Chapter 6 — Hollis Point #7
“Of course you noticed. You’re Luke fucking Whitaker.
You notice everything and pretend you don’t.
” Her hand slid up to my jaw, fingers tracing the line of my stubble.
“I used to watch you from our dock. You’d be working on your boat, or swimming, or just standing there looking at the water like it was telling you something I couldn’t hear, and I’d think, that’s the man.
That’s the one. And then I’d feel insane because you were Luke, and you were thirty-six, and you looked at me like I was Knox’s little sister with a dirty mouth. ”
“Not anymore,” I said.
“No.” Her eyes held mine, clear and certain. “Not anymore.”
I pulled her against me, one arm around her waist, my hand spanning the small of her back where the skin was warm and smooth, and she came willingly, her body fitting against mine with a rightness that should have taken years to find and had taken about an hour by a fire.
She was real. Not theoretical, not one of the girls, not Trouble to be managed or filed away.
She was Shay Hollis, who had just fucked me senseless under the stars and was now curled against my chest making jokes about air mattresses because vulnerability scared her more than desire ever had.
And somewhere beyond the tent, beyond the private fire, Kiki was waiting.
Kiki, who had been first, who had broken the line and walked through the door and was now, according to every signal she’d given, absolutely thrilled that Shay had gotten what she wanted too.
The harmony of it should have simplified things.
One woman happy for another, no jealousy, no competition, just six beautiful wants converging on a single point that happened to be me.
It didn’t simplify anything. It made the want larger.
Warmer. More impossible to pretend away, because now it wasn’t just Kiki’s golden certainty or Shay’s wild hunger.
It was both, and four more waiting their turns, and the house I’d built for myself filling up with something I had no name for but recognized, on a cellular level, as belonging.
“We need a plan,” Shay said, practical suddenly, her finger tracing idle patterns on my chest. “For tomorrow. For walking back into the world where my dad thinks you’re the responsible one and I’m just his daughter with a potty mouth.”
“I’m listening.”
“I told Mom I might crash in the tent tonight. Girl stuff, you know. The bonfire, the games, too much rum punch, don’t wait up.
” She shrugged, the motion shifting her breast against my ribs.
“So that’s covered. Kiki knows. She’s probably already texted the group chat.
By morning, everyone will know, and nobody will be surprised, and if anyone asks, we had a lovely time roasting marshmallows and discussing marine conservation. ”
I laughed. “Marine conservation.”
“Shut up. It’s plausible.” She propped herself up on one elbow, her breast hanging heavy, her dark hair falling across her shoulder, and looked at me with that mix of warmth and wickedness that was purely Shay.
“The hard part is you. Walking back to the main house, sitting across from my dad at breakfast, making small talk about boat storage while I’m sitting there knowing exactly what your cock feels like inside me.
” Her smile turned gentle. “You can do it. You’re good at the responsible face. I’ve watched you do it for years.”
“I’m not sure how responsible I feel right now,” I admitted.
“Good. Don’t.” She kissed me, slow and thorough, her tongue against mine in a way that had nothing to do with heat and everything to do with claiming.
When she pulled back, her eyes were serious.
“This isn’t a one-night thing, Luke. I didn’t wait two years and orchestrate a bonfire and fuck you against a log just to call it a summer fling.
I want more nights. A lot more. In your bed, in this tent, in the boat cabin we almost ruined, everywhere.
I want mornings. I want coffee in your kitchen and your t-shirt and the way Kiki looks at us like she won the lottery when she sees us together.
” Her hand found my face, fingers framing my jaw.
“I’m in this. All the way in. The question is whether you are. ”
The question hung in the warm tent air between us, heavy with everything it meant. Not just Shay. Not just Kiki. All six of them, the house, the life I’d built, the trust I’d carried for years now transforming into something I couldn’t map yet but wanted with a clarity that surprised me.
“I’m in,” I said.
She smiled, that real smile that reached her eyes, and curled back against my chest with a satisfied sigh. The air mattress squeaked beneath us, the lantern cast long shadows across the tent walls, and beyond the thin nylon, the lake breathed against the shore in its ancient, patient rhythm.
“Fifty times,” she whispered against my skin.
“Minimum,” I agreed, and her laugh was the last sound I heard before sleep took us both, tangled and warm and farther past the line than I had ever planned to go.