The day drifts by peacefully, and for the first time since we got here, it actually feels like we’re on vacation. Bryce keeps his promise and leaves his phone in the lake house all day, only checking it when he goes inside to grab a drink or use the bathroom. We swim, sunbathe, and nap until dinner, and since the guys are ordering in, I make us dinner in the kitchen.
“I have to leave right after breakfast tomorrow,” Bryce says, stuffing a forkful of salad into his mouth. “It’s still a two-hour drive from here, and I need to swing by the hotel first.”
I nod, stabbing a piece of potato onto my fork. “And you’ll be back on Thursday?”
“Friday,” he corrects. “Check-out is at eleven, so I’ll be here after lunch.”
~Another night without him.~ I bite my lip.
“Sounds good,” I say, trying to sound cheerful.
He reaches across the table, taking my hand. “And if you want more quality time, you ~could~ always consider letting me move in with you.”
I smile. He’s been asking to move in for years, but I’ve held off. My apartment is my sanctuary—the only place that’s truly mine. And besides, he’s there most days of the week anyway.
I grab our empty plates and load them into the dishwasher.
“Tyler’s dad got a new car, did you know?” Bryce asks, getting up.
I send him a droll look. “Why would I know that? Why do ~you~?”
Bryce waves me off. “Our dads play golf together. Anyway, it’s a ’55 Gullwing. He just got it to impress people.”
I hum absentmindedly. Sometimes I forget Bryce has known the guys as long as I have. He used to live next door to us, and Tyler and Corbin both lived just down the street. The guys and I didn’t really hang out with Bryce though—he was kind of an odd child. Not very social, a little strange-looking. I didn’t even like him until he came to my rescue that day—
“Are you listening?” Bryce’s voice shakes me out of my thoughts.
“Sorry, I was lost in thought. What did you say?”
Bryce exhales, annoyed. “I was just thinking we could watch a movie in bed.”
I try to look excited. “Yeah, let’s do that!”
Outside, the guys huddle around the fire pit, getting ready to roast marshmallows again. Part of me wants to join them—until I see the girls.
Two blondes and a redhead, all very pretty. Two of them are draped across the chairs, and one is perched on Corbin’s lap. I can’t help but wonder if it’s the same girl from last night.
I tear my gaze away and precede Bryce to our room. We pick a movie and snuggle under the covers.
“I had such a good day with you,” I mumble about halfway through, slipping my hand under Bryce’s shirt.
“Yeah,” he says. “Too bad I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Too bad,” I agree.
“We should make the most of our last night together,” he murmurs, flicking off the TV.
A smile spreads across my face. “I like the sound of that.”
He leans in, pressing his lips to mine. I melt into him, letting him roll on top of me. His tongue slides into my mouth, performing the same choreographed routine it always does. It’s familiar—safe. ~A little boring, but oh well.~
Soon, his hands are on me, and then my clothes are gone. Bryce grabs a condom, rolls it on, and moves to settle between my thighs, but I stop him.
“Wait. What if we try something new?”
Bryce frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” I drawl. “A little foreplay, maybe? Or a new position? We always do the same things.”
He looks impatient. “But I’m ready to go.”
I sigh. “Yeah, I know, but maybe we could just—”
The rest of my sentence is swallowed by his kiss.
“We know what works for us,” he says, pushing inside me without further ado. “Never change a winning team.”
I just lay there, staring at him as he works himself toward his release, then finishes with a loud groan.
“See?” he pants, satisfied. “That was great.”
I don’t even pretend to agree this time. I just wait for him to fall asleep. It doesn’t take long before he starts snoring.
The throbbing between my legs intensifies, aching for me to finish what he started, but I’m too frustrated. I slide out of bed, tug on some clothes—pants too, this time—and slip out of the room.
The house is dark, the fire put out.
Disappointment settles in my chest. ~No sneaky s’mores, then.~
I aimlessly wander toward the kitchen, and rummage through the cabinets. There isn’t much there, but I find a half-eaten bag of pretzels, and I decide that’ll be my sad excuse for a midnight snack.
I’m just about to stuff a handful into my mouth when a door swings open across the living room. The redhead staggers out, giggling.
“You know, we ~could~ go for another round,” she purrs, sliding a hand up Corbin’s arm.
He’s in nothing but sweats again, his chiseled muscles gleaming under the dim light.
“You’d never be able to walk again,” he quips, guiding her toward the front door. “Wouldn’t want to put you in a wheelchair.”
“It might be worth it,” she murmurs breathily.
Corbin just cocks his head to the side and smirks. “Are you okay to drive?”
Her smile falters. She digs through her purse for her keys.
“Daisy!” Another feminine voice calls out, and suddenly another girl bursts out of a different room. “Can you give me a ride? I think Stella left already.”
The girls link arms and disappear down the driveway.
Corbin shuts the door and turns around, his gaze immediately snapping to mine.
“Aww,” I coo. “Didn’t even let her stay for a little cuddling?”
He walks toward me, unfazed. “She’s a quick fuck.” His voice is deep. Lazy. Bored.
I cock a brow. He’s in the kitchen now, bracing a forearm against a cabinet.
“I don’t let quick fucks stay over. I don’t like things getting messy.”
“Ever the romantic,” I say, shoving the handful of pretzels into my mouth.
“I didn’t need her for ~romance~,” he says. “I needed her to get me off. Which she did.”
I scoff. “And yet you judge Bryce for doing the same thing.”
The corners of Corbin’s mouth twist into a wicked grin.
“But it’s not the same, is it?” he drawls. “I made sure Daisy got ~plenty~ of pleasure. She would’ve never left my room if it were up to her.”
I grab another handful of pretzels, holding his gaze, trying to look bored. It only seems to fuel the fire in Corbin’s eyes.
He steps closer.
“That’s what a real man does,” he says slowly. “A real man makes sure his girl is screaming with pleasure before even thinking of himself. Bryce doesn’t do that, does he?”
The air rushes from my lungs. ~“Screaming with pleasure”~—~I can’t even imagine what that’d be like. ~
I shift uncomfortably. “I’m just fine, not that it’s any of ~your~ fucking concern.”
Corbin chuckles, deep and knowing. “See, ~that’s~ the problem,” he murmurs. “You shouldn’t be ‘just fine’ after sex. You should be on cloud nine.”
He leans in. “Maybe that’s why you’re so fucking uptight all the time—you just need a good, hard fuck.”
“You’re such a fucking asshole,” I snap, grabbing the bag of pretzels and darting around him.
He catches my wrist, locking me in place. “Bet he barely gets you wet before he’s done,” he murmurs.
Fire ignites behind my eyes, and I see red. I open my mouth to yell at him, but before I can, he’s already speaking again.
“Does he ever slide his fingers through you so slowly it makes your eyes roll back? Does he trace slow circles around your clit until you can’t breathe?” His voice is silk, smooth and slow, dragging over my skin like warm honey. “Then does he inch up the pressure—just enough to make you start writhing against him?”
A shiver slides down my spine. My mouth goes dry. Bryce never talks about sex like this. Whenever I bring it up, he shuts me down instantly.
Corbin, on the other hand, seems completely unbothered—like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like the word “clit” isn’t something dirty or disgraceful. Like touching myself after we’re done isn’t the shameful part at all—it’s the fact that Bryce doesn’t do it during sex.
“Does he slip in a finger at a time?” His voice dips lower, dark and sensual. “Stretching you out so you can take all of him?”
I go completely still.
“Or…” He drags the word out, watching me like he already knows the answer. “Does he even ~need~ to? Is he so small you barely feel the stretch?”
Heat surges under my skin. My face burns.
I don’t answer. I can’t. Because…I usually ~don’t~ feel any kind of stretch.
~Is that a thing? Is that bad?~
I swallow hard, but Corbin catches it. His smirk deepens, something dark flickering in his eyes as he inches closer—until he’s right up against me. Something thick, hard, and massive nudges my thigh.
I go rigid.
~Holy shit.~
Corbin doesn’t move, doesn’t react, doesn’t acknowledge it. Just lingers, his voice a quiet rasp. “Thought so.”
Then he steps back, turns around, and walks off like nothing happened.
And I—I can’t move. Can’t breathe.
Because all I can think about—
Is exactly how much stretching ~he’d~ need.