Summer Sins Read online

  "What's the matter? Not used to a woman coming to her senses once she realizes you could be the biggest mistake of her life?"

  His gaze dropped to my mouth. His eyes sizzled with memories. "See, I wanna dislike you, sugar. But you intrigue me."

  "I'm real flattered. Let's chalk it up to the full moon. I was tipsy, you were a bit aggressive, and things got out of hand. Won't happen again."

  "But I want it to."

  "Well, I don't."

  He reached out and trailed a finger down my arm. Goosebumps prickled my skin. My heart raced like mad. "You don't kiss like that and walk away. We have a connection. Now, I'm not into poetry and shit, but when we get in the same vicinity, there are fireworks. Fucking you like I'm dying to do is inevitable."

  My legs felt weak. Thank God I was sitting. Did men really talk like this? And why, oh, why was it such a turn-on? It was so filthy and...uncivilized. "Good thing Fourth of July is coming up. Cause that's the only fireworks you're gonna get."

  "I love a good challenge, sugar. The great thing about this? We both win when you lose."

  I opened my mouth to say something cruel and clever, but he pushed back his chair, drained his espresso, then sauntered off. "See ya."

  When I recovered enough, I cursed him viciously.

  And not only because he'd stuck me with the bill.

  Asshole.

  Chapter Six

  HOLDEN

  SHE WAS HERE.

  I wanted to crow with satisfaction, but I kept cool. There were a handful of great bars the summer crowd hit regularly, and the odds of her coming out to party with her friends was high. High enough that I decided to hang tight at the Surf Bar and hope she drifted in.

  Score.

  She had her girls in tow, and I hung back, watching while they settled in and ordered a round of drinks. I knew she'd be pissed that I stuck her with the bill for my espresso, but it was too perfect. I was beginning to realize I looked forward to our banter just as I did to staring at her hot body.

  Halfway through their drinks, the blonde and the redhead went into the back room, leaving Storme alone on her stool. She scrolled through her phone, sipped her drink, and looked generally at ease in the noisy place. She was dressed for sin in a short black skirt and white lace tank that showed off her gorgeous tan. The back was criss-crossed and tied by three laces my fingers itched to undo. I watched a guy approach with a cocky attitude, then return with his tail tucked between his legs after a strikeout.

  I loved dating cliches. They were all so ridiculous.

  Still, I smiled at the adept way she handled herself. After two more bombed, I scooped my beer up, told Brian I was heading out, then approached.

  Her head was lowered, attention on her phone. Her voice came out with a commanding heat that was sexy as hell. "I appreciate the attention, but I'm not interested right now. Just keep on walking. Thanks, though."

  "Wanna buy me a drink?"

  She jerked. Stared at me with a mixture of temper, attitude, and lust. It was the lust that kept my ass there. She seemed to struggle to keep her control. Good. That was how I wanted her--off-balance. "Didn't I do that already today?" she drawled.

  "Oh, yeah, you did. Thanks."

  "Why are you still bothering me?"

  I shrugged and rested my hands on the small, high table. She stiffened as if afraid I would touch her. "Got no one else I'm interested in bothering. You're the lucky woman of the night."

  She let out an annoyed huff and stared at me. "Look, I appreciate your cute little quips and your badass attitude. There's a bar full of women I bet you could have in your bed within the hour. Or on your bike. Go to it. Enjoy. Bye-bye."

  I laughed. Damn, she was funny. When the hell had I last had to chase down a girl I was interested in? "Ever ride one?"

  She blinked. "I hope you mean the bike."

  "Mind in the gutter much?"

  She rolled her eyes. "No, I've never ridden a motorcycle. They're dangerous."

  "That's why they're fun. You could roll in a convertible, too. That has an air of danger. Or did you buy it just because it screamed rich girl?"

  "Who are you to judge me?" she challenged. "You know nothing about me."

  "You're right. I'm trying to find out, and you're fighting me."

  "You just want to get laid."

  "After I get to know you."

  She sputtered out a laugh. Closed her eyes in frustration, but when she opened them up, those gorgeous, dark eyes were full of humor. I liked a girl who liked to laugh. Hated the types who were so damn serious you couldn't have a chill conversation without the drama. Oh, I guaranteed Storme was dramatic, but at least she proved she could joke with the best of them. "What do you want to know?" she asked.

  I could tell she didn't take me seriously, so I pondered my first question. "How long have you been wanting to be a fashion designer?"

  Yeah, that got her. Her eyes widened, and it took her a few moments to recover. "Umm, I've been drawing since I was young. I love the idea of taking a piece of fabric and transforming it into something specific. Clothes really are an extension of someone's personality. I've seen people build up their confidence when they wear something they feel good in, and the opposite when they pick the wrong thing. I also hate how expensive some of the designer clothes are, and wish there'd be more high-quality choices for the average buyer."

  She stopped short. Her cheeks reddened, and I wanted to haul her against my chest and kiss her until she didn't think about anything anymore. Definitely an answer I wasn't expecting. She actually had a goal. Who would've thought?

  "Are you going to study design, then?"

  Storme stiffened. "No. I've got other responsibilities right now. What about you? Wait, let me guess. You're a writer or a poet. You need artistic freedom and crave to travel the world with a backpack and a map of hostels."

  I took a sip of my beer. "I hate hostels. I prefer four-star hotels." It was safer for her to believe I was a beach bum with no prospects. I only wanted a summer fling, and the less truth, the better. I ignored the flare of guilt from being such an asshole, but it wasn't enough to stop me. I may want to sleep with her, but I didn't know if she'd become clingy or crazy if she thought a relationship was possible.

  "How you gonna pay for those hotels?"

  I shrugged. "I'm a friendly guy. I also believe in that fate/luck thing. Go forth and seek, and you shall find."

  A laugh escaped her rosy lips. Some grindy music beat from the speakers. The smell of beer and wine filled the air. People gyrated to hip-hop, hooked up, broke up, drank, laughed, flirted, and nothing mattered except the sting of her inky eyes and how I was dying to kiss her. The words shot out before I had time to stop them.

  "Come ride with me."

  She ducked her head, but her hand trembled around the stem of her wine glass. "No. I can't."

  "You won't. Why? I promise not to touch you. I just want to ride with you on the back of my bike, with the hot wind at our back and the smell of the ocean wrapped around us."

  Her voice trembled like her hands. "See. You are a poet. Or writer. Normal men don't talk like that. How old are you?"

  "Twenty-four. You?"

  "Twenty-two."

  This time, she didn't break her gaze. We stared at each other, lost in the crackling energy and heat seething between us. "Come ride with me," I said again. I itched to scoop up that glorious dark hair and run my fingers through the strands. I imagined it blowing free, and my dick almost burst through my shorts.

  "I--"

  "Storme!" She jumped at the sound of her name cutting above the noise at the bar. Her friend--the blonde--stood in the back, waving furiously. "Get over here!"

  She slipped off her chair and took a big step away from me. "Gotta go. See ya."

  I watched her scramble across the room, linking her arm through the blonde's and disappearing where the pool tables were. So fucking close. But I couldn't keep stalking her. She needed a little leeway, a little time to think
about me, before I approached again.

  Next time, I wouldn't give her room to say no.

  I lifted my beer and went to go wait by my friends.

  Chapter Seven

  STORME

  I CHECKED MY WATCH and finally decided to call a cab. Leigh had gone home early, taking the car. Then Kelsey had hooked up with Sean. I wasn't tired, so I decided to hang by the tiki bar, where I met a couple of casual friends and shared another drink. I placed the call and began to walk down the long, winding road to wait for my ride, enjoying the sluggish heat buzzing in my blood.

  I should have kept walking.

  I heard the roar of the bike in the air long before he reached me. The wind whipped the growl of the engine to my ears, and I felt like I almost caught his scent with it. Earthy. Spicy. Mixed with the salty sting of the ocean, it was as if the elemental, primitive female in me unfurled and exploded.

  All those walls and logical discussions and that blistering guilt buckled under the sheer need to be in his presence. Just for a little while.

  Just for one ride.

  I stepped to the side and he pulled up beside me, an image of black leather and badass biker. The same sci-fi helmet that hid most of his face, but this time the visor was flipped up, so I looked directly into his eyes.

  Seething. Demanding. Commanding.

  My knees weakened, and I was gone in a matter of moments.

  "Get on."

  He didn't question. Neither did I. Crossing my purse over my chest, I slid onto the bike, trying to tug down my ridiculously short skirt so I didn't flash the world my black lace panties. He reached around me, practically burning me with the casual slide of his arms brushing my hip, then grabbed another helmet from the back storage. I put it on, adjusting it over my head, and he helped me buckle it under my chin. His fingers lingered near my mouth, and my lower lip tingled, begging for his touch, but then he just pulled away and turned his back on me.

  He revved the engine and I wrapped my arms tight around his waist, holding on tight. With crazy speed, we roared down side roads and headed to the main highway. The engine made a throaty moan, and suddenly we were whipping down the road under a sky full of stars and nothing but freedom on the path ahead.

  The wind rushed between my legs and teased a throbbing need that cried for relief. I leaned my head against his shoulder and let the ride take me away, the speed and blur of the world around me loosening a tightness deep inside my chest I never knew I had. I just knew in that moment I could ride forever with him, the two of us on his bike, chasing the light of the moon.

  I have no idea how long we rode. It seemed like hours, but when he finally pulled off to a beaten side road past the beach dunes, it was too soon to end. Suddenly, the silence between us vibrated as loud as the engine of the bike had. He took off his helmet and climbed off the bike.

  My legs were shaking badly, and my arms were a bit cramped from squeezing him so tight. His gaze flicked down as he watched my skirt slide up indecently, flashing my inner thighs for his view in the shadows. I fought a blush, wondering what he'd think if he knew how wet with arousal my panties were. And he hadn't even made a move yet. I began to slide down, but he stopped me right before my toes hit the gritty street.

  "No. I want you to stay on the bike." His voice was dark and velvety. I felt as if it stroked me and teased me to the brink of orgasm. My body responded to the command and I shuddered, but I obeyed and remained perched on the bike, my skirt hiked up high on my thighs, my nipples tight and begging for relief from his mouth.

  "I don't know what I'm doing," I whispered. My thoughts whirled, and I half-closed my eyes, wondering if I could run away, very, very fast, and maybe he wouldn't catch me, and I'd be safe and not betray Phillip.

  "You're going to let me touch you," he said. His black T-shirt molded to his chest, and his jeans hung low on his hips. He closed the distance between us with a slow, deliberate pace that showed me he was taking control, and would catch me if I tried to run. I tipped my head back to look at him. Those piercing emerald eyes drilled into mine with a foggy lust and clear intent that scared the crap out of me, but it was too late. My body sighed and softened, surrendering completely to any bad thing he wanted to do to me.

  I already knew it was too late, and I didn't care.

  His lips hovered an inch from mine. I moaned, my lips parting, and he fisted my hair at the nape of my neck to tug my head back further. My throat was vulnerable, and my heart pounded frantically. I felt caught in a trap I didn't know if I wanted to escape.

  "I want to make you come," he said.

  A sob fell from my lips. The agony of waiting and betrayal was too much to bear. "I don't know if I can do this," I said brokenly.

  "You don't have a choice," he said softly.

  Then his mouth took mine.

  Oh, I was drowning from heat and softness, his tongue slipping between my lips to drink me in like his thirst would never be quenched. He moved over me, stepping between my spread legs, kissing me deep and hard and thoroughly while his hands kept my head still, forcing me to surrender completely.

  I reached up and twisted my arms around his neck. My hips arched of their own accord, my breasts tight and tingly until I wondered if I'd cry out at just the brush of his fingers over my nipples. As if he sensed my thoughts, one large hand slid under my tank, under my bra, and covered my breast, his thumb tweaking my nipple with slow, teasing motions until I exploded beneath him.

  "So sweet," he groaned, finally breaking the kiss. I gasped for air, shaking like I was caught in a fever. I had never experienced such raw lust, such wicked need for a man to take me and fuck me and use me until I had nothing left to give. The violence scared the hell out of me, but I still didn't run, just clung to him tighter. "I want to devour you in one gulp, but I don't want to rush. I have to feel your sweet pussy. Let me in, sugar."

  I fought myself in that moment. My mind clung to a last, faint denial not to betray the man I'd promised myself to, but it was too late. His heat and his words melted my resistance, turning my body to a demanding, screaming bitch that needed his touch more than my next breath. More than my honor or sanity.

  What if this was my last chance to experience raw, crazy, hot passion?

  His knee nudged my thighs farther apart. A rush of liquid warmth trickled from my core, and I was desperate to have his fingers on my clit, between my legs. I wanted it so bad, all I could do was cling and moan while he kept kissing me and murmuring deliciously naughty words as his fingers hooked under the band of my panties then slid inside.

  "Ah, Holden! God!"

  "Fuck, you're dripping wet for me. Fucking perfect." He trailed kisses down my neck and bit the line where my neck met my shoulder, throwing me into a fit of tiny convulsions. My body was firing on all circuits, completely out of my control, especially when he added another finger, curling and pumping inside of me with slow, steady strokes. I panted and sunk my teeth into his shoulder. He jerked and cursed, quickly lifting my left leg higher and hooking it around his hip so he had better access.

  I should've run. I should've pushed him off. I should've told him I was engaged and stupid and out of my mind. But my hips rolled, and his thumb kept brushing my clit, revolving in circles, pressing, and I was right on the edge, my entire body tightening and twisting in an effort for that elusive orgasm I craved more than breath.

  "Open your eyes," he commanded. I fought the drugged feeling and lifted my lids. His eyes seethed with a raw violence that should've scared me, but instead it made me even wetter. "I want to see your face." He began rubbing my clit faster, harder, his fingers thrusting with no hint of gentleness. I knew in that moment if he had been tender, I would've stopped him. If he'd whispered sweet words I couldn't have taken it. But this primitive, volatile roughness allowed me to revel in losing myself, along with my guilt, in the quest for that mighty orgasm.

  He pulled my hair and lightly pinched my clit at the same time.

  I came.

  He
swallowed my screams with his lips, his tongue marking me, claiming me, drinking me in whole. The orgasm went on and on, washing over me and releasing me into a fit of shakes, and he milked every last ounce from my body, refusing to let me rest until I'd given him everything.

  His mouth gentled. Nibbled at my swollen lips. I clung to him, weak, lost, not knowing what I was going to do but knowing I couldn't leave him yet. He gathered me close against his chest, and I breathed in the scent of clean cotton from his shirt and the hint of spicy musk from his cologne. He held me for a long time, not speaking, until I felt strong enough to stand on my own.

  He lifted me from the bike where my ass stuck to the seat, and I tugged down my skirt and straightened my top. I waited for mocking amusement, but he gazed at me with a serious intensity that lacked any type of humor. I swallowed and cleared my throat. "Guess you think I'm pretty easy," I finally said.

  His lip twitched once. "Not at all. Why is it wrong to want each other? I enjoyed that just as much as you. As a matter of fact, I want more. Much more."

  "What? A quick payback for you to even the terms?"

  I regretted the moment those nasty words left my mouth, but I was desperate for footing. He shrugged and flicked his gaze away. "No. A summer fling. Time for us to enjoy and get each other out of our systems. Afterward, you return to your real life, and I'm off to have more adventures."

  I curled my fingers into fists, and the sapphire on my left hand cut into my palm. A summer fling. I wanted to mock him and throw his offer back in his face, but I stood in front of him and almost wept at my weakness. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to lie in bed with this man and allow him to wrack my body with pleasure and orgasms, use me until I was raw and empty and could crawl back to Phillip. What was wrong with me? I wasn't a cheater. Never once had I craved anyone else, yet an unemployed beach bum, probably a manwhore with an attitude, had me twisted in knots.

  Oh, how I wanted to say yes.

  One summer. No one would have to know. It would be just about sex, not love. My terms. Then I could go back to my real life with Phillip, and my future, cleanly mapped out.

  But I couldn't bring myself to do it. And I also knew in that moment I had to tell Holden the truth.