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“I’m glad we both have the courage now,” she says, circling back around to the matter at hand.
“Who knows if I’ll actually be brave enough to ask you to come home with me.”
“Well you better, because my moms are both home, so no chance of us going there.”
I wouldn’t want to cross either of Angela’s moms. I’ve only spoken with them a few times, but everyone in Harborview knows everyone else. One of her moms, Donna, made her money working on Wall Street in the eighties and nineties, and carries herself with a serious, steady grace. Kate, on the other hand, is a firecracker, always the first to offer to whip up a pitcher of margaritas for the other moms or interrupt others to give her opinion in town meetings. And Angela is their beautiful, intelligent daughter—poised like Donna, with Kate’s blonde hair, and the quiet confidence of someone who knows who theyare because their upbringing allowed them the chance to explore themselves freely and while loved.
Angela Burns knows exactly who she is, and that’s why the fact that she wants to go home with me rocks me to my core. She doesn’t do things lightly, without thinking them through, and she means what she says. I realized this fact the summer that I met her, when we were eleven.
“Do you remember when we met?” I ask her, staring at her profile as she looks into the fire. The slope of her nose is perfect. I want to catalog it, and the curve of her cheeks, too. Her cupid’s bow. The arch of her dark blonde brows. The turquoise of her eyes dancing with flames.
“Carter, can you please just?—”
“Just give me a minute here, Ange. I want to know if you remember when we met.”
“I do. We were eleven. It was at Cat’s house.”
“Her parents were throwing a barbecue. Though, they only had veggie burgers so I’m not sure if that actually counts as a barbecue.”
“Your point?”
“My point is that one day, soon after that party, we were at Inlet beach, choosing teams for volleyball. And you pointed right at me and said?—”
“‘You’re mine.’ That’s what I said. I remember.”
“Even then you knew exactly what you wanted,” I tell her. “And that day, I figured out what I wanted, too.”
“We were eleven,” she says, but a blush blooms across her cheeks and I know that she’s pleased to know how long I’ve been pining.
“Doesn’t matter,” I tell her. “I knew. Come home with me?”
“Yes.”
I hold my hand out to her, and she takes it, placing her palm against mine, interlacing our fingers. This first contact betweenus sends a jolt of electricity through me, striking like lightning over and over again in my chest. We slip off the beach together without saying goodbye to our friends, and no one seems to notice us as we leave, which is fine by me. Neither Angela nor I are fans of the Harborview gossip mill, and I’ve never heard anyone say a peep about her dating life, probably because she keeps it tightly under wraps.
As for me, I’ve barely dated anyone in Harborview because I’ve been fixated on the girl beside me for the last nine years. No one else compares to her. No one else has her wit or intellect or smile or laugh.
We get into my car, and for a moment I have to remind myself that this is not a dream—this is actually happening.
We drive to my house in silence, just enjoying each other’s company, and Angela rolls down her window, the wind catching her hair and whipping it around her face. When we get to my house, we head in through the back door, and the lights illuminating the deck and pool are still on.
“Should we take a midnight swim?” Angela asks.
“Definitely. I’ll just go change into some board shorts, and I can see if we have an extra suit for?—
“Carter,” she says, looking me dead in the eyes with that fearless stare of hers.
And then she slowly unbuttons her shorts, and slips them down to her ankles, stepping out of them. My mouth goes dry at the sight of her long, tanned legs and her rounded hips. Her hands come to the hem of her shirt, and she lifts it over her head, revealing a lacy white bra. She takes that off too, and her heavy breasts swing free.
Not saying a word, she shimmies out of her underwear, and then takes a perfect swan dive into the deep end of the pool, her blonde hair flowing behind her in the water like a mermaid.
I stand there in stunned silence for a moment and then I scramble, tugging my clothes off and following her into the deep end.
ANGELA
“God, Ange, don’t stop, you’re killing me.”
I never thought I’d hear Carter Steel’s voice rough with desire, like it’s been hewn from stone. But here we are. And here I am, my hand wrapped around his cock, my mouth lightly sucking the tip.
