Page 110 of Washed Up

He laughed, a deep rumbling sound. ‘I remember those.’

They watched for a few minutes more, until Dylan finally lowered the binoculars from his eyes, a wide smile lighting up his features.

‘Shall we sit?’ said Frankie, indicating her favourite bench on the path behind them. It was little more than a plank of wood across two large boulders, but some kind visitor had crafted a backrest a decade or so ago, making it infinitely more comfortable. She had spent longer in this spot over the years than she cared to count.

‘Sure,’ he said, plonking himself down next to her and putting his arm along the back behind her. She shifted in her seat. ‘That was great, thank you,’ he said.

‘You’re so welcome. Puffins rule.’

And so, they ate their picnic listening to the chatter of the puffins and the call of the gulls, and Frankie just could not stop the smile that was now fixed – permanently it seemed – to her face.

‘So,’ she said eventually, taking a swig of lemonade straight from the can. It was impossibly fizzy after the walk and prickled her tongue.

‘Yeah. That’s my sad story,’ he said, turning to look at her, squinting a little in the bright sunshine. ‘Pathetic, right? And also, I know, boo hoo, what have I got to moan about, eh?’

Frankie touched his knee, but her face was serious. ‘Hear me when I say this. It’s not pathetic. What they did was not okay. And I would be in bits, quite frankly, so I think you’re coping pretty well.’

‘I’m dying on the inside,’ he said, although his mouth twisted into a crooked smile that melted her heart. ‘Or at least, I was when I arrived.’

She thought back. Jake. Oh God. ‘But you seemed so together that day. I never would have known.’

‘Together? I was a wreck. I’d hauled myself here across land and sea. Mostly sea. I had a bit of seasickness from the ferry and I’d been dumped by my band and then there you were, on the beach holding hands with that fisher dude. I was so jealous I nearly lost it completely.’

Frankie inhaled sharply. ‘You were jealous?’

His gaze dropped to her mouth. ‘Of course I was. I was gutted.’

‘You were? I thought you didn’t come back here for me.’

Dylan frowned. ‘Did I say that? I don’t think I said that.’

Frankie nodded vigorously. ‘You did. You definitely did. You said you needed to write, said you wanted to be alone. I distinctly remember. Trust me, I would not have forgotten something like that.’

He edged a little closer to her on the bench so their knees were touching, the hand behind her lifting ever so slightly to brush against her curls. A delightful shiver ran through her.

‘I said I wanted to be alone. But I meant, alone as in not surrounded by people all wanting a piece of me. Not surrounded by girls who only want me because they’ve seen me on TV or Instagram or whatever.’ Frankie winced at that. ‘Not surrounded by my betraying so-called friends or my bloody manager or anyone else. Alone… with you.’

‘With me?’ Frankie practically squeaked out.

‘How can you doubt it?’ he said, his eyes roaming over her face, making her squirm.

‘I mean, I’ve doubted it every day since I met you,’ she said, with what she hoped was a light laugh but sounded more like a cackle.

He just smiled and leaned towards her, his navy-blue eyes hooded and sexy as all hell.

Oh my God Dylan Wright is going to kiss me was all that went through her head as his lips brushed hers, lightly, gently, barely a whisper of a kiss to begin with. He pulled back for a second, smiling into her eyes, and her heart flip flopped in her chest. That smile. It had started so sweetly, but now turned positively wicked, his eyes flashing, full of suggestion. Her cheeks burned with desire as he lowered his mouth to hers again and kissed her, soft and slow at first, then deeper, more passionate, lighting up parts of her she didn’t know existed. Frankie had known Dylan would be an amazing kisser from the very first moment she set eyes on him, had been longing for this moment, but she couldn’t have predicted the way her entire body would be set on fire from that single tiny spark.

What she did know was, she never ever wanted him to stop.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

It was almost overwhelming, this chemistry between them, this pull. The kiss she had dreamed of for so long, this moment that she’d fantasised about, it was even better in real life. Almost too much. Too. Damn. Good.

As Dylan Wright kissed her on that bench in the warm sunshine, his mouth claiming hers, setting her, well, everything, on fire all at once, it was like an out of body experience. One hand was in her curls as he kissed her, deeper now, pulling her to him, his tongue grazing hers, exploring her mouth with his own, moaning softly as, emboldened, she moved her tongue against his. One strong arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer, the other hand was on her knee, slipping slowly along her thigh until he was circling the sensitive skin of her inner thigh with his thumb. Her insides by this point had transformed into molten jelly or hot lava or some combination of the two.

More, more, more.

She melted into him as the kiss got more intense, his tongue fully exploring her mouth now, harder, more insistent, and burning heat was spreading across her body like a wildfire, in the depths of her stomach and between her legs, causing her toes to curl.