Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“With me,” I reply, knowing it’ll be easiest if we just get it all out in the open.
Taylor’s cheeks are bright red as she nudges her elbow into my side. Then she rushes to add, “It’s just that Ethan was scared of sleeping alone in his tent, so he wanted me to stay with him. Something about monsters.”
I shoot her a narrowed glare.
“Don’t let Isla fool you—that was just a ploy to get you both to confess. She wasn’t in the cabin last night either,” Camille reveals with a proud smirk.
Isla throws a half-peeled orange at her, but Camille ducks out of the way just in time.
Tanner’s face is bright red as he glances down at his bowl of cereal. “Oh…uhh…”
“Tanner was scared of monsters too,” Isla mutters, and now it seems everyone’s private business is out on the table.
Brody and Jace find it all hilarious, and I’m pretty happy myself.
“Want some eggs?” I ask, directing Taylor to the seat beside Isla.
“Oh, um, yes please. And some toast if you can manage!”
“You know what? I bet I can,” I say mockingly before I head for the kitchen.
Just before I turn, I see Isla and Taylor smile at one another. Apparently, the tension from the beginning of the weekend is long gone now.
Sunday passes in a blink. We’re at the lake again, swimming and grilling just like yesterday, but this time Taylor is by my side, delivering lazy smiles, teasing me with her seductive beauty. I keep my hands on her whenever I can. We read beside each other and when she rolls over onto her back, I dip down and give in to the urge to give her a slow, unending, drugging kiss right up until someone shouts at us to stop. That red bathing suit is going to send me to an early grave, and all day I envision what it will look like when I finally peel it off her. That night, in the tent, I take my sweet time, savoring every moment before I lose myself inside her sensuous body. I keep expecting my desire for her to diminish, but it only grows hotter, more demanding.
Monday morning, the tents are broken down, bags are packed, and the grill and coolers are loaded back into cars.
The crew is due back today and because we slept in so late and took our time with lunch, we don’t have much longer before they start to arrive.
I can tell Taylor is nervous. At breakfast, she played with her food more than she ate it, and when I tried to pull her aside to talk after everyone left, she begged off, claiming she had work to do before the crew returned to camp.
That work is apparently washing the linens from our cabin and remaking our beds.
I find her in there in the late afternoon, sitting on my bunk, her gaze intently focused on the floor at her feet.
“Taylor?”
She looks up and smiles wistfully. The expression doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you, actually.” She pushes off the bed. “Would it be okay if I used your phone? I haven’t talked to my family all weekend.”
I hand it off and she goes outside to sit on the porch. I try not to listen, but her voice carries easily. The topics don’t sit well with me—car repair payment and overdue bills—especially considering what she revealed to me last night in the lake.
Then her mom must ask how things are going here.
“It’s good…fine. I really enjoy the work, actually.” There’s another pause, and then she continues, “I’m not sure. Hopefully a few months. I’m not exactly an essential part of the crew or anything.”
My gut clenches, and I make myself busy so I don’t look so fucking guilty when she walks in a few minutes later.
“Thanks,” she says, walking over to pass me my phone.
Our fingers brush, her eyes sweep up to mine, and there are two conflicting emotions warring there: desire and reservation.
“I heard your conversation.”
She shrugs and looks away, brows furrowed. “I should have walked farther down the path, I guess.”
“How much money do you need to get your mom’s car out of the shop?” I ask, apparently wanting to cut right to the chase.
Color blooms across her neck. “No, Ethan.” She steps back. “No. We aren’t doing this, okay? You and I are—”
“What? What are we? I’ve tried to talk to you about it all day and you’ve blown me off.”
“We’re having sex.”
“Obviously.”
“And we care for each other.”
She’s doing a good job talking in circles, but I like to be a little more direct.
“We’re in a relationship,” I say definitively.
Her eyes widen.
“What? Do you expect me to say I’m fine with no strings? I’m not that guy, and I’d rather you not pretend that’s what you want.”
Her smile is squashed down as best as possible.