Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 101(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 101(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
It always goes back to being just me.
Margot studies me with concern for a long time, and I can see that she’s reading in between the lines, hearing all the things I can’t say out loud. About loneliness and loss. “I know it won’t be perpetual summer. I can satisfy my need for fun and drama without a stage. Heck, I can do it with a box of cereal.” She strokes my face, her smile trembling a little. “Dean, you’ll be here with me. That’s all I need. And I’m sorry, but when I visit you, it won’t be quiet anymore.”
“Good.” I heave an unsteady exhale against her mouth. “I’ll welcome the noise if it’s coming from you.”
A flush of pleasure darkens her cheeks. “Maybe I could earn my Eagle Scout badges. I think I’d look really good in a sash.”
“You can borrow mine for now.”
Her eyes light slowly with a glow. “You trust me with them now?”
“Of course I do.”
She rubs her nose against mine, melting off the table and taking my sash of badges along with her. Curiously, I watch her disappear into the bathroom with them, wondering what the hell she’s doing, but ultimately not really caring. Not when I just got Margot Berry to agree to date me. That’s what just happened, right? I mean, she didn’t officially call me her boyfriend, but we have solid plans to see each other after camp.
Holy shit, how did I pull this off after upsetting her twice in twenty-four hours?
I give in to the urge to throw up my arms in victory, but quickly lower them when I hear the bathroom door creak open behind me.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you snuck my beer into the bathroom.”
“I needed some liquid courage.”
“For what—”
The words die in my throat when I turn around and find Margot wearing my sash.
Nothing but my sash and a pair of white panties.
Her hip is cocked, her right hand propped high on the wall. Hair out of its customary braid. My blood goes south faster than a twig snaps, swelling my dick up behind my zipper, the sudden pressure pushing a groan up into my throat.
“Bet you wish you’d shown me these sooner,” she murmurs.
Chapter Seven
Margot
When it comes to making a splashy entrance, I am usually quite confident in myself.
I’ve never made a mostly nude entrance before, however, so there was a tiny moment of self-doubt before emerging from the bathroom in nothing but a sash and panties. But the jingly nerves wash away like suds down a drain when I absorb Dean’s palpable reaction.
His jaw goes loose before hardening, his dark eyes tracking down to my single visible breast. Long fingers stretch at his sides, that strong throat working in a swallow. I watch the zipper of his jeans grow fuller, his chest starting a slow, dramatic heave, his usual steady breath turning shallow when his gaze reaches my panties. The white cotton mound between my legs that, if I’m being honest, has felt swollen and achy since I got into his truck. Or maybe since he kissed me this afternoon.
I want to put that problem in Dean’s hands.
I’ve only ever wanted him to touch my bare skin. No one else. There have been times where I’ve wanted to explore who I am sexually, to feel and experience what it’s like to give and take pleasure from another person. But I could never bring myself to give up on the dream that Dean would be my first. A dream I’ve harbored since I was a teenager. Maybe it’s silly to put so much importance on my virginity, but it’s not really about that. Waiting for him was pure stubbornness. Or maybe the belief that I would feel exactly like this when the moment arrived.
Confident.
Eager.
Emotional.
Hot.
No one else could make me safe enough to feel all those things at once.
“Margot,” he starts, and I’ve never heard his voice like this. So deep and throaty. “I’ve never seen anything more incredible in my life.” Slowly, he begins to walk in my direction, and the closer he gets, the more I clock his signs of hunger. The pull around his mouth, the sweat on his hairline, the jutting angle behind his fly. “Tell me now what you want tonight. Give me a boundary and spell it out clearly, because I can’t think of a single one right now. I just want to tear those little white panties off.”
Fizz rushes wildly in my veins, and there’s a glorious quickening of muscles and tendons below my waist. I’m wanted. I’m needed in the same way I need him. The best part of this moment is the lack of mystery. There was always that veil between us, me wondering how he felt. If he was attracted to me too. If he missed me, pined for me in the offseason, the way I did with him. One look at his acutely pained but worshipful expression, and I’ll never wonder again.