Surrender (Seaside Pictures #4) - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,26
my entire body buzzed with awareness as I finally ran a single finger down his length through his jeans.
Drew let out a low growl and then grabbed my wrist. “I said, say not touch.”
I tried pulling away, but he kept my hand between us. His eyes locked onto mine. “You know, originally, I was going to spout some shit to embarrass you, say I was talking about my heart when I was really leading with my cock the entire time, and you just had to touch and make me forget all about teasing, make me remember that the only thing I want to taste right now is you. And sadly, the only person I can’t have right now is you.”
I choked on my next breath. “It’s not a good idea.”
“It’s the best idea I’ve ever had, and one day I had an idea to help two turtles cross the road.” He laughed. “They lived, by the way.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was wondering while my hand was inches from your dick, whether the turtles lived.”
His eyes widened, and then he threw his head back and laughed so hard that he moved away from me and let go of both of my hands.
I sat up on my elbows and couldn’t help but smile. “I like your laugh.”
“And my dick,” he said, still laughing.
“And turtles,” I added with a giggle.
“Those little bastards were so slow, I aged ten years watching them try to migrate one foot, so really it was a selfish saving.”
“Still counts,” I teased.
“Hell yes, it counts.” He grabbed my hand again. “I like this side of you better than the protective little shell you like to keep stapled around your body.”
“Wow, sounds sexy.” I looked away.
“It is — you are,” he corrected. “I just like it when you’re freer.”
“Not all of us get that opportunity.” Did I have to sound so broken? So bitter? I hated myself in that moment. I hated that I’d let myself become that way, a shell of my former person.
A shell of the girl who used to skip school just so she could go surfing.
A girl who loved football games because she was able to scream as loud as she wanted.
A girl who played pranks on people and got detention for forking the principal’s lawn and filming it and then showing it during a pep rally.
“All of us get the opportunity. Not all of us take it,” Drew said. “You are always given the option, Bronte, to be yourself. Always.”
For some reason, his confession made me want to cry.
He was right.
I’d had opportunities over the years to live.
And I’d chosen to hide.
The divorce was my first excuse.
The kids my second.
“No, they were my responsibility, and I wanted to make sure that I took that seriously, that they wanted for nothing, that they were confident, that they had love and acceptance no matter what.”
“That’s all good, Bronte. You’re a good mom.” Apparently, I’d spoken all my thoughts out loud again. “But what happens when all that energy is tapped out? What happens when those kids have their own kids, their own lives? That leaves you with what exactly? I love that you’re a selfless person, but right now, I really, really think you should do something selfish.”
I pressed my lips together. “Something selfish, huh?”
“Yeah, something that even I would judge you for, like, ‘Whoa, slow your roll, Bronte. Don’t be such a selfish bitch…’”
I laughed. “I’m thinking. Plus, it’s not like we have a lot of options, camping out in my front yard.”
His eyes flashed. “So, we go inside. We walk down the road. Show me selfish, and I’ll show you life. Show me a weakness, and I’ll worship you until it’s your strength. The point, Bronte, is you do something.”
“Who are you?” I whispered reverently.
“A fuck up.” He shrugged. “Which is why I know all the things.” He winked. “Who’s the dumbass now…”
Easy laughter bubbled up. “Clearly, not you.”
“Exactly.” He stood and held out his hand. “What will it be?”
I opened my mouth just as the sound of Amelia and her friends running through the house interrupted our little interlude.
My face fell.
Time to be a mom again.
Make sure they have snacks.
Aren’t staying up too late and…
“Go take a bath.” Drew put his hands on my shoulders and turned me toward the glass door. “I’ll make sure they have food, know the rules, and don’t burn the house down.”
“Oh, I really shouldn’t—”
“Are you sure? Because if you don’t, I’m going to march into that living room