Page 94 of Best Wrong Thing

“Only for me to wobble about it.”

“Are you done wobbling?”

I blow out a slow breath. “I think so.”

“You bring out the best in me, Archer. I want to be with you. I love you. Let’s stop hiding.”

“Okay.”

We wrap our arms around each other and kiss, our tongues tangling. A ball of emotion twists and turns in my chest. Love, fear, and excitement all mixed into something overwhelming. I press against Jacob. He holds me tight, grounding me, making me feel like we can overcome whatever gets thrown at us. He tips us onto our sides. The sand tickles and itches my arm, but I don’t care. I can’t get enough of kissing Jacob. He makes me feel safeand wanted. So what if I’m only twenty-one? I’m old enough to know who and what I want, and I want Jacob.

“I love you,” I whisper against his lips. “But can we get off the sand?”

He laughs, pulls me to my feet, and leads me along the beach until we find some sunbeds. They probably belong to one of the hotels lining the beach, but who cares? It’s not like there’s any competition for them at stupid o’clock in the morning. We lie on one together. Jacob rests his head on my chest. I stroke his hair, and he lifts my T-shirt and brushes his fingers over my side.

“We’ll have to go back to the villa before it gets light,” Jacob says.

“Will we? Can’t we stay here?”

“Our parents will worry.”

“Nah. Mum will think we hooked up and spent the night with guys in hotel rooms.”

“I wish we could. That came out wrong.”

I laugh. “What did you mean to say?”

He looks up at me. “I wish we could spend the night in a hotel room. You and me. I want to make love.”

I sigh. “Me too.”

He lays his head on my chest again. “Archer?—”

“Yeah?”

“When we get home, will you make love to me?”

“Me topping you?”

“Yes.”

My breath hitches. “You want that?”

“Yes.”

“I’d love to. When are we going home again?”

“Not soon enough.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” I flop one arm against my forehead and stare at the sky.

Dark wisps of clouds drift over the bright full moon. It’s cooler than during the day but warm enough to be out here in a sleeveless top and shorts. My eyelids are heavy. I press my lips together to stifle a yawn.

“Who do you want to tell first?” I ask.

“Dad and Molly are here.”

“You don’t want to wait until we get home?”