Page 15 of Seven Lost Summers (Broken Oasis #3)

Nate

F

uck,

four

weeks

have

passed since that first jam session in my room, and she’s been in my head ever since.

We’ve played almost every day, and still I haven’t thrown a single pick-up line her way.

Which is insane, considering she’s got a face I can’t stop staring at and a body that turns my brain to static.

That smile hits me square in the fucking chest every time.

And when Bianca’s got that guitar slung over her shoulder, all attitude and rhythm, the game’s already lost. Still, I play it cool. Pretend it’s only music.

But the truth is, my jerk-off sessions in the shower have turned into a daily ritual. Sometimes twice.

Even Theo’s been taking longer, and I know I’m not the only one thinking about her when the water’s running.

Bianca’s not only under my skin. She’s under his too. Got both of us twisted up, and she hasn’t even realized.

I used to fuck without thinking. Now I can’t even glance at another chick without measuring her against Bianca. She’s the girl you want to lose yourself in and forget the rest of the world exists.

Every part of me wants to make a move; fuck, normally I would have by now, but Theo’s the reason I haven’t.

I see the way he eyefucks her when he thinks no one’s paying attention. That isn’t some throwaway glance—it’s carved-in, laser-sharp focus. I’ve never seen him stare at anyone like that before. The way he looks at her, feels new.

Whatever this is building into, she’s in the center of it, and we’re both too far gone to stop.

If she said yes, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d wreck her with him, and still want more.

Theo’s starting to open up with Bianca, more than I’ve seen with anyone. He’s looser around her, cracking jokes, slipping into that laid-back charm that usually takes months to show.

Every time she laughs at something he says, I see the way she gets to him. The way his whole face lights up, like that sound from her is some kind of reward.

Maybe she’s pulling something out of him the rest of us never could.

Today, only Theo and I are home.

The place is too quiet, missing Scarlet’s non-stop mouth.

She’s over at the motorcycle repair shop.

It’s our dad’s place. He’s been running it before any of us existed.

Grease-stained floors, classic rock always playing too loud, tools scattered everywhere.

Scarlet’s always been down in the garage with him, watching from the sidelines, passing tools, wiping grease off her jeans without a second thought.

Theo and I have been chilling in our room waiting for Bianca to show up for our usual jam session. She always shows up around this time, give or take a few minutes, and we’ve both been pretending not to check the clock, counting down the seconds until we hear that knock on the door.

The second we hear the knock, I lift my head and glance at Theo.

He freezes for a moment, shoulders tight, jaw clenched, like his entire body instantly locked up on instinct. He exhales, and something shifts in him. He doesn’t say a word. Simply takes off toward the front door, moving like he’s been holding his breath all fucking day waiting for this.

I stay where I am, keeping still, letting him have the moment. Trying to act like none of this matters. As if my chest isn’t buzzing and my heart isn’t kicking against my ribs simply because she’s here.

But the truth is, I wanted to be the one who got to her first. Opening that door simply to catch that smile meant for me.

I toss the cable I’d been half-heartedly trying to untangle and move across the room, dropping onto the edge of the bed.

Their voices drift down the hall, the conversation easy, and I stay frozen in place, listening.

The second they step into the room, I lift my head.

“Hey,” Bianca says, her voice casual.

Her eyes land on me and hold for a second too long. The heat behind that stare is quiet, but fuck, I can feel it.

She shifts her attention to Theo, her gaze carrying the same weight.

I track the way he shifts on his feet, subtle but telling, like he senses that pull too.

He swallows hard, eyes locked on hers, and for a beat, the air between them tightens.

Whatever passed between me and her is still hanging in the air, but now the tension’s wrapped around him too.

She’s got both of us off balance, and she fucking knows the effect she’s having.

I can’t take this anymore. Every second she holds that stare, the heat slams through my cock, my chest, every part of me that’s been straining too fucking hard to stay in control. I’m done pretending any of this is casual. Done acting like I don’t want her. I’m done holding back.

Fuck it.

My eyes track her as she crosses the room and drops her guitar case on Theo’s bed, the same spot she always claims without thinking.

My eyes drag down her body, settling on that short black skirt that’s been in my fucking dreams more times than I’ll admit. I’ve imagined slipping my hands underneath that skirt, just to see if she’d stop me—or pull me closer.

Doesn’t matter what we’re doing, my head’s gone the second she walks in wearing that. She has no idea what that does to me, or maybe she fucking does.

She turns around and faces us. That heat in her eyes… pure goddamn invitation.

I step toward her.

Her gaze lifts, locking on me as I close the distance.

When I stop in front of her, we’re so close I can feel the heat roll off her skin. Our bodies aren’t touching, but fuck, they could be. One more inch and I’d have her pressed up against me, right where I want her.

Her breath hitches, chest rising enough for me to know she wants it too. I can see it in the way her eyes darken, the way her lips part.

Fuck, I want to touch her. I want to grab her hips, shove that skirt up, and find out if she’s as wet as I’ve imagined every goddamn day since she walked into my life.

But I don’t. I stand frozen, drinking in the way she falls apart from nothing more than the space between us.

Before she can say anything, I grab her face and crash my mouth into hers. There’s no hesitation, no holding back. It’s pure fucking hunger. Weeks of wanting her, of dreaming about her under me, coming out all at once in a kiss that’s rough and messy.

Her lips are soft, but the way she kisses me back is anything but. She’s all tongue and heat, like she wants to tear me apart and swallow the pieces. My hand slides into her hair, tightening, tilting her head so I can kiss her harder. My other hand lands on her hip, fingers digging in.

My cock is rock hard, pressed right into her stomach, and I swear she gasps when she feels it. I don’t let her pull away. I chase that sound, that sharp little breath, like I need it to fucking breathe.

She clutches my shirt, fisting the fabric in both hands like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

I break the kiss briefly, long enough to breathe against her mouth.

“You feel that?” I growl, rocking my hips into her. “That’s what you fucking do to me.”

Her eyes are glassy, pupils blown, lips red and swollen from my kiss.

I don’t move away. Instead, I keep her there, trapped in the heat between us, our bodies pressed so close not even air could slip through. I want her ruined. I want her saying my name with that same breathless voice she was using to moan into my mouth right now.

And fuck, I’m only warming up.

Her gaze shifts. I turn my head in time to catch Theo lowering the amp near her guitar. His jaw’s tight, his movements clipped, too fucking careful, like he’s barely keeping it together.

Without a word, he turns and walks away.

Shame crashes over me, hot and choking. My skin still burns from her touch, my lips still swollen from the kiss I stole.

The taste of her hasn’t even faded, and already, the weight of what I’ve done to him settles deep.

I feel like a fucking dog for doing that, while he walks away from the girl we both want. I know I’ve already fucked it all up.

Bianca brushes past me, the heat of her body dragging against mine for half a second before she moves across the room.

“Theo,” she calls out, her voice sharp, like she already knows what’s about to happen if she lets him go.

He stops. Two steps away from the doorway. Head down, his back stays towards her.

She steps in front of him, her gaze moving over his face and something shifts.

The way she looks at him isn’t the way she looks at anyone else.

There’s a gentleness in her eyes, a steady calm that wraps around him without demanding anything back.

Like she sees past all the noise in his head, past all those walls.

She doesn’t flinch at his silence. Doesn’t try to fill the space with words. She just waits, reading him, steadying him, knowing how to hold him together without touching a single piece.

She doesn’t rush him. Just stands there, waiting, patient in a way she’s never had to be with me.

When he finally looks up, something passes between them, quiet, unspoken, and then she steps in close.

The kiss she gives him is soft as breath.

Barely there at first. Her hand touches his cheek gently, and I swear the whole fucking room slows down.

It’s not heat or fire. It’s something else entirely.

Something that sinks into him, into me, into the silence between us.

She kisses him as if he matters. As if she sees every broken piece and doesn’t flinch.

When she pulls back, her fingers brush his hand, threading through it. She guides him forward gently. It’s so intimate it almost hurts to watch. A moment later, her gaze shifts.

Those eyes hit mine, and it’s fucking different. No softness. Pure heat. Full-blown, fuck-me fire that slams into my chest and knocks the air right out of me.

I watch her walk Theo toward me; her steps slow, steady, almost protective. She stops right in front of me and lifts her eyes to mine and holds. That look alone could drop me to my knees.