We run out of the water and all of me is pain.
The sky blazes red and Marion shivers with her whole body. She’s three steps to my right. Hair snaked over her face. Eyes wild with salt and sting. It makes me laugh.
Wind tears past us and I know we can’t stay out in this chill. But the rush, the clarity, makes the pain seem inconsequential.
This must be what Mom drank to find.
Marion cuts across the sand and steps in front of me. She backpedals before stopping and there’s boldness in her eyes. Her clothes are wet and I can’t think straight.
I pull her against me and her mouth tastes like salt. Her hands snake over my chest and I groan, wanting her. She shivers, pulling me close, and I know I have to get her off this beach. There’s no way I’m laying her down in the sand.
I pick her up, and her jean-soaked legs wrap around my waist. Somehow, I make it to her car and I lay her down in the backseat. She moans, body arching, and her mouth finds mine. She feels so small in my arms. Delicate, in a way that makes me not want this to go too fast. But she reaches inside my pants.
I press into her and begin unbuckling. Her jeans are so wet they’re hard to remove. Our feet scraping against each other and covered in sand.
I pull back and look at her. Blond hair is splayed over the seat cushion, wet and dark as seaweed. She looks straight at me, her eyes dark, and sits up. She pulls her shirt up over her head and leans forward, kissing me lightly.
She unhooks her bra and lies back, under me.
We’ve been like this before.
In my car.
“Are you—” I start, but she pulls me into a kiss, peeling down my pants.
I throb and want—
But I shouldn’t.
Not with this girl. Not after the disaster in my car, with her shaking. And no matter how much I want to pretend this doesn’t mean anything, I already know that it does. And fuck, I hate that I want it more because it does.
Her hands are all over me and her body seems to want this. Mine certainly does. And this would already be done if—
I pull back and find my coat. It’s wedged between the armrest and the floor. I rummage through the pockets for a condom. I find one inside the first sleeve, but pretend to look in all the other pockets—just in case she needs a minute, to decide, or . . .
I look back and she’s shivering. Instinct puts my mouth on hers again, and that tremble becomes a quaking in both of us.
I want this.
I want this in a way I didn’t know I could want it.
I put my lips to her ear because I have to ask.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I say.
“Yes,” she says, and her hands dig into my back when I enter her. Her throat releases a sharp gasp of breath, and even though I knew she hadn’t done this before, it still surprises me.
I slow and move to the sound of the ocean.
I slow till all I hear is the crest of her breath.