Second Chance Summer (Chance #1)(34)
Author: Emma Hart

The sassy, determined, confident person who takes things in her stride and doesn’t take anything lying down. The person not afraid to speak her mind and be honest. The person who goes after what she wants without thinking about it, without overanalyzing every little detail.

The person who doesn’t let the past of her parents define the present of her.

Because if I could pretend to be her so easily, then maybe she’s the person I have been all along. Maybe she was just buried under all the bullshit of everyone else.

The smell of something burning reaches my nose, and I open my eyes.

“Um, Reese?” I mutter.

“What?”

“I think the barbecue food is burning.”

“Shit!” He lets me go and flips over, grabbing the barbecue tools. He tries in vain to rescue the food from the hot coals, but when I look around him, all I see is charred burgers and pathetic looking chicken. Reese looks at the food, closes his eyes, and sighs helplessly.

I can’t help it. I snort and cover my mouth with my hand, looking at him. Cooking really, really isn’t his forte.

His eyelids snap open and he stares at me, a glint in his eyes. He smirks and dives toward me before I’ve fully comprehended the mischief in his expression.

My back hits the soft, hot sand, and he leans over me, his hands either side of my head. I look up at him as he slips one of his knees between my legs, essentially trapping me beneath him without even touching me.

“You do realize how long it’s going to take me to get this sand out of my hair, right?”

Reese grins. “I don’t care.”

“And I’m practically wasting away because I foolishly let you do the cooking… Again.”

“That’s not my fault,” he whispers, lowering his face to mine so his words cause air to cascade across my lips gently.

“You could learn to cook?” I suggest, half-breathless as he lowers his body on top of mine. His chest, rock hard from years of playing on school football teams, presses against mine, and our bodies mold together like they were made to be as one.

“Or you could cook. You’re a woman.”

“And that’s sexist.”

“Baby,” he mutters. “I fix cars. I’m not exactly the guy on board with the whole feminism thing. Besides, you’d look good in a kitchen.”

“I bet you think I’d look good on my hands and knees scrubbing a floor with a toothbrush, too.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, but you do have one hell of a nice ass, so now you mention it…”

“Now I mention it that toothbrush would look good stuck up your nice ass.”

He laughs and brushes his lips across mine. “You cook and I scrub floors?”

“Sounds good,” I mumble, snaking my hands up his arms to his shoulders. His lips touch mine again, softly, and I crane my neck to kiss him harder.

His fingers creep through the sand to cup the back of my neck and head, teasing my hair. My knee bends, my foot resting against his calf and my bare thigh rubbing against his shorts. Heat pools in my stomach as his tongue teases between my lips, meeting mine, and he slides his other hand down the length of my body and below the rising hem of my dress.

His hand holds my thigh against his, his palm rough against my softer skin, and he massages slowly with his fingertips, just brushing the bottom of my bum. My muscles clench with each ghost of his fingertips and my back arches into him.

Our kiss deepens into something more desperate, needier, and Reese suddenly pulls away. He takes two deep breaths before speaking.

“Inside.”

He rolls off of me, and I don’t need telling twice. I slide my hand into his, letting him pull me up and drag me in the direction of the beach house.

The door slams behind us at the same time Reese slams his lips back into mine. I gasp, shocked at the pressure behind his kiss, and he takes advantage of that. He sweeps his tongue into my mouth, the tip of it flicking into every corner. It glides along the length of mine, forcefully deepening the kiss, tasting me and claiming me simultaneously. I grip his hair, twining it around my fingers, and our feet move in the direction of the stairs. His hands cup my thighs, and he lifts me the way he did our first night together, wrapping my legs firmly around his waist.

He tugs my head to the side and takes his lips from mine. They blaze a raging, lust-filled trail of want across my jaw and down my neck. His breath is hot against my skin – so hot it makes the temperatures outside look arctic – and I know my breathing is just as rapid as heated as his. I know my grip on him is just as desperate and wanting and needing as his is on me.

I know my clawing as his clothes is just as frantic as his at mine.

My dress slides over my head seconds before I yank at his shirt. He drops over me on the bed, our lips crashing together again. I grip at his back, my toes finding his belt loops and tugging at them as if that will drop his shorts. Instead, my fingers trail around his sides and across his stomach to the button and deftly undo it.

He unties my bikini top at the same time his shorts drop. His tongue swirls downwards and around my breast, making my breath catch in my throat. It holds there for a second before leaving my mouth as a breathy moan, and his tongue flicks over the tip of my nipple, lighting my body on fire.

My hand slides into his boxers as he continues his assault on my chest, and I grasp at him, taking the hard length of him into my hand. I move my fingers along him, teasing him with varying degrees of pressure. He bucks his hips, pumping into my fist closed around him, and takes my hand away.

Reese’s fingers find the waistband of my bikini bottoms, and he removes them swiftly. His fingertips stroke along the wetness at my core, his thumb finding my sensitive clit and rubbing softly. He sweeps his tongue along my lips, and I push into him, slamming our chests together, and the only thing barring total contact of our bodies is his arm between us.

His fingers dip in and out of me, curving and curling against me, making me writhe and push into him desperately. It seems like a forever of harsh pants, incoherent moans and whimpered pleas before he finally tears open a condom packet. The rip is music to my ears.

Reese breathes out deeply as he lifts my legs and guides himself inside me. Heat spreads upwards through my body. My muscles tighten, and my fingers sink into the skin of his lower back as he moves us together.

With our bodies so close, touching every part of each other and connected in every possible way, I’ve never felt so at home.

CHAPTER 11

I tear my eyes away from Reese’s morning workout – shirtless morning workout – on the beach, and answer my ringing cell without looking at the screen.