Chapter Twenty-Three
Sam
“Sam.”
My eyes snap open, my heart racing as I twist my head to see Ciara standing in my open doorway.
“Hi,” she whispers, stepping inside. “Did I wake you?”
“Yes?” I reach for the light. “You’re literally in my room calling my name.”
“I know. I was being rhetorical.”
“My mistake.” I sit up, squinting her way as my eyes adjust. “What time is it? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. There’s a full moon tonight. Did you see it?”
“Can’t say that I did,” I say. “Because I was asleep.”
“Well, it’s pretty spectacular, and I wondered if…” She trails off, looking unsure, and I try very hard not to look at her bare legs in those tiny shorts.
“Are you asking me to look at the moon with you, or are you asking me to join some sort of ritual sacrifice?”
“No one ever wants to look at the moon with me,” she says, just short of pouting. “I used to have this tradition where I’d go and stargaze, but I haven’t done it in years and I don’t want to do it alone. Plus, it’s massive tonight. It must be a special one.”
“It’s the same one as yesterday. It’s just our perception that—”
“Sam.”
“I would love to look at the moon with you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, swinging my legs out of bed.
“And you won’t make fun of me?”
“Not to your face,” I say, and the smile she gives me makes me want to pluck the thing from the sky and give it to her on a silver platter.
“I’ll get my keys.”
Keys? “We can’t look at it in the garden?”
She shakes her head. “I know a much better spot.”
Which is how ten minutes later, I find myself sitting next to her as she drives down the empty roads.
It’s not like I would have said no to her, anyway.
I’ve been on edge all day waiting to see her.
Needing to know that she doesn’t regret what happened.
She doesn’t act like she does, smiling as she sings along with the radio, and I’m so absorbed by her that I don’t even ask where we’re going.
Don’t even realize where we are until we get there.
The beach is deserted. Devoid of the cars that usually fill every space. Ciara passes Maddie’s shuttered smoothie truck and parks right by the sand, the world going silent as soon as she turns the engine off.
It’s the kind of silence that freaked me out the first few nights I was here. I’m used to noise, to a constant hum. A taxi in the distance. Music from a house party. But in Carrigwest there’s nothing. Or at least nothing but the ocean lapping at the shore.
“Where is everybody?” I ask as we get out. It’s late, but I thought there’d be a few campers around. Or some college kids having a bonfire.
“There’s a smaller beach about fifteen minutes away,” Ciara says, catching what I mean. “It’s more secluded. Plenty of dunes to sneak into.”
“Speaking from experience, are we?”
She winks, stretching her arms overhead as I admire the view of the ocean.
“I could definitely be a country person,” I say, but Ciara just gives me a look.
“You’d miss New York. I bet you do already.”
I do, but I’m not letting her ruin my little fantasy. “I think I can even see it,” I say, peering exaggeratedly at the ocean.
“New York?”
“Yeah. That tiny dot in the distance? Brooklyn.”
“Try Newfoundland. And then try looking at a map.”
“I’m a fantasy editor, Ciara. I love looking at maps. In fact, I have a whole book of—”
I shut up as she grabs my chin, tilting my face upward.
The moon is just as big as she promised. Just as brilliant. But all I can focus on are the points where she’s touching me.
“It’s a supermoon,” she says, her voice hushed. She drops her hand and eases her neck from side to side. “The water looks nice.”
It does.
“Are midnight swims another tradition?” I joke, but she just nods.
“Yes.” And then she peels her shirt off.
Just like that.
No warning. No sly glance or teasing movement. She just grabs the hem and pulls it over her head before throwing it on top of the car. Her shorts go next: a quick flick of a button before they’re pushed down to her ankles, and then she’s standing in a bikini before me.
Thin straps, red polka dots. I catch only a glimpse before she turns and strides across the sand. She doesn’t even pause at the water’s edge, just goes straight in as if she’s never going to stop.
She does, of course. She lets the water get as high as her waist before turning and slowing down, moving languidly backward until it reaches her chest. I’m too far away to see her expression, but I’m going to guess it’s a real you scared? one.
I’m not scared. I’m terrified.
But what’s a guy supposed to do when a girl invites him for a midnight swim?
I dump my T-shirt next to hers and kick off my sneakers and jeans before striding after her.
It’s only when I reach the water that I realize how hardcore Ciara Sheridan is.
“What the fuck?” I curse as she throws back her head and laughs, delighted by my misery. Determined not to be outdone, I keep going, not stopping until I’m right next to her. “It’s freezing.”
“It’s the Atlantic Ocean.”
“I’m getting hypothermia.”
“You’ll warm up to it,” she says, and takes an exaggerated breath before disappearing beneath the water. She pops up instantly, wheezing from the cold.
“Do it,” she gasps.
“No.”
“It will make you warmer.”
“I don’t believe a word out of that mouth,” I say, and she plants her glacial hands on my shoulders. “I am, like, ten times stronger than you,” I remind her as she tries to push me in.
She just clicks her tongue before stilling.
The wicked glint in her eye is the only warning I get before she jumps, wrapping her equally icy legs around my body.
My hands automatically go to her waist to keep her steady, but I lose my balance in the process, and she shrieks as I fall backward, and we hit the liquid darkness with a loud splash.
I was right. I do not feel warmer.
I get back to my feet, shaking the water from my hair, only to find Ciara’s grip on me hasn’t lessened, and, when I rise, she does, too, her body pressed tight against mine. Hip to hip. Chest to chest.
She’s still smiling at me, her eyes as bold and bright as the moon, and I can’t help but feel like she’s something out of a storybook, or one of those legends from her father’s books. Something not of this world. Because how can someone human feel this good, feel this right in my arms?
We watch each other for a long moment, and eventually, although I’ll never admit it, I start to feel warmer, the initial shock giving way to something comfortable as my body gets used to the temperature. Maybe helped, too, by the woman in my arms.
“Do you know anything about astronomy?” she asks, looking at the sky.
“No.”
“Me neither.” Her chin dips back down and we’re eye to eye once more. And I think she’s going to let go. I think she’s going to slip back into the water like something from a dream and she’ll make a joke and I’ll make another and on and on and on.
But she doesn’t. She doesn’t do any of that.
She just gets this very serious look before her hands move to cup my face, holding me there.
“I’m going to kiss you,” she says, and she waits for me to nod before closing the final gap between us. There’s no buildup, no hitched breath or moment of anticipation. One second she’s looking at me and the next, my eyes are closed and her lips are on mine and all I can think is thank God.
I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind all day. If I’m being honest with myself, I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind since I got here.
We’re both hesitant at first, but we don’t stay that way for long. Her mouth is hot and open against mine and a ball of heat barrels through me, spreading its way through every inch of my body until it feels as if my blood is boiling from within.
We move with the ocean, and I hold her tighter, my hands snaking down to her ass as I get a steadier grip.
As soon as I do, her hips push against mine, small unconscious movements that make the water ripple gently around us, but there’s nothing gentle about us now.
The kiss deepens, and I want her so much it’s as though a match someone struck has turned into a blaze, one that’s made all the hotter because I know she feels it too.
She’s practically writhing against me, her breath growing ragged as she runs out of it, but still, she kisses me.
Still, she presses her body to mine like she can’t get enough.
I spread my fingers up her back until they hit the small knot of her bikini top and I thank God for my scouting days because I know that one quick tug and it will come loose.
One quick tug and she’ll be bare in the moonlight, and however much she’s willing to give tonight, I’ll take it. I’ll take it and I’ll—
She breaks away a second before I hear it, the car engine impossibly loud in the quiet of the night. Ciara grips my shoulders as we look toward the beach, just as a pair of headlights sweep around the corner.
It’s a camper van. Old and noisy, with surfboards attached to the roof. Just a couple of tourists bunking down for the night.
Neither of us moves, staying as still as statues as they continue driving until they reach the bend and disappear.
Once they’re gone, I turn back to her, my nose skimming along her cheek, but her attention remains firmly fixed on the beach.
“Do you think they’re hiding a body?” she whispers.
“Do I think they’re what?”
Her eyes swing back to me. “Too crimey?”
“Too crimey.”
“Sorry.” She licks the salt water from her lips, but her expression softens even as I feel the faint tremor of her body under my hands. She’s cold.
“We should probably get back,” I say reluctantly.
“Yeah.” A line appears between her brows. And then, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For looking at the moon with me.”
Something happens then between one breath and the next. Something sweet and piercing that makes me want to hold her closer and never let her go.
But she’s already moving away, extracting herself from my grip and catching my hand in hers as we wade back to the beach.