The Summer I Destroyed You Excerpt
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“There’s a world of difference between sleeping with a guy to piss off your mom,” he says, moving closer still, until my knees are brushing up against his thighs, “and sleeping with someone because you can’t stand not to.”
He’s close enough to push my legs apart and step between them.
He’s close enough that he could lean down and sink his teeth into my lower lip. His index finger could trace a nipple, skirt along the seam of my yoga pants. I glance down and see a bulge in his jeans that wasn’t there a minute ago. I can taste victory on my lips. In this single misguided moment, I want this—his hands on me, his mouth on me, his…other parts on me—more than I want anything else. More than I want Lucas Hall. More than I want revenge. God knows I’d feel otherwise in the morning, but right now…it’s this, only this.
“You sure seem like a guy who wishes it was him I was about to fuck at an art exhibit.”
He places one hand on either side of me, bracing himself against the counter.
“I don’t need to take you to art exhibit, Princess,” he replies. He leans close, so his mouth is beside my ear. “We both know I could tell you to get on all fours right now. I could tell you to get on your knees and suck me off. You’d do any fucking thing I asked.”
The effect is primitive and immediate: my nipples pinch, my core clenches so hard it hurts, and I’m pretty sure I just ruined a pair of panties.
“You have the confidence of a much more financially successful man,” I reply, but my voice is weak. “And if you’re so sure of yourself, why aren’t telling me to get on my knees?”
His head lowers. His mouth is so close that I can feel his lips brush mine when he speaks. “Because I refuse to obsess over a girl who’s never going to stick around.”
“There’s a world of difference between sleeping with a guy to piss off your mom,” he says, moving closer still, until my knees are brushing up against his thighs, “and sleeping with someone because you can’t stand not to.”
He’s close enough to push my legs apart and step between them.
He’s close enough that he could lean down and sink his teeth into my lower lip. His index finger could trace a nipple, skirt along the seam of my yoga pants. I glance down and see a bulge in his jeans that wasn’t there a minute ago. I can taste victory on my lips. In this single misguided moment, I want this—his hands on me, his mouth on me, his…other parts on me—more than I want anything else. More than I want Lucas Hall. More than I want revenge. God knows I’d feel otherwise in the morning, but right now…it’s this, only this.
“You sure seem like a guy who wishes it was him I was about to fuck at an art exhibit.”
He places one hand on either side of me, bracing himself against the counter.
“I don’t need to take you to art exhibit, Princess,” he replies. He leans close, so his mouth is beside my ear. “We both know I could tell you to get on all fours right now. I could tell you to get on your knees and suck me off. You’d do any fucking thing I asked.”
The effect is primitive and immediate: my nipples pinch, my core clenches so hard it hurts, and I’m pretty sure I just ruined a pair of panties.
“You have the confidence of a much more financially successful man,” I reply, but my voice is weak. “And if you’re so sure of yourself, why aren’t telling me to get on my knees?”
His head lowers. His mouth is so close that I can feel his lips brush mine when he speaks. “Because I refuse to obsess over a girl who’s never going to stick around.”
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