Page 35 of Striking Range

“He is,” Everett confirms, so I shove him off me.

“Fuck you,” I sneer, but it lacks any real bite.

Everett shrugs, as if he has every right to touch up on me and announce the state of my body to all of Florida.

“Let’s swim then!” Kelly suggests. “I brought my swimsuit.”

Before I can give my opinion on the idea, she grabs my hand, leading me to the car. Behind me, Everett grabs my things from the bench.

Honestly, swimming doesn’t sound that bad.

Ten minutes later, we’re parking at a more secluded part of the local beach. There’s a shitty little dock and a lot of open water, but not much else.

Kelly strips off her clothes, revealing her two-piece swimsuit. My eyes dart to Everett, but he’s not paying her any attention.

Henry ditches his pants, opting to swim in his briefs, and Everett follows his lead. I didn’t bring trunks, so a second later, I’m pulling my shorts off too.

Kelly dives into the water, Everett and Henry racing to the end of the dock to see who can catch more air. By the time I make it to the edge of the dock, they’re all bobbing against the waves.

Henry and Kelly are splashing each other, laughing and screaming, enjoying the warm air and the sunset.

Everett stares up at me, eyes dragging over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. Pleasant yet unnerving; oh so confusing.

I think that allowing him to taste me has unlocked a whole new plethora of alluring expressions Everett can make.

“Come here, puppy,” he commands, voice low enough for just my ears to pick up, his blond hair stuck to his forehead as his arms move around him in the water.

I can’t stop the grin that overcomes my face, and before I know it, I’m jumping in and coming up right next to him.

Everett laughs, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “Nice.”

I splash him.

Our legs brush under the water, and we both become aware of this connection at the same time. Everett’s eyes find mine, honey in the setting sun.

“Enjoy the game?” I ask him, searching for literally anything to say.

“I sure did.”

I jump slightly as I feel his fingertips graze my stomach, my abs flexing under the touch. I shiver without my own consent.

He smiles, and for lack of anything better, I say, “Good.”

“Mhm.”

I feel his fingertips again. They’re making passes, swiping slowly over my navel in spaced-out intervals. And I let him; I welcome it. The warmth, the affection, the curiosity.

We’ve never had a problem casually touching each other before, but now everything feels so charged, so full of something that I can’t quite name.

Every time I feel the warmth of his skin on mine, a little voice inside of me starts screaming, more, more, more!

“Are you coming to my apartment tonight?” I keep my voice casual, making sure I don’t imply something I shouldn’t.

He cocks his head. “Should I?”

“If you want,” I offer, and Everett smiles wider.

“I want.”