I lay next to him, staring at the perfect, masculine concave of his torso. The sand is cool against my naked hip and the lukewarm water laps at my feet. I stroke the muscles of his back, my fingers turning silver—thanks to the full moon—as they curve around his waist.
“Six days,” I whisper.
There’s no answer but the soft applause of water against sand. My hand traces the curve of his hip, his thigh. My thumb brushes coarse hair and I hear a ragged intake of breath. I slide my arm over his front and snuggle close to him.
“We’ve known each other six days,”
“Do you count the number of days since you’ve met your lover when you have sex with him?” I feel the reverbrating of his ribs as he murmurs the question.
I chuckle, “No. I—I just haven’t fallen this hard since…ever.”
This time, he’s the one to express amusement. He turns over to face me and I press myself against him, desperate for his warmth, his comfort.
Against the insults that will surely come.
“They don’t know about me,” I confess against the column of his throat. I dare to peer up at his probing blue eyes. “About my attraction to the same sex.”
His eyes spark, “I’m the only one who knows,” Not a question. A statement.
I correct him, “Lily knows. I told her when I graduated two months ago.”
“From high school?” he asks. I nod.
He swears, the curse echoing across the beach. “You’re younger than I thought.”
“I’m not naïve, Andres,” I tell him. “I’m far from innocent,”
A sigh, a whispered, “I wish you weren’t.” Then his lips pucker against mine, as soft as the water is wetting my skin. My drowsiness appears in that instant and I roll him on his back, already feeling his arousal against my belly.
We lose ourselves in an electrifying kiss and I sigh as he pulls me closer, drowning myself in the passion.
Wanting this intimacy to last forever.
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