Sweet Summer Love (The Sweetest Thing, #3) Page 11

  On the other hand – fuck yeah. If she wants to do this, I’m all in. As long as she lets me touch her, too. It might just get us both what we want.

  “Only if I get to touch you. It’s only fair.”

  She blanches slightly, then thinks about it for less than a second before she agrees. “Okay.”

  I practically jump up, flinging stuff out of my backpack to find something to lay on the ground beneath us. This garners a low chuckle from Logan, but I don’t care. Because in a minute, I hope she won’t be laughing at all. I hope she’ll be so turned on, all I’ll hear is her soft moans of satisfaction.

  We end up laying out our towels side-by-side, making a small bed upon the moist, pine-scented earth. We lay on our sides facing one another and begin kissing. Slow pecks at first, which grow into longer, lingering kisses, as my hand finds the curve of her hip, playing a little back-and-forth against her skin.

  Making out with a beautiful girl has got to be the best thing in the whole fucking world. My lips have now migrated to her neck, which I suck on for a while. She seems to like it a lot, as her body squirms against me, her pelvis moving in a sexy rhythm. She allows my hand to burrow underneath her T-shirt, my fingers tracing a pattern of circles up, up, up until I reach the underside of her boob.

  My dick twitches in anticipation, knowing I’m going to touch what I’ve coveted for so long. They were the first thing I noticed about Logan after our nine-month absence between last summer and now. Her boobs had seriously grown another cup size since last summer and were practically busting out of her bra. I heard one of the other boys say something about the way they bounced when she ran and I was about to punch him in the face, but thought twice about it, since I didn’t want to get kicked out of camp – the only two weeks a year I spent with Logan.

  My hand leisurely roams the soft swell, as I test out the sounds she makes. I think it’s torture for both of us. I don’t want to move too fast, but so far things seem to be going really well. I like that Logan’s giving me the latitude I want and not playing games.

  My fingers inch their way up to the center of her bra and I find that there’s a snap there. I fumble a little and then get it to unlatch. Her chest rises and falls, faster now, as I slip the material away from her skin. My thumb skims across the hardened nipple and she flinches and gasps simultaneously. And it’s the sweetest, sexiest sound I’ve ever heard in all my life. She exhales a moan as she presses her breast into my palm.

  My cock grows harder and pushes into her side, as I begin dry-humping her leg. The magical thing is that she doesn’t seem to mind.

  “Mm.” She moans and I couldn’t agree more.

  Lifting the edge of her shirt, I expose the beauty of her creamy skin. The perfectly smooth and unblemished flesh normally hidden underneath her bikini top, and the area of sun-kissed tan that’s seen endless hours under the hot summer sun.

  My lips take possession of her nipple, sucking her taste into my mouth for the very first time. I feed on her like a starving man, sucking and nibbling at her perfectly taut breast. My lower half instinctively grinds against her looking for relief from the pain and pressure that’s been building to a boiling point.

  That pain is momentarily extinguished as Logan’s hand tentatively skims down between us to slide over the material of my shorts. I groan a desperate, dying noise and her hand pulls back like she’s been burned. We both stop and she recoils.

  Her expression is worry-laden. “Oh my God. Did I hurt you?”

  I laugh at her outrageous question and she blinks, embarrassed by my reaction.

  I grab hold of her hand and place it back on my dick, instructing her kinetically how to make it hurt so much more.

  “God, no. That feels good. Keep doing that, okay?”

  She nods, her tongue peeking out between her lips in concentration. I want to be selfish and just lay back on the mossy ground and let her have at me. But I also want to make her feel good, too.

  Returning my hand to the waistband of her jean shorts, I begin to unbutton her fly, but first get her approval through eye contact. She nods and we continue kissing, getting lost in each other and in the moment. My concentration flits back and forth between wanting to get my hand between her soft, wet center, and relishing in the feel of getting rubbed off by her.

  After struggling a little with the shorts, my hand finally lodges within the warmest, softest place in the universe. I’m momentarily dazed when I slide my middle finger through the downy softness of her curls and make my way down to every boy’s dreamland. Moving my finger through the valley between her folds, my thumb strokes over the small nub, which draws out a lusty moan from her, as well as a hip thrust. I notice out of the corner of my eye her head moving side to side and I grin.

  As I continue my quest to bring on the first orgasm I’ve ever given a girl, I feel Logan’s hand untying the draw string of my shorts and slipping her hand inside. I think I forget how to breathe. The minute I feel the skin-to-skin contact of Logan’s small hand against my hardened skin, I’m ready to explode.

  I want to tell her to grip it hard with all her might. To stroke and pull it like the way she pulled in that bass the other day at the river. But instead, I show her because the words are stuck in my throat.

  Placing my free hand on top of hers, I curl my fingers around her hand and together we begin to stroke me off, as I give her time to adjust to the motion. And then she takes over.

  We are out in the wide-open middle of the Canadian wilderness, doing the most natural thing in the world with one another. It’s incredible. What dreams are made of.

  “Am I doing this right?” she asks breathlessly.

  “You’re perfect. It’s so good.”

  As I continue to circle her clit, I decide to go big or go home. My fingers inch further south, opening her slick folds, and I penetrate her wet entrance. She bucks against me, stopping her own hand movements, as I enter her body for the first time. My finger plunges into her wet heat and she jolts against me.

  “Ah,” she whimpers, her hand stilling on top of my dick for a moment, before resuming her grip and pumping.

  I feel the explosion growing – it’s climbing higher and higher – until I know I’m seconds away from unloading all over her hand.

  “Lo,” I barely get out just as I begin to come all over my stomach, my head tipped back in glorious release.

  I think my climax may have brought out her own orgasm, because within seconds, her body tightens around my finger and she surrenders herself to me underneath the sun-drenched sky.

  There’s no way either of us will forget this day for as long as we live.

  Chapter 11

  Logan

  I wanted to forget about Carver Edwards. Forget he ever existed.

  I’d done it for years. Buried that part of my life and moved forward...for years.

  Now he’s somehow back in my life. Larger than life. Worming his way into my heart again just like he did when I was fifteen. Goddamn him.

  The thought both thrills and terrifies me. I’ve come such a long way since those endless summer nights. I’d pushed forward in my life and found a fulfilment living on my own. I don’t need anyone – or any man – to come along and mess with my head. Or my heart.

  The rest of our hike was a little awkward after the intimate moment we shared. And that kiss. Goddamn that kiss. It had me weak in the knees and wanting for more, even though I did my best to keep my distance the rest of the hike. And he seemed to understand that unspoken message. No more touching. No more making out.

  It makes me nuts. I don’t want to want him. But the moment he kissed me, it was like a switch was flipped and all my desire was turned back on. My feelings came tumbling out of the cave I’d kept them hidden in and had me practically floating back down the mountain trail.

  The moment his strong, capable hands touched my leg up on that mountain side and he began to massage my calf, I nearly broke down in surrender. The white flag was almost raised in comp
lete and utter defeat. I wouldn’t be surprised if my forehead wore a sign that said, TAKE ME, I’M YOURS. I was so ashamed of how easily I gave into his kiss. It brought back every powerful memory we’d ever made together.

  When we finally made it to the top of the trail – our destination stretched out before us in a glassy-mirror of icy beauty. The reflections across the water are so incredible it could send artists into a weeping mess.

  We stood on the wooden bridge crossing the narrowest part of the water for a good twenty-minutes, just staring in silence. If you believe in an all-powerful God who created all the heavens and the earth, you’d surely see it when surrounded by the magnificence of nature.

  I’d brought along some sandwiches and Powerbars to eat for lunch. It felt natural - even though my brain was going a hundred-miles-per-hour, overthinking every little interaction we’d had together. The sexual tension was so strong – so intense - it nearly sent me careening off the bridge overlooking the lake. But Carver seemed unaffected.

  It’s now late in the day and we’ve pulled up outside of Joel’s house. We’d been talking about our plans for the long weekend on our drive back, and Carver mentioned Joel was on a camping trip.

  My car idles on the street because there are absolutely no parking spots available. Street-parking in Seattle neighborhoods is crazy-bad.

  I turn to face Carver. “Thanks for going with me. I had fun today.”

  His tall and muscular body barely fits in the front passenger seat of my car. Even with his seat pushed back as far as it can go, it still looks too compact for him. I have to angle my body to look him in his eyes.

  The late afternoon sun shines across the side of his face, highlighting the dark blond scruff on his jaw. His grin is bright. And if I didn’t know better, calculating.

  “The day’s not over yet.”

  He’d caught me off guard earlier and I’d made the mistake of telling him that I had no plans for tonight, since I’m technically single.

  Last night, I broke it off with Jeff. Although it went well and he acted like a grown-up, he still requested that I think about it, and said if I changed my mind, he’d be there. I reluctantly agreed, but now I know for certain that will never happen. Jeff and I don’t have that spark.

  Nothing like what I have with Carver. If someone walked by us right now and brushed up against my car, they’d likely be electrocuted.

  BAM! Sizzle and fade to black.

  Carver leans forward, encroaching on my personal space, as I shift backward, my shoulder bumping the steering column.

  “I want more time with you.”

  I swallow thickly. There’s no excuse I can give him, even though it would be a futile attempt. He doesn’t take no for an answer.

  “Um...”

  He surprises me then when he wraps both hands on each side of my jawline, holding me still. My heart rate skyrockets and my breathing accelerates. He can feel it. Hear it. See it.

  Carver leans in slowly...ever so slowly...

  “I want to kiss you again.”

  My breath stalls. My mind goes blank.

  “Do you remember our first kiss?” he asks, softly stroking my cheek with his thumb.

  I nod my head.

  “It feels the same way now. Only it’s more intense.”

  I nod again.

  His lips are just about to brush mine. His breath warm against my mouth. I’m so ready to just give in to him. To let go and enjoy this brand-new thing we’ve rekindled.

  Honk, honk, honk.

  Three loud obnoxious blares come from behind my car and startles us both. Carver growls in irritation as he pulls away, snapping his head toward the back window.

  “Asshole,” he mutters.

  I laugh at our situation. I’m blocking the road, leaving no room for the driver behind me to maneuver around because the street is too narrow.

  “I’ve got to move,” I say in a panic, more to myself than to Carver. I put the car in drive and accelerate forward a little too hard in my haste, earning a laugh from him. I make a sweep down the street, turning at the roundabout to circle back around to the house.

  While I drive, Carver takes out his phone. “What’s your number?”

  I rattle it off as he enters the digits into his contacts.

  “I’ll call you later. You can send me your address and I’ll pick you up.”

  “You’re being kind of presumptuous, aren’t you?”

  He’s not and he knows it. I’ll give in and go out with him and he’s that arrogant to know I won’t deny him. My guess is no girl in the history of the world has ever denied Carver Edwards anything.

  “Let me have a do over and rephrase that. I’ve never actually asked a girl out on a date before, so that wasn’t very eloquent.”

  I pull to a stop once again and stare at him incredulously. “Wait, you’ve never dated before?”

  Carver lets out a scoffing chuckle. “No, I didn’t say that...what I said was that I’ve never asked a girl out. I’ve never had to.” He shrugs like it’s no biggie.

  I’m very confused. Maybe I’m dense, but I don’t understand what he means. He’s dated, but he’s never had to ask...oh, wait. Now I get it.

  “Oh...that’s right. Mr. Big College Basketball stud. Silly me. I guess I should just fall down and kiss the ground you walk on.”

  “If you wish.”

  His dimpled smile and sarcastic reply have me taking a swing at him for being such a self-centered jerk, but he grabs my forearm before I can lay a palm on his chest.

  “Gah – you’re so...”

  I can’t finish that statement because Carver yanks me forward and crushes me with his mouth. My body complies instantly to his demands, free-falling into his touch. I just hope there’s a safety-net to catch my fall.

  We kiss for a few minutes until I find my resolve and pull away from his warmth. I glance at his lips, which are shiny from my kiss. I can’t deny what I’m feeling for him. I do want more, even if it’s just for the weekend.

  My breath is choppy and I notice the windows are foggy from the steam forming on the inside. Our first kiss in a car. And it was hot.

  “I’ll call you. Be ready.”

  Before I can say anything else, Carver is out the door and up the walkway toward the small bungalow house. My eyes can’t help but stare after him as he walks away. Tall. Built like a strong, sturdy house. Kind and genuine, yet boastfully arrogant.

  There’s so much about him that I don’t know yet. Things I’ve missed since he’s grown from a strapping teen to a full-fledged man. Did I make a mistake all those years ago shutting off all contact? Perhaps our lives would be different if I’d chosen a different path and not followed his father’s orders.

  Regardless of the circumstances, I’m here with him now. The world still spins on its axis, using the same gravitational pull that seems to draw me into Carver’s world. A fly in a spider’s web.

  I’m caught and I’m not sure it’s even worth fighting.

  Chapter 12

  Carver

  My phone has thirteen messages on it when I return to Joel’s. I’m half tempted to ignore them all, but most of them are from my sports agent, Cristopher Markum.

  I met Crissy two years ago after the NCAA championship game my sophomore year, in which we sadly lost. Seems to be a theme for me.

  At the time, I was eligible to declare my intentions to draft, but I’d chosen to remain in school. I’ve always known I was destined to be a NBA player, but I didn’t want to lose out on a regular college life. For my parents, it was my education that I would inevitably need to fall back on someday when I retired from the game. Which for a professional basketball player, can come as soon as you hit thirty.

  Sure, there have been numerous NBA players that have outlived their expiration dates out on the court. Namely, Tim Duncan, Kevin Garnett and Vince Carter. They’re all pushing forty and still on the court. But for the average player, retirement typically comes in your late twenties. The game
is fucking hard on the body. And that’s if you aren’t sidelined with injuries.

  At the time of our initial meeting, Crissy pushed me to draft early, citing all the reasons why I should consider – mainly money. I could have made four million dollars or more by now. Instead, I owe forty-five grand in college tuition. Well, technically my parents paid for my college education. I just had to stay in school for it.

  I open the texts on my phone.

  Crissy: Need to talk to you

  Crissy: Urgently

  Crissy: Need your signature on the endorsement contract for that shoe line

  Crissy: And we need to consider your options and plans for draft. I’ll have Angela schedule your flights

  Two weeks from now is the draft. Over the last two days, I’ve nearly forgotten all about it. I haven’t thought about the game or any of the stress that comes with it while I’ve been filling my time with Logan.

  I’m not sure what that means. That’s never happened before. For nearly ten years, I’ve lived and breathed the game. It’s all I’ve ever thought about. My life’s ambition.

  Now all my thoughts are on Logan.

  The future seems blurry. Unfocused. Like the crystal ball is now cloudy and uncertain.

  The phone rings and startles me out of my thoughts. I press the button without checking the display, because I assume it’s Crissy.

  “Yeah?” I answer.

  His voice is authoritative. Direct. Father-like. “Why must I hear you’re in town from Ken Watson?”

  It would be nice to hear a normal greeting from my dad. Would that be too much to ask?

  “Don’t know why Ken Watson should even know I’m in town. I haven’t seen him.” I search my memory over the last few days. Nope, haven’t seen him.

  “His daughter, Cari, saw you at some party. You know how I feel about you being in public drinking. It’s not good for your image.”

  Ah, yes. My image. My father’s only concern. Heaven forbid the media would find out a twenty-two-year-old, recent college graduate and soon-to-be NBA hopeful was out drinking at a bar. Because that never happens. Maybe next time, I’ll pull a Charlie Sheen. See how he likes that.