I feel like a kid again, like I’ve never even held a girl’s hand. My heartbeat is skittering, my whole body feels alive with panic, but still, there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be. The beach is empty, we’re all alone. Just for a moment, she’s mine.

  I smile at her, so full of gladness just to be here with her. Brit stares back, like a deer in the headlights, but she doesn’t let go of my hand.

  Thank God she doesn’t let go.

  I clear my throat, awkward. “So, Susie, tell me about yourself,” I say, trying to sound casual. “What brings you to Beachwood Bay?”

  “I’m just passing through.” Brit replies slowly “I’m… really from the city. My parents have a place there. I’m starting fashion school soon.”

  I turn in surprise. “Oh yeah?” Fashion school. I should have guessed. She’s always wearing these cool, unique outfits. It never occurred to me that she had made them for herself. I play along with the story she’s building. “What do your folks do?”

  “My mom’s a designer, too,” Brit replies, and I swear I hear a twist of something sad in her voice. “And my dad… he’s just a regular guy. He works in an office, but he’s always home for dinner at night.”

  “Sounds nice,” I take a long breath, just imagining that fantasy. Ordinary parents, a simple, normal life. “My parents are pretty regular too.” I say, They’re teachers. We live in the middle of the suburbs, with a dog and a minivan.”

  “What’s your dog’s name?” Brit asks.

  “Hans Solo.” I reply without thinking.

  She giggles. “You’re a Star Wars geek, huh?”

  I can feel my cheeks flush. “Yup.”

  But she doesn’t say anything cutting, just falls silent again. Comfortable.

  I walk beside her, just enjoying the feel of her slim hand in mine. Even though we’re both telling lies here, it feels somehow like we’re being more truthful than ever. Maybe you can tell more about someone from their daydreams than anything real in their life. Already, I know that Brit wishes she had a normal family, that she dreams of going to design school, that she wants a father who’s home after work every night. I don’t know the details of her real life, but knowing this imaginary one seems even more intimate: a secret she’s only sharing with me.

  Maybe the confession is too much for her, because Brit suddenly speaks up, her voice bright and loud. “But enough about everyone else,” she announces. “Tell me about you. Favorite ice cream flavor.”

  “You know that.” I shoot her a sideways look. “I order it every time.”

  “Chocolate fudge,” Brit laughs.

  “And you like those milkshakes, with mint chocolate chip.” I reply.

  Brit stops. “How do you know that?” she demands, surprise clear in her voice.

  Busted. I give her a bashful grin. “I see things.”

  “Like what?” Brit asks.

  My heartbeat pounds. “Little things.” I shrug, trying to make it seem casual, and not like I haven’t taken my eyes off her all summer. “Like, you always wear so much black, but your favorite color is purple,” I admit slowly. “And you never keep your hair the same way for more than a week.”

  “Oh.” Brit looks embarrassed.

  Now I’ve made her feel uncomfortable. Why the hell did you have to say that? “I’m not stalking you, I promise,” I add quickly. “I just notice you. I can’t not.”

  Brit doesn’t look at me, her expression impossible to read. I wish for a moment she was like the other girls I’ve know: their thoughts written clear as day across their faces, everything obvious, and right there to see. But that’s what makes Brit so special. Nobody else is such a mystery to me. Nobody can surprise me, the way she does.

  “This way!” Brit suddenly cries, loud. She drops my hand and hurries ahead, scrambling up a series of rocks and over the top of a small cliff. She doesn’t look back, so I start after her, feeling my way across the rough granite. It’s hard to find footholds, but Brit bounds ahead like it’s nothing. She must have been here before, a hundred times, to know the route so well.

  Has she brought other guys? A whisper of doubt sounds. Is this her usual spot, a hideaway she comes to all the time?

  No.

  I don’t believe the rumors, not for a second, and besides, I somehow know for sure that Brit is taking me someplace special, a place that means something to her. Tonight, we’re both letting our guard down, showing a side nobody else gets to see, and I feel privileged just to be scrambling through the moonlight with her, embarking on an adventure I know I’ll never forget.

  I’d follow her anywhere.

  I clear the ridge and see we’re in a private cove, sheltered from the rest of the bay. The shadow of an old lighthouse looms up ahead of me, and to my right, Brit is standing motionless on the silvery wet sand. The ocean waves roll in, soothing, and it’s like we’re in a world of our own, a million miles from anyone else.

  I approach slowly behind her. “What is this place?”

  “It’s my place.” Brit replies, sounding self-conscious. “Nobody knows about it, but I like it here. Everything’s so peaceful.”

  She sits on a large rock, hugging her knees to her chest. I wait a moment, unsure, and then go to sit beside her. I watch the lights of town shine out across the bay, and I understand. This is her escape, her own secret refuge. Like me and the ranch, this is where she goes to feel alone. Alive.

  “Just you and the ocean.” I say it quietly, and I see the relief slip across her face. She nods, reaching down to take a handful of sand. She lets it fall slowly through her fingertips, her breathing getting slower, more relaxed.

  “So, Bob,” Brit says, with a note of amusement in her voice. “What is it you want?”

  I jolt with surprise. Is she talking about now, tonight? Way to be obvious. “What do you mean?” I ask carefully.

  Brit gives a little shrug. “Now, tonight, in life? What do you want?”

  Oh. I exhale with relief, but then I realize, this question isn’t any easier.

  What do I want?

  I stare out at the ocean, trying to find the words. “I can’t remember the last time someone asked me that,” I confess slowly. “Everything I do, it’s like it’s all been planned out for me, and I’m just walking in someone else’s footsteps.”

  Brit turns to me. “You mean your brother?”

  I shake my head. “No. Maybe,” I add. “But mainly it’s my parents, and their parents, and their parents…” I sigh, thinking of the great Covington legacy. My parents remind me, all the time. I’m privileged. I’m blessed. I have a duty and a responsibility to do Great Things with my life. Forget normalcy, or happiness, my brother and I are destined to build business empires and rule nations—or at the very least, the state.

  From the day I was born, failure has never been an option.

  Brit is still silent beside me, and I realize how ungrateful I must sound, especially compared to her life. “I’m lucky, I know.” I add quickly. “I have so much opportunity, I just… I guess what I want is for someone to ask what I want, once in a while.”

  “Then I guess you got what you wanted tonight,” Brit tells me, looking over for the first time. Her eyes blaze in the moonlight, and suddenly, everything I’ve just been talking about washes away, lost in the midnight tide. Everything disappears, except for her. This. Right now.

  I stare back, lost in the promise of her stare, and the shadows the silvery light casts across her face. She’s so close now. So perfect.

  I feel my heart rise in my chest, aching with a need I’ve never felt before, and I know, I’m lost to her. To hell with the shadow of tomorrow looming over the both of us, and all the reasons why I’ve kept my distance.

  She’s all I want. She’s everything.

  “Not yet,” I breathe softly, and then I reach out to brush my hand against her cheek.

  I can’t help it. I want her too much to resist. Just a touch, that’s all I need, one touch of that perfect skin against my fingertips, the touch I’ve been dreaming about for weeks now, driving myself insane.

  There.

  I swear time stops at the feel of her skin, soft as silk under my fingertips. Brit inhales a shaking breath, but she doesn’t move away, just gazes at me, wordless, with those soulful dark eyes asking a million questions I can only dream of answering.

  My heart thunders. Emboldened, I trace my thumb across the outline of her jaw, cupping her cheek in my palm. It fits perfectly, like my hand was made just for her. She trembles under my touch, and it sends a shock of lust racing through my veins, desire like I’ve never known.

  How can she do this to me, with just one touch?

  I stroke her face, softly, memorizing every angle and plane. Every inch of skin, so sweet, every flicker in her eyes. We’re suspended here together, like the world has fallen away. Nothing but me, and her, and the tantalizing sensation of soft skin under my hands.

  I slide my thumb over her lower lip, the soft pillow of pink. Brit gasps, her eyes widening, and God, it takes every ounce of self-control in my body not to ravage her right there: to claim her mouth with my own, pull her hard against me, and take the kisses I know would change my world forever.

  But I have to hold back. I have to be sure this is what she needs, that everything I feel is reflected in her.

  “What do you want?” My voice is hoarse with desire. I hold her gaze, desperately searching. “What is it you want tonight?”

  She looks at me, and it makes my heart stop, the certainty in her gaze. Bold and steady, daring and true.

  “You.”

  Her answer crashes over me, a rush of exhilaration. I can’t believe I’ve heard it right, but Brit says it again, her voice steady in the quiet of the night.

  “I want you.”

  I wait another moment, desperate, but suddenly too scared to act. It feels like a dream, the two of us together. But even in my wildest fantasies, day-dreaming about this moment, I couldn’t have imagined the clarity in her eyes, and the sweetness on her beautiful face.

  Then Brit reaches up and touches me. She strokes a strand of hair that’s fallen over my eyes, and the spark that crashes through me is electric. Alive.

  And then it isn’t a choice anymore, it’s gravity. As natural as the waves still crashing before us on the shore, as perfect as the sliver of silver moon hanging in the midnight skies. I lean into her, my lips searching until they find their rightful home; capturing her glorious mouth in a kiss so sweet, I never want it to end.

  Brit sways into me, and then she’s mine. Heat and softness, tender and true. And I know, deep in my bones, I’ll never be the same again.

  ***

  He kisses like an angel. A sexy, depraved angel, who makes me forget my own name.

  God.

  I fall into the kiss, needing to taste it all before this dream fades away to nothing. Hunter’s tongue caresses mine, soft and sensual, sending shivers of desire like lightening through my veins.

  I’ve never been kissed like this, never felt anything like it. The scent of him, the feel of his hand against my cheek, I’m overwhelmed, drowning in a dizzy pool of pure sensation, but too soon, it’s not enough. I want more.

  I want everything.

  As if reading my mind, Hunter slides his hand around to the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair as the other goes around my waist, pulling me in against the hard warmth of his torso.

  I tremble. His muscles are solid beneath the thin fabric of his T-shirt, and I slide my hands up the planes of his back, across his broad shoulders. Hunter makes a low noise against my mouth, and then the kiss is deeper, wilder, his tongue searching and insistent as I melt against him, breathless in his arms. I can’t think, I can barely breathe, all that matters is the feel of his hands on me, and the dark, dangerous pleasure of his mouth on mine.

  All the boys I’ve kissed before, all the fumbled, selfish groping, it’s nothing now that Hunter is kissing me. They were just boys, I realize.

  Hunter... Hunter is a man.

  He finally pulls away, gasping for air. The look in his eyes is wild, burning with desire for me. I feel an answering ache, low between my thighs, a hunger that demands to be satisfied.

  “God, Brit,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. “You’re so beautiful.”

  I flush. He’s not the first guy to ever tell me that, but he’s the first one I believe.

  In answer, I reach for him again, sliding my hands through his silken hair and pulling his mouth back to mine, where it belongs, to taste him all over again.

  This kiss is deeper, darker, a lit fuse burning closer to detonation. I press myself against him, wild with abandon, not caring what he might think, or how it looks, only caring about the heat of our bodies and the feel of his lips, and the fire racing in my veins, driving me closer to the edge.

  I’ve never wanted anything like this, never felt such raging passion. It’s consuming me, crashing through my defenses and leaving me shaking and reckless in his arms. Hunter tears his lips from mine, but before I can make a noise of protest, he kisses his way down my neck and along the sensitive hollow of my collarbone, making me moan with the pleasure of his lips. I feel him gasp against me, and then his hand is sliding around to my front, brushing softly against my breast with a delicious pressure that makes me shudder under his touch.

  God, yes.

  Hunter strokes again, his thumb catching my nipple through my thin dress, and I can’t help but moan again at the sweet friction, hearing my voice as if from far away.

  “Jesus,” Hunter swears, lifting his eyes to meet me. His breath is ragged now, his eyes bright and ravenous. “Brit, I...”

  I stop him with a kiss, then take his hand and rise to my feet. I’m unsteady, but certain: we’re long past words, there’s nothing left to say. Conversation would only drag me out of this delirious state I’m in, give me time to question and reconsider, and talk myself out of the one thing I know I need more than anything.

  Him. All of him.

  Now.

  I tug his hand, and Hunter comes willingly, following me across the rocky shore to the shadow of the old lighthouse, long since deserted. The handle gives way easily under my grip, and the door opens, hinges groaning with age. It’s dark inside the small, round room, but moonlight falls through the windows, illuminating a dusty floor and some old furniture, and the winding staircase in the corner.

  I pause, my desire suddenly making way for embarrassment. What am I doing, bringing him here? I’ve taken shelter in the lighthouse from a dozen summer storms, days when the winds kicked up too quick to make it back to town. I always thought the peeling paint and old wooden furniture was romantic and faded, telling a story of some other time, but now, I send an anxious glance over to Hunter, wondering if he thinks it’s just a run-down old shack.

  “This is amazing,” he says instead, crossing immediately to the old wooden chest in the corner, hand-carved and still standing, a good twenty years after it had been abandoned. “How is all of this still here?”

  “Nobody comes around.” I shrug, “There are easier places for the kids to hang out.”

  “I love it.” Hunter goes to the far window, looking out over the rocky shore and the bay beyond. “It’s like we’re hidden on the edge of the world.”

  He turns back to me and our eyes meet across the small room. It’s like a switch has been flipped, flooding my body with desire all over again. Suddenly, I remember what we were doing, before I brought us here inside.

  What we were about to do.

  My breath catches in my throat as Hunter slowly crosses the distance between us. “Thank you for bringing me here,” he whispers, reaching to brush a lock of hair back from my eyes. “For sharing this with me.”

  I nod, entranced by the blue of his eyes, deep as midnight in the dark room. He doesn’t realize, this place is only part of what I’ve shared. The things I’ve told I’m tonight, the way I’ve let him in... It’s more than I’ve given any guy before.

  “Brit” He murmurs my name, so soft, it’s barely a whisper over the distant crashing of the ocean. “God, what you do to me...”

  He trails his index finger down my cheek, along the curve of my jaw, then lower still. I shiver, my eyes falling shut, lost in the darkness and the low, clawing thread of desire. I’m hypnotized, powerless to do anything but feel the shiver of his caress on my skin. Lower, lower, he trails his finger along my collarbone, slowly teasing along the neckline of my dress.

  He stops.

  My eyes fly open, staring straight into his. He’s watching me, studying me with such intensity, I want to look away, but I can’t, I just gaze back, helpless, as both his hands sweep up along my bare shoulders and then slowly, deliberately, push my thin straps aside.

  My heart skips. The dress is flimsy, and I’m not wearing a bra underneath, but there’s no time to feel self-conscious, not when Hunter’s fingertips are dancing across my skin, sending shivers of quicksilver pleasure spiraling out from his touch as he edges the thin fabric lower, lower, until it falls around my waist and my breasts are bared, pale in the moonlight.

  Hunter sucks in a ragged breath.

  “God... Brit...” He stares at me, and despite my mindlessness, I feel a thrill from the desperate desire written clear on his beautiful face.

  “You’re perfect,” he breathes, staring at me like I’m a work of art, a priceless treasure. “So fucking perfect.”

  I catch my breath, waiting for the clumsy assault: the pawing, the rough grope that’s surely coming now. But Hunter barely moves, he just takes that one, perfect finger, and strokes it slowly over the slope of my breast.

  I shudder.

  He strokes again, tantalizing, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. The ache in me is coiling tighter, rising higher with every touch. Hunter gently circles one nipple, and then slowly drags his thumb across the tight nub. I whimper, the pressure so sweet, but somehow not enough. I feel myself arching against his hand, my body demanding more.

  Hunter lifts his eyes to mine, and gives me a slow, wicked smile. “You like that?” he murmurs, dropping his lips to my neck in a trail of delicate kisses. I shiver against him in answer, my body flooding with an unfamiliar need. “Tell me, he whispers, his tongue wreaking havoc against the column of my throat. “Tell me if you want more.”