Page 33 of The Promises We Were Never Meant To Keep

“Now you’re almost done.”

I pout. “You ate half my cone.”

His eyes fall to my lips. His bottom pulls in only to roll out a second later. “I’ll get you another. Later.”

I roll my eyes. “Eager to swim?”

His head rolls back against the head rest. “You have no idea.”

There is it. That hum of fireflies in the deep of my belly. A quickening only he seems capable of awakening within me.

I take a nibble from my cone before I hold it out to him in sacrifice. He laughs that deepening sound I love so darn much as his fingers curl around my wrist again, and he leans in to take another big chunk off my cone.

We share the rest of my treat before we climb from the truck into the late June heat. Puffy white clouds drift lazily across the sky now, offering a gentle reprieve from the sun. I slather my body with waterproof sunscreen as Mom has trained me to do. Holt watches, leaning against the box of his truck.

With a wiggle of the bottle and my heart in my throat, I ask, “Get my back?”

His throat works around a swallow as he nods and pushes off the truck. Saying nothing, I give him my back and listen to the sound of the cream smoothing between his hands before those hands are moving against my back. Over my skin.

He spreads the sunscreen slowly, drawing a shiver of awareness to the surface of my flesh as his hands drift over my back, skipping the thin band of my bikini on their way to my shoulders, bare of the hair I hold to the side. His hands aren’t smooth as they’d been last summer. Holt spends the days he’s not playing hockey working for his dad’s company, so there’s calluses now. The rough of his skin against the smooth of mine is yet another reminder that we’re growing older, even if I dream of staying like this—just like this—forever.

His big hands work the cream into my shoulders, even though I’ve already applied it there, skimming up the column of my neck. I bite down on my lip as my body comes alive under his touch. When he dips his head and I feel the heat of him close, my breath snags in my chest.

When he angles my head to the side with his hand around my throat, thumb pressing into my jaw a moment before his mouth touches the skin just beneath my hair, my stuttering heart kicks into full gear.

“I love the feel of your skin under my mouth.”

I love his words. “Me too.”

He pulls in a shuddering breath and steps back. I busy myself with shoving the bottle back into my bag as Holt pulls his own bag from the box of the truck. He takes my hand in his, holding it tightly as he guides me to the beach. It’s not a minute after we’ve laid our towels in the sand that Holt throws me over his shoulder and runs for the water.

A whole new range of emotions pulse through me as water splashes up at me, the cold sizzling on my overheated skin with every big step he takes. He’s laughing as I shriek. I know when his hands find my waist over his shoulder that he’s about to toss me into the water. With a surge of self-preservation, I wrap my legs around his waist as he pulls me off his shoulder. My arms band like iron as they lock around his neck, and he grins a devilishly handsome, heart-flutteringly daring grin as he stares up at me in challenge.

And then he says, “That’s how you want to play it?”

“Not letting you dunk me?” I huff. “Absolutely.”

“Game on, baby.”

I know what he’s going to do the instant his body lurches. I scream as I bury my face in his broad chest, even as he wraps his arms tighter around me. With my body pinned to his, Holt submerges us both into the cold. Lake water swallows the echoing shrieks of laughter that ping from the mountains surrounding us. I hold my breath as I loosen my hold on Holt, shoving away in an attempt to escape him that fails. Just as I crest the water, sucking air into my lungs, I’m being pulled under again. His hands graze my sides and bubbles of air filled with laughter burst from between my lips as he gets serious about tickling me. That’s when the fight turns real and desperate for me, and with a hip to his chest, I escape him again.

Being a strong swimmer, I get a few paces away before he catches me again. Because, of course, Holt is stronger than me in this, too. He would be, being raised here in these mountains with this lake as his main source of summertime entertainment.

“Stop!” I warn firmly. “Holt, I’m serious. If you tickle me⁠—”

“What are you going to do if I tickle you?” he challenges from over my shoulder where he’s pinned my back to his chest. A finger drags down the length of my side and my body lurches, a reluctant giggle bursting from me.

“Stop it!” I shriek when he does it again. “Holt!”

“I love your laugh, Faye,” he tells me with another devilish stroke. “You don’t do it enough.”

I’m going to die if he keeps tickling me. Seriously, die. “Please.” I gasp. “Please.”

His hand drops from my side to that terrible place every ticklish person knows is the worst. Gripping my thigh, his fingertips wiggle just right into my flesh, and this time I well and truly scream. It pings off the mountaintops to dive back into the bowl where we squirm together in the water. His laughter rolls into mine, deep and low to my high and pleading. My body wiggles and writhes against his. Water splashes around us. I beg and plead and finally, finally, he relents.

My body sags against him as I gasp for air. “It’s not fair that you’re not ticklish.”

“Just the way the cards fell, I guess.” I shoot him a glare over my shoulder. He raises a brow. “Round two?”