Bad Boy Summer (Bad Boys on Holiday Book 5) Page 10

  Ash pulled back, propping himself on his elbows. He ran his nose along her cheek and jaw, down into the hollow of her throat, where he pressed a hot kiss. “Is this what you want, beautiful? You want me to fuck you out here on this beach?”

  “Yes.” Pam answered without hesitation, grateful he’d said the word ‘fuck.’ It was a sharp reminder about the nature of this moment, this wild night, no matter what her time-machine memories were trying to tell her. She wasn’t out here to make love. She needed to be fucked, good and hard and messy. Fucked until Ash was finally out of her system.

  “You sure?” he said.

  Pam slid her hand between them, down inside his shorts. His cock was smooth and hot, thickening instantly at her touch. Pam fisted him, running her thumb over the tip, making him shudder. A surge of power coursed through her veins.

  Looking deep into his eyes, she said, “Fuck me, Ash. Please.”

  The sound that escaped his mouth didn't even seem human.

  He pulled a condom from his shorts pocket—thank God he’d remembered—and tugged the shorts down over his hips as Pam wriggled out of her panties.

  Leaning over her once again, he nibbled the sensitive skin on her neck, devouring her with his lips and tongue and teeth.

  “Oh, I’m definitely going to fuck you, Pamela. If this wasn't a public beach, I’d fuck you all night long, again and again until the sun came up and you were screaming my name.” He sucked her earlobe between his teeth, his breath hot on her neck. “Begging me for more.”

  Pam let out a shaky breath. A scream, a moan, a whisper—didn’t matter how, but she was ready to beg for everything. For all of him, every touch, every kiss, every inch of him inside her.

  Ash kissed her throat again, her collar bone, then her breast, flicking his tongue against her stiff nipple. He sucked it between his lips, then bit, grazing her with just the right amount of pressure.

  “Ash,” she breathed, arching her hips. God, the way he licked her. The way he sucked. The feel of her bare shoulders on the blanket, grinding into the sand beneath. The hot press of his dick against her thigh, so close to where she needed him to be.

  Every nerve in her body was on high alert, drinking in every sensation, desperate for more.

  Still tonguing her nipple, Ash slid his hand between her thighs, his fingers seeking her wet heat. He dipped one finger inside her, then pulled back, coating her clit in her own juices, making her writhe. She arched her hips to get closer, but Ash pulled back again, teasing her with slow, maddening circles that made the muscles in her thighs twitch.

  “Please, Ash. Don’t make me wait. I’m so close.” She might’ve appreciated his slow, torturous teasing a hundred times during their last summer together, back when she was still learning about her body, about what she liked, how she wanted it. But tonight, she didn’t want to be teased. Not now. Ash was naked and hard and just as ready as Pam, and she needed this now, more than anything.

  She clamped her fingers around his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh, but still, Ash wouldn’t relent.

  “How close?” he teased, sliding two fingers inside her.

  “Very.” Pam could hardly speak, hardly breathe as he pulled all the way out, then slammed back in, stretching her wide. “There. Oh God, right there.”

  “Right there?” Smiling down at her, Ash curled his fingers, pumping them harder, faster, hitting her in a perfect rhythm as his thumb rubbed her clit, his breath hot on her cheeks. “God, you’re so fucking slippery.”

  The muscles in her abdomen tightened, a tingling warmth spreading from her core as the pressure built to a delicious crescendo. One more second, and she’d—

  “Let go, beautiful,” he whispered.

  “Ash!”

  He captured her cries of pleasure with his mouth, claiming her in a desperate kiss as the orgasm exploded through her in a white-hot burst of pure pleasure, liquid heat flooding her core, her body tightening around Ash’s fingers as she rode him through wave after wave of aftershocks.

  With one hand fisting her hair, Ash positioned himself at her entrance and slid inside her, fast and deep and hard, a single thrust that had her clenching in pleasure all over again, even as her body adjusted around his hard length.

  “Fuck,” he said. “You’re fucking perfect.”

  He pulled out, then rocked his hips, sliding back in and hitting her deeper, harder, filling her up in that perfect way that only Ash could do. She flexed her hips and wrapped a leg around his back, inviting him in deeper, closer, hotter, more.

  It had been a decade since they’d last been together, but her body hadn’t forgotten him.

  And he hadn't forgotten her body.

  How could he? They’d spent an entire summer learning each other, every curve and dip and ridge explored with lips and tongues and fingers, and now it was like no time had passed. He remembered exactly how she liked it, exactly how she most needed to feel him, and out there on the beach under a pale crescent moon, the ocean their only witness, he gave it to her, again and again, until the tide nipped at her feet and the sand crept into her hair and she came, again, harder and faster, shattering with a desperate, wild cry that not even Ash’s frantic kisses could swallow.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Shh!” Pam giggled as Ash tripped over the door frame, the two of them thumping into the dark living room with a crash.

  “Fuck,” Ash whispered.

  “Fuck? Now that would definitely wake her up.” Pam stifled another giggle as she bumped into the edge of the couch, tipping forward as she tried to right herself. Ash grabbed her before she fell, the two of them laughing their asses off. The harder they tried to be quiet, the more they laughed.

  It was just like old times, sneaking back into the darkness after a stolen night on the beach, trying to keep it together long enough for Pam to get back into bed without waking Liz.

  But the light clicked on in the hallway, bathing them in a soft yellow glow.

  Too late.

  “That you, Ash?” Liz said, making her way toward them.

  Pam and Ash shot to opposite ends of the living room faster than lightning, Liz blinking at both of them like she’d just busted the cat eating the canary.

  “Pam?” Liz narrowed her eyes, taking in Pam’s disheveled appearance. Pam was back in her panties and sleep shirt again, but sand coated her legs, and her hair was a tangled mess. “You okay?”

  “Just… I had a nightmare.” Pam’s heart was hammering in her throat, her face hot. A secret was one thing, but lying? She hated lying. Especially to Liz.

  “Were you sleepwalking?” Liz asked.

  “No, I stepped out to get some… air. Ash… Ash came with to make sure I was okay.”

  Pam turned and glanced over her shoulder to see Ash leaning against the sliding door, his hair rumpled, his shorts on backward. He was still holding the wet blanket, and now he hugged it to his chest, feigning indifference.

  Pam held her breath, certain Liz had connected the dots—that she’d go nuclear in about five seconds. But before Pam could jump in with some crazy explanation, Ash calmly said, “Surprised you didn’t hear Deeds screaming. Woke up half the beach.”

  “Must’ve been some nightmare,” Liz said, her eyes trailing down to Pam’s sandy feet. “Work stuff?”

  “I… I don’t remember.” Pam forced a laugh. “Maybe some psycho stock broker chasing after me with an axe?”

  Liz looked her over for another beat, then shook her head, blowing out a breath. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You need to relax, Pam.”

  “I’m trying. It’s hard.”

  “Seriously hard,” Ash said. Pam couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t turn around. The minute she made eye contact, she was certain she’d combust.

  “Stop stressing,” Liz said. “You’ll get everything done. You always do.”

  “We done here, Dr. Phil?” Ash tossed the blanket onto the floor behind a chair. “I need to get some sleep. Some of us have work to
do tomorrow. Hard work.”

  Now, Pam chanced a look, glaring at him with all she had. With Liz behind her and out of view, she mouthed, I’m going to kill you.

  “Hey!” Liz said. “Making out with lifeguards is harder than it looks.”

  “I don’t want to know.” Ash ran a hand through his hair, then pointed at Pam, but all she could think about was how those fingers had been inside her, stroking her, bringing her to the brink…

  “You wake me up like that again, Pamela,” he said, the mischievous look in his eyes making her insides flip, “and I’ll give you something to scream about.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  In the bright light of a new day, Pam read the email on her phone four times, just to be sure she hadn’t misunderstood.

  Miss Diederman:

  To say that I’m disappointed is an understatement.

  My understanding was that you were traveling to the west coast to buckle down and work on something other than your suntan, but I see now that my assumption was false.

  Your thesis question is still flimsy at best, the research you’ve cited is hardly enough to back up your claims, your literature review is lacking… frankly, I’m not even certain you’re on the right track.

  At this point, I expected to see a lot more material from you—polished, well-argued material. This introduction reads like a Wikipedia entry, and your outline is atrocious. I must be blunt with you here: The committee and I have serious doubts as to your ability to complete the program.

  Convince me otherwise, and I’ll convince them.

  You’ve got one week to show me some serious progress.

  — Charles Ferguson, PhD

  No, there was no misunderstanding her advisor’s words. Every last one of them pricked at her insides like sharp, tiny thorns. He was harsh, but right. Shame heated her face. The documents she’d sent over earlier this week were absolutely subpar work, dashed off in haste to buy herself another day off, which she’d spent drinking, boating, and caving in to her most base fantasies. She had no defense. No excuse. No recourse.

  She’d turned in crap, and now she had to deal with the consequences.

  Pam tossed her phone onto the bed and glared at herself in the oval-shaped mirror over the dresser. Her lips were puffy and over-kissed, her hair a mess of matted curls tangled by friction and fingers and saltwater and sweat. Even now, hours after her midnight interlude with Ash, Pam’s nipples were still hard and aching, poking out against the thin white fabric of her sleep shirt, desperate again for his rough, commanding touch.

  I am a hot mess.

  Still, despite the email, despite her dreadful appearance, despite nearly getting busted by Liz last night, Pam could not suppress a smile. Her head spun with memories of Ash… God, it had been so good between them—better than she’d ever remembered, both of them more confident, more demanding, more aware of their bodies and desires. The whole night had been so freaking intense—ten years of longing, of wanting, of buried desires bottled up and suddenly uncorked, flooding through her entire body in a white-hot rush that electrified her nerves and set her skin ablaze.

  She’d hoped that giving in to her fantasies about Ash would satisfy her curiosity and hunger once and for all, but the morning after, standing in front of the mirror and staring at the evidence, Pam knew that her plan had utterly failed.

  It was getting to be a theme with her, and she didn’t like it. It made her feel powerless, ruled by forces beyond her control, leaving her with no more influence on the course of her life than seaweed has on the tides.

  Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  Longing for him.

  “Ash,” she whispered, pressing her fingers to her lips. She could still taste him, still smell the clean, masculine scent of his skin mixed with the tang of saltwater and her own coconut sunblock. The pressure on her lips made her ache for him all over again.

  Pam trailed her hands down over her breasts, nearly crying out from the friction against her nipples. With one hand on her belly, she slipped her fingers inside her panties, gently parting her thighs. One graze against her clit, and already she was slick with need, aching for more of Ash’s touch. His mouth. His everything.

  Closing her eyes, Pam slid her fingers back across her clit, rubbing in slow circles as she remembered Ash’s warm breath on her belly, his fingers and tongue sweeping lower, lower, lower still…

  Oh, fuck…

  She came with a silent shudder in less time than it had taken her brain to serve up that perfect memory. The intensity, however, was short-lived. Her fingers were wet with the evidence of her release, but already her body was returning to its normal state, the afterglow of her self-administered orgasm receding like the tide.

  The way Ash had made her feel last night, the things he’d done to her… that feeling had carried over into her dreams, dark and deliciously naughty. Ash had promised to leave her begging for more, and he’d come through on that deal, again and again and again…

  But that was too damn bad. Her own touch was the only pleasure Pam could allow herself now. Anything else was way too risky.

  She slid her fingers out of her panties and tried to pull herself together, smoothing her hair into a bun and straightening her glasses. Meeting her eyes again in the mirror, she reminded herself of everything that was at stake—of all the promises she’d made to herself. The ones she’d been making year after year, ever since she was a kid and figured out that the only person you could truly rely on was yourself.

  For Pam, relying on herself meant fulfilling her commitments and completing her project, not screwing around with the bad boy who would only break her heart again… not to mention destroy her friendship with Liz. No matter how good the sex had been—no matter how right she’d felt in his arms—it wasn’t worth the inevitable pain. Last night was fun, but now that the sun was up and her glasses were back on, everything looked a whole lot different. Ferguson’s email was more than a wakeup call—it was a warning shot, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.

  Pam’s whole future was on the line here, her grand plan. If she couldn’t make this work, the whole thing would collapse like that sandcastle built too close to the shore, and that was a risk she just wasn’t willing to take.

  Not even for Asher Burke.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ash was seriously fucked.

  After another restless night, he’d just managed to get his perpetual hard-on under control long enough to pour himself a bowl of cereal when Pam came into the kitchen in those tight denim cutoffs and a pink tee, no bra. Her hair was wrapped up in a bun again, but all Ash could think about was how those curls had felt last night in his hands, silky and wild and loose, the sweet scent of her skin making him damn dizzy.

  Like apricots and honey…

  His dick stirred at the memory, a fresh ache pulsing through his balls. He dropped his spoon in the bowl and leaned back in his chair, trying to adjust his shorts before he hurt himself.

  “Morning,” Pam said. Without meeting his eyes, she bee-lined for the coffee pot.

  Ash watched her every move, drinking in the muscular curves of her thighs and calves as she stretched up on tiptoes to reach the cupboard, the long slope of her neck as she bent over to pour the coffee into her mug, even the bright green Post-it stuck to her ass.

  Fuck. He was rock hard again, his eyes roving over all the places his mouth had traveled last night. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but now that he was looking at her again…

  One word, and I’ll bury myself between those creamy thighs… Just say it, Deeds…

  “Where’s Lizzie?” She finally turned to face him again.

  Not the word I was hoping for.

  “Went to find Luke,” Ash said.

  “Already?”

  “Guess she didn't get enough of him yesterday.” Under normal circumstances, Ash might’ve given his sister shit about that, but after last night, circumstances were anything but normal. Now he
was just grateful Liz had split so early, leaving him alone with Pam. “How’d you sleep?”

  Pam leaned back against the counter, both hands wrapped around a huge, chipped mug decorated with pink and yellow daisies—part of a matched set she and Liz had painted during Liz’s sixteenth birthday party. Ash remembered picking them up from the pottery place, teasing them that they hadn't made a mug for him. A week later, he found a box on his bed, all wrapped up in blue paper. There was a mug inside, painted with trees. No card, and they never talked about it, but Ash knew it was from Pam.

  It was one of the few things he’d taken with him when he left California, but somewhere along the way it’d gotten lost.

  Pissed him off.

  “Okay, I guess.” Pam sipped her coffee, hiding behind the rim of the mug.

  “Still thinking about that nightmare?” He flashed a wicked grin, but Pam still wouldn't look at him.

  “Not exactly.” After an awkward beat, she finally said, “I was thinking about what I said last night, Ash.”

  “What a coincidence. Me, too.” Ash rose from his chair and stood directly in front of her, peering down over the edge of her mug. In a whisper, he kindly reminded her of all the things she’d said last night, while she’d shuddered against him in sheer ecstasy. “Right there, Ash. That’s so good. Don’t ever stop touching—”

  “The rules part.” She tried to take a step back, but she was already backed up against the counter, nowhere else to go. “We can’t… we can’t do that again. Ever.”

  The look on her face was like a bucket of ice water poured directly onto his balls, but it was all for show, and Ash could see right through it.

  He put his hands on the counter on either side of her, caging her in. He leaned forward and ran his nose along the curve of her neck, right up to her ear, inhaling her scent. She tried not to shiver, but no dice.