, the last memory I had of Travis before he left, shirtless and feral, grinning as he rolled a joint and brought it to my lips, letting me inhale.
God.
He had me in a chokehold.
He slings the helmet off and takes my hand. “Ever come down here in the rain?”
“I’m not a masochist,” I mutter.
“Come on, Mischief.” Like I have a choice.
He sits on the sand, legs kicked out, eyes locked on the horizon. I stand for a second, not sure if I am making a huge mistake, then fold next to him. Every inch of me is soaked. My teeth chatter, just a little. And yet, it’s insanely calming, in a strange kind of way.
We sit, drenched, the rain hammering over us. I wonder what we are now, what he wants, why it’s so easy to slide back into this gravity. The air is salty and it tastes like another life. God, I should have just stayed home, and yet I knew I’d never be able to say no.
Not to him.
He turns, voice low. “Did you think about it?”
“About what?”
His jaw ticks. “That kiss. On stage.” He says it like it’s the only thing in the world that matters.
I say nothing for a minute, watching the sand shift under the assault of the rain. Then, “Of course I do, Travis.” My voice is barely there. “You’re the only person I ever think about.”
“I know you don’t believe me,” he murmurs, “but I have dreamt of that moment for a long time.”
I hold my breath, my body buzzing with so much I don’t understand.
He is so close.
As he turns toward me, I can’t stop him, even if I wanted to. He smells like rain and cigarettes and every bad decision I ever wanted to make. He nudges my chin up with his thumb and before I can remember why I’m angry, his lips crush mine. No mercy, no slow burn—just the kind of greedy, desperate, hungry that made me fall in love with him in the first place.
My back slams to the ground, cold water flooding my dress, sand scraping my scalp. I don’t care. It feels right. He’s kissing me like he can’t stop, like he’ll die if he has to, like he’s punishing me for every minute we lost. I yank his hair and he pins my wrists, holding them flat above my head until I buck my hips up, needing him to hurt a little too.
The rain is relentless, soaking us through. Every inch of me sparks and aches and I don’t know if I want to cry or scream. I gasp his name and he groans, the sound vibrating down my throat. Then his hands slide under my dress, rough and freezing. He palms my breasts, his fingers soft, yet hungry, and the sensation is so sharp it makes me whimper.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he mutters. His mouth finds my neck, jawline, ear. He bites, hard, right at the base of my throat. I clench my thighs, desperately. I want him to keep going. I want him to never stop.
I shove his hand down, guiding him, showing him exactly what I want. He’s inside my panties in seconds, fingers cold but his touch setting me on fire. He curses softly, like he can’t believe I’m real. I rock against his hand, desperate, shameless, and when he slides a finger inside me I nearly black out. I claw at his back, pull him down to kiss me, to swallow the sound. He pumps in time with the crashing waves, relentless, driving, and I’m so close, so close—