Page 98 of Small Town, Big Storm

Her fingers trace the curve.“What’s that for?”

“I was just thinking about that tiny red bikini.”

A rueful chuckle.“You’re a dog to a bone.”

I lean in, tuck her hair behind her ear.“Only about the important things.”

“Hmm,” she murmurs.

“What?”

“I’m just wondering about the otherimportantthings that you focus on.”

“That’s easy.”I lie back on the blanket, fold my arms behind my head, and stare up at the canopy of pine needles overhead.

Then I wait.

Because for all of Poppy’s admirable qualities, patience isn’t one.

A heartbeat.Two.Three?—

Then she’s rolling toward me, her palms on my chest, her face positioned over mine.“Tell me.”

Perfect.

I lean up, weave my fingers into her hair, and…

Finally, I fucking taste her.

Seven years disappear in an instant as our lips touch.She feels the same, tastes the same.Like a drug, like my heart, like myfuture.

A soft moan slides from her mouth to mine and then I’m rolling us, flipping her to her back, climbing on top of her.Our bodies remember this dance and she parts her legs, cradling my pelvis against hers at the same time she parts her lips, allowing my tongue to slip inside, to tangle with hers.

“Storm,” she whispers when I let her breathe.

But only for a second.

“These lips,” I rasp, taking her mouth in another deep, plundering kiss.“This body,” I say, dragging my hand along her side, tracing her curves.“This big, juicy…” I cup her ass but kiss her temple.“Brain,” I finish with a smile.

Her lungs are working in rapid succession, her eyes are glazed with need, those tempting lips swollen and her body relaxed beneath mine.“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I touch the tip of her nose.“Those are the important parts.”

Warmth bleeding into her eyes and her hands dive into my hair, hold tight.“Tell me again.”

I grin.

And then we’re kissing.

And touching.

But it’s only when I slip my hand beneath her shirt, my fingertips skating over the silky skin of her abdomen on a path straight for the motherland (those glorious tits of hers) when I hear?—

“It’s a public beach, children!”

We freeze and my head whips around to stare aghast at Gertie fucking Walkins as she slowly floats by.

“When the fuck did she learn how to paddle board?”I hiss.