The Seacrest by Aaron Lazar Page B

lips, fingers running through my shaggy hair.
    I didn’t open my eyes. “I hope that’s you, Sierra McCoun.”
    Sassy slapped my arm and squealed. “Oh, you are such a tease! Sierra’s a horrible bitch.”
    I slowly opened my eyes and smiled. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”
    She bounced to her feet and pulled me up after her. “Oh, good. A blanket. I’m kind of cold.”
    I checked the time. “Whoa. It’s past eleven.”
    “I know. I had to wait ‘til I heard Aunt Shirley snoring. She’s home again, but her room is next door to mine. Dad fell asleep around nine-thirty. But taking care of my aunt is tiring us both out. We’re thinking of hiring a nurse.”
    “Really?” I was surprised her family could afford such a thing. “That’d be great.”
    She hugged close to me and we pulled the blanket over us. “I’m so glad you waited for me, Finn. Let’s go to the cove.”
    My heartbeat quickened. The cove. With Sassy. “Okay.” No argument there.
    We hurried to the shelter of the cliffs, seeking protection from the wind that pelted sand against our bare legs and roared along the ocean. We both wore shorts and it was a relief when we rounded the bend and plopped onto the blanket on the sand.
    “Are you still cold?” I said.
    She nodded, shivering a little. “I was going to bring a sweatshirt, but it seemed too nice out. It’s colder here on the shore.”
    “I know. Me, too.” I settled beside her and opened my arms.
    She scurried into them, laying her head against my chest. “You’re warm.”
    “Ninety-eight point six,” I said.
    She laughed, and I felt her chest gently move against mine. Her long dark hair spilled in silky waves over her shoulders and onto my chest. I ran my hands through it, savoring the luxurious feel of it.
    “Sassy?” I said.
    She scooted up on me until our faces were an inch apart. “Yes?”
    “I’m nuts about you. You know that.”
    She smiled. “I know. You’ve only told me about a thousand times.”
    “Do you love me?” I asked.
    She pouted. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
    “I’m serious. Really. Sometimes I think you don’t love me as much as I love you. You know everything about me. Everything. I know practically nothing about you. I want to know more.”
    She sat up and let her hair play across my face, then unbuttoned my shirt and ran her hands along my chest. “I do believe the feeling’s mutual,” she said. Then, with a grin, she added, “that means I love you, too.”
    I huffed. “I know what mutual feelings are, what do you think I am, a moron?”
    She leaned down and kissed me. “Sometimes. Like now. When we’re here, alone. And you’re talking.”
    I realized she was right. I was acting like a fool, talking about who loved whom more. I have a live, gorgeous, affectionate girl in my arms and I’m obsessing over where she lives and what her family name is. I’m such a dunce.
    She kissed me again, deeper now, and she moved astride me. “But that’s what I love about you, Finn. You’re a romantic. It’s not all about you getting in my pants.”
    “Don’t think the idea hasn’t crossed my mind,” I muttered against her neck.
    She chuckled, kissing my forehead, cheek, neck, and then my chest.
    That’s when all words left me. My arms pulled her tight and I rolled her over, smothering her with kisses. Face, lips, neck. I reached one hand up and tentatively touched her breasts, feeling the rising bump of her hardening nipples. She helped me, taking my hands and bringing them under her shirt to find bare skin, no bra.
    “Oh my God, Sassy,” I moaned, feeling as if I were instantly in Heaven. Her skin felt creamy and silky under my fingertips. I gently ran my hands over her breasts, cupping and kissing them over and over again. I moaned again, surprised by my intense need. “You’re so beautiful. So soft.”
    “Slow down, soldier.” She laughed with a surprisingly husky tone, enticing me even more. “There’s no