Filfthy(64)

Leaning back in my lounger, I shield my eyes and give him a wink and a smile.

I like us like this. Fun. Carefree. We’ve evolved from the people we once were, turning into even better versions of ourselves.

Fun-Policing his party last month was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.

“Get over here,” he says with a playful growl, reaching for me.

I climb into his lap, straddling him, and his hands slink up my sides. With his fingers slipping under my bikini top, I glance around.

“Come on, it’s broad daylight,” I say, placing my hands on his.

Without hesitation, he lifts me up and carries me inside. He’s always carrying me, this brute of a man, making me feel light as a feather and safe at the same time. I suppose he’s well equipped for it with all those muscles. I’m not complaining. It’s actually pretty hot.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me for very long.” I cup my hands around his strong, square jaw and steal a kiss. A minute later, he lowers me onto his bed, his gaze intense and focused as he tugs my bottoms down my thighs with one slow drag. “For the record, I’m going to miss you, too, when I’m gone.”

Lowering himself over me, he dips down, pressing his lips into my neck and working his way up to my ear. My heart races and my body’s electric. Every time with him feels like the first, and I can never get enough.

With his hands on my hips, he rolls me to the side, lying down and pulling me on top of him.

“Show me.” His voice is low, animalistic, and his hands explore the heat between my thighs, massaging the head of his swollen cock against my pussy. “Show me how much you’re going to miss me.”





Chapter 30





Zane



I think I love her.

That or I’m losing my mind.

Maybe a little of both?

In the last three weeks, we’ve flown to Chicago and back, watched every available episode of Game of Thrones, took private cooking lessons with a Spanish chef to learn the art of the perfect Galician empanada, and challenged each other in dozens of Madden NFL games.

Delilah Rosewood truly is the quintessential girl next door – only better.

“Hey, that superhero movie you wanted to see comes out in two weeks.” She’s hunched over an iPad, sitting at my kitchen island on this Sunday morning as I simultaneously slave over the waffle iron and flip the eggs over easy. “That’s my last weekend here. Did you want to go see it? Maybe we can drive a couple hours to some random small town movie theatre and slip in when the lights go down?”

“Do you even like superhero movies?”

“Not really. But this one looks good. I’ll see it if you want.” She glances up at me, nibbling on her fingernail and looking innocently adorable. “Unless you’d rather go with your friends.”

I point the spatula at her.

“Right. ‘Cause I’d love to share a bowl of popcorn with Kai.” Scrunching my face, I add, “Nah, gorgeous. I’d take you in a heartbeat.”

The sides of her mouth curl and she returns to her tablet as I glance at the calendar on the side of the fridge.

“Two weeks? Oh. Shit.” I plate the eggs before they burn and flip the waffle iron. That’s the weekend of the Kick Off party.

“What? What’s wrong?” she asks.

I shake my head, waving her off. “Nothing.”

“Did you burn something?”

“Nope.”

I haven’t told her about Carissa, and I don’t plan to. She wouldn’t understand. It would put a damper on these last two weeks we have together.

Besides, if it were the other way around, I’d be beside myself with jealousy just imagining her on another man’s arm on a Saturday night. Even if she said it didn’t mean anything. Even if she explained up, down, and sideways that she was coerced into going. It would still hurt just the same.

If I hurt Delilah, I’d never forgive myself.

“I can’t do a movie that Saturday,” I say, checking the calendar one more time. A handful of appointments and meetings are scribbled into Friday’s spot. “Maybe Sunday afternoon? I’ll plan something special. Maybe we’ll take a drive to the coast?”

She rests her chin on the top of her hand and gazes through the window toward the backyard.

“What’s this party you have to go to?” she asks.

“Every year, the owner throws a kick off party just before camp starts. The players are all required to attend. It’s a black tie thing. It’s pretty lame.”

“I’m sure you’ll make the most of it.” She lets it go, and despite the fact that she and I both know we’ve had to keep our little arrangement under wraps all summer, it still makes me feel like a giant piece of shit for not being able to take her.