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Her eyes heavy with want, I wait a beat for her rejection or a simple shift away from me. I swallow hard when it doesn't come, afraid my next move will ruin the moment. I haven’t been this nervous since I kissed Penny Rose in ninth grade.
I trace my fingers up her neck as I slide closer to her, across the turquoise velvet couch. It’s taking major restraint to keep this slow.
“You should tell me to stop,” I beg through my hunger.
“And if I don’t?” Her lips part with a mute invitation.
I pull in a ragged breath, her sweet smell filling my lungs as I cup the back of her neck. Dipping my head, my lips brush against her shoulder as I whisper, “Then things are about to happen.”
“Then stop talking, Ball Boy.”
She snapped the ball right into my hands. It’s all about the execution now. My mouth covers hers softly at first, waiting for regret to kick in. But rather than pull away, she pushes into my kiss with reckless abandon and her body folds against mine. Her taste causes a dizzying loss of control. Fingers scrape down my scalp and I moan into her mouth.
Someone clears their throat. I jerk backward and jump across the couch like a teenager busted for making out with his girlfriend. I push off and stand at attention, meeting the cold eyes of a tall gray-haired man.
“Dad, what are you doing home?” Aspen asks, her voice jumping a couple octaves. She joins me by my side. The man’s glare bores into me for a couple more seconds before turning to her.
“I didn’t feel well, so I cut my fishing day short. What are you doing?”
I step forward, holding my hand out. “Hi, Mr.…”
Fuck! I don’t even know her last name.
His jaw tightens, and he shakes his head, knowingly. “Mr. Foley,” he chides, ignoring my outstretched hand. I drop it, shoving both my hands in my shorts pockets.
“Dad, don’t be rude.”
He lets out a humorless laugh. “I just walked in on my daughter making out with a stranger.”
“He’s not a stranger.” She pops her hip out, her tone hardens and he stands taller, not about to let her win this.
“Aspen, he doesn’t even know your last name. What are you doing? I thought you were over this stage.”
My spine stiffens in her defense at his insinuation that I’m just another affair, and I'm pissed that he’s being an asshole to his daughter. She shoots me a quick look of apology before throwing him daggers with her eyes.
“I am an adult and I would appreciate it if you treated me like one. This is my house and I would like you to leave.” The carefree girl I’ve become addicted to becomes hard and cold. Her body radiates next to me.
I keep quiet during their war of wills, knowing my voice will only aggravate things. But this is awkward. The old man turns his icy glare to me. It screams death. My death.
“Whisk—” I stop. Not the best time for nicknames. “Aspen, I should go.”
“That’s an excellent idea. We’ll leave.”
She grabs the white box and my arm and drags me out the door, past her fuming dad. So much for good first impressions. She keeps hold of me until we reach the canoe. If I didn’t need her help to get back to my hotel, I would tell her to stay.
I give her the time she needs as we row in silence. As much as that was uncomfortable for me, I’m sure it wasn’t a cakewalk for her.
When we pull up to my hut, she remains seated. I sigh, wondering if this is it. “Whiskey, I’m sorry.” I stand and pull myself up to the platform.
Glancing up at me through tears, she says, “Why are you apologizing? My father is the one out of line. You did nothing wrong.”
I shrug. I’m partly responsible for their fight. “Do you have to leave?”
She blows out a deep exhale. “I’d rather not. But I need to deliver this and talk to my dad.” Those are tears of guilt. She has a way better attitude about forgiveness than I do because if that was my dad, there would’ve been blows.
“Well… Aspen Foley, it was nice to meet you,” I say with a lightened tone, flashing a smile. It works. She softly laughs, biting her lip and a slight growl from my throat escapes. I want to be biting her lip.
“You too, Ryker Dallas.”
