Summer Sky by Lisa Swallow Read Free Book Online Page B

want."
    "That makes no sense."
    "It doesn't, does it? But nothing in my life makes sense to me.” He moves the fish and chips from his lap onto the sand.
    Excruciatingly slowly, Dylan leans towards me. My heart somersaults and cheerleads in my chest as his mouth approaches mine.
    "So about kissing your sarcastic mouth...?"
    The words are spoken millimetres from my lips and as his mouth moves, his lips touch mine. He's good at this.
    "Yes."
    "Yes, you remember, or yes, you've changed your mind and want me to kiss you?" Dylan rubs his cool nose along my cheek towards my ear.
    "Both. All. Whatever." I'm losing the ability to process words.
    Cupping my chin with his rough fingers, he rubs my cheek with his thumb. My breath comes in such short bursts. I’m convinced I sound like I've run a marathon.
    Dylan replaces his fingers with his mouth, a hesitancy in his kiss I didn't expect. Because he's not sure I want to or he's not sure he wants to? I push my lips against his, tasting the salt and Fanta. Dylan winds a hand into my hair and gently holds my face to his. His lips are firm and warm, softer than I imagined. When he runs his tongue along my bottom lip, the tingle spreads across my face and I'm gone.
    I want Dylan to kiss, touch, whatever he wants. Because with one kiss, he's shot my brain into orbit and left my disintegrating body falling into his arms. I grab Dylan around the neck, steadying myself, and unashamedly kiss him back. Hard.
    Dylan drops his hand from my hair and runs his fingers along my bare arm, adding to the goose bumps from the cold night. A small part of my brain asks why the hell this god of a man wants to kiss average me but who cares? He does. He delves his tongue into my mouth, snatching my breath. With Grant's kisses, I couldn't breathe because he suffocated me with bad positioning, but Dylan takes my breath away with the sheer expertise. I have never been kissed like this. Ever.
    I slide my tongue to meet his and as the intensity of our kiss grows, I relish the burn of his stubbled jaw on my sensitive skin. He makes a low sound in his throat, and the fact I caused this arouses parts of me I've tried desperately to ignore around him.
    Dylan pulls his mouth away, a tiny space that feels like a gulf opens between us, and his breath comes in warm bursts against my face. Shifting his attention to my neck, Dylan plants a row of tiny kisses before he flicks his tongue into a sensitive spot I never knew I had. I curl my fingers into his short hair press myself into him, not wanting this over any time soon.
    With the sound of the sea in the background, and the cool sand beneath my legs, I'm pulled back to my first teenage summer kiss on the beach. Everything is new and forbidden - the excitement and illicitness of what might happen next adding to my arousal. Fourteen-year-old Sky takes control of my thoughts. Will he touch me? Or just kiss me? Where will he touch me? Should I touch him?
    Dylan does touch me. Possibly, because I dive my hands beneath his hoodie first, eagerly scrabbling under his T-shirt to touch the lickable abs I need to inspect. He winces at my cold hands on his heating skin.
    "Sorry," I murmur.
    If I sounded like I'd run a marathon before, I'm pretty sure I sound as if I just finished a triathlon.
    "No problem," he breathes.
    Dylan snakes a hand under my shirt, the sensation of his feather touches on my lower back flicking some kind of switch. Heat streams through my body. To. Every. Part. Of. Me.
    When Dylan slides his hands up my sides, towards my breasts I ache for him to explore. I don't care I'm on the beach. But Dylan pulls away again and rests his head on mine. He sounds as if he's joined me in my marathon, rapid hot breath against my mouth.
    No, no, no. Don't stop. For a heart-aching moment, he doesn't speak and I need to know what he's thinking.
    "Did you have summer crushes when you came here in the past?" he asks, his breath ragged.
    My ability to form a coherent response left