Page 12 of Best In Class (Savannah's Best #7)

Luna

“ S top it.” Rose smacks the back of my head.

“What?” I ask innocently.

“Using my fuck buddy to make Dom jealous,” she retorts.

I’ve known Rose for years, just as I’ve known Stella and Gabe.

Rose Dixon is the coolest. She turned away from her family business, as I did, and started her own ( now ) successful real estate company.

Like her, I invested in a business, Savannah Lace.

So, we’re two similar women in Savannah society, which inevitably makes us friends.

We’re not close, but we know about each other’s lives.

Rose is gorgeous. Blonde with luscious hair. Beautiful. Slender. Feminine. And Oh, so Southern.

“I’m not doing that,” I say belligerently.

“That dog won’t hunt,” Rose insists and glares at Devon. “And shame on you.”

“I don’t mind kissing a beautiful woman,” he says as he lies down on his lounger, puts his straw hat on his face. “I’ll kiss you anytime of any day, Luna.”

“She’s taken.” Rose whacks him on his thigh.

“Ouch, woman! What’s with all the physical violence? It’s one thing to know you use a whip in bed, but we’re not?—”

“Shut it,” Rose snaps.

Devon chuckles and relaxes.

These two have the weirdest non-relationship. They’re good friends who fuck, and genuinely do not get jealous when either of them is with someone else.

I can’t share like that.

My eyes fall on Dom, who’s talking to Lev.

He’s in a linen shirt and linen pants. He looks like he just stepped out of the GQ edition of Summer Man.

“I heard that you both made out at that charity thing.” Rose settles into a lounger next to me, arranging her swimsuit so her boobs are mostly covered.

“It was just a kiss.” I tuck my knees to my chest and rest my cheek against them.

Stella strolls toward us. “It was hot and heavy,” she announces.

“And then she bolted like the hounds of hell were on her heels,” Nova calls out from two loungers over, clearly incapable of minding her own damn business.

I swallow against the lump in my throat. “He said he didn’t cheat on me and that he hasn’t been with anyone for two years. ”

“Well, Dom isn’t a manwhore like Devon.” Rose sits up a little and waves a hand to get a server’s attention.

“I’m not a manwhore,” Devon complains, hat still covering his face.

A server shows up and we all order drinks.

A party at Aurora and Gabe’s is all about eating, drinking, and relaxing. They keep it informal…or as informal as you can get with a world-class chef cooking the food and servers making sure everyone’s drink is topped off.

“What’s the problem between Dom and you?” Rose asks after our drinks arrive.

“He cheated on her,” Stella informs her.

“Stella, not tellin’ the world about this.”

They all ignore me.

Rose’s eyebrows rise. “When?”

“Ah…a decade or so ago.” Stella picks up her mojito and takes a small sip.

“And you’re still pissed off about it?” Rose asks, confused.

“Yes,” I quip. “Integrity is important.”

“I never cheat,” Devon chimes in.

“You’re never monogamous,” Rose retorts.

“ Exactly ,” he retorts triumphantly. “That’s why I never cheat.”

Rose rolls her eyes and mutters, “Men.”

I glance over at Dom again. He’s deep in conversation with Lev, running a hand through his hair, that stupid half-smile tugging at his mouth—the one that makes something in me ache with wanting .

I hate that smile.

I hate that I still want to kiss it off his face.

“I need to walk,” I mumble and stand.

“Try not to fall in love,” Nova calls after me.

“Or the pool,” Rose warns.

I flip them all off without turning around.

I go for a stroll by the river, and when I come back, Dom’s standing by the edge of the pool now, barefoot, drink in hand, talking to Raphael and Lev.

His shirt is now unbuttoned. What the fuck? Why would he do that? Probably thinking of getting into the pool in swim trunks.

Oh boy!

I remind myself to breathe like a regular person.

He turns and spots me. His smile fades into something softer.

Mine .

“Hey,” he says, stepping toward me, leaving Raphael and Lev. “You look like you want to throw someone in the pool. Should I be worried?”

I cross my arms. “Maybe. Depends on how smug you plan on being.”

He chuckles. “I was aiming for just smug enough.”

There’s a beat of silence—not quite a high-noon standoff, but just awkward enough to make me wish I had a drink so I had something to do with my hands instead of wondering how his abs felt.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Moonbeam.”

I swallow. Six pack? Lord !

“Is it because we kissed or because you kissed me ?”

Asshole! He always knows how to get to the core of everything.

“Wasn’t just you, baby, I wanted it just as much, even more,” he murmurs.

I stare at the pool. “Can we not….”

“Can we not what?”

“Just stop talking about it,” I grind out, my hands rolling into fists.

“You want to push me in?” He leans in with that cocky tilt of his head. “Would that help?”

I narrow my eyes. Did I hear him right?

“ What ?”

“You want to push me into the pool?”

I look at him slack jawed. He was always playful. We were. I was. I used to be.

“I really want to,” I admit.

“Then go for it, Moonbeam.”

That’s all the permission I need.

I shove him. Hard .

He stumbles back, arms flailing, and crashes into the water with a spectacular splash.

I’m still laughing when he resurfaces, water streaming down the planes of his chest.

His hair’s slicked back now—thick, soft, dark curls pulled tight and shining, still holding their shape even wet.

His hair defies gravity when dry, coiled and dense, but right now it clings to his scalp in neat waves, drawing attention to the smooth line of his hairline and the strength in his brow .

Droplets hang from the tips of his lashes and his skin, a warm bronze-brown has undertones kissed by the sun, glistens like polished mahogany.

He blinks slowly, calm and centered, like someone who knows exactly how good he looks stepping out of the water.

“Feeling better,” he says, voice deep and mellow, and that half-smile tells me he’s already guessed I’ve been watching.

“Yep,” I say smugly.

Then his hands shoot out and grab my ankles.

“Dom—don’t you dare— Dom !”

Too late.

He yanks, and I squeal, tumbling forward into the water very inelegantly.

We surface at the same time, sputtering and splashing. Everyone is laughing.

Devon raises his mojito in salute.

Stella’s filming.

Nova’s screaming, “ Kiss her !”

Seriously?

“I’m too drunk to drive you to the ER,” Lev warns.

Dom swims closer, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Still mad?”

“Always.”

“Still friends?”

I hesitate. “Maybe.”

“Progress.” Water drips from his lashes.

I don’t know what happens next—maybe it’s the way the sun catches the water, or how his hand grazes mine, or how his smile feels like home—but for once, I don’t get that familiar, knee-jerk urge to pull away.

I stay.

I move closer.

I lean into him .

Then, slowly, I place my lips on his.

It’s me taking what’s mine. I’m taking him…for a moment.

“ God , Moonbeam .” He groans and dives into the kiss.

It’s wet.

It’s salacious.

It’s hot.

It’s tongue and teeth.

It’s us .

Not quite forgiveness.

But it’s… something .

“I want you,” he says. “I want to taste you. I want inside you. Damn it, Luna. I want it all.”

I pull away, wide-eyed.

I’m scared.

Someone’s whistling.

Someone else is clapping.

A cheer breaks out.

And then I hear Lev—unmistakably loud, warn, “That’s my sister, for everything holy!”

I swim away from Dom.

Away.

Away.

Away .

Even though I want to be with him.

I’m afraid.

I refuse to be my mother. I won’t be the woman who loves more than she’s loved in return. I won’t stay with someone who could betray me, who did betray me.

Churchill said, “Fear is a reaction. Courage is a decision.”

I’m out of courage.