Page 54 of Things I Wish I Said

She pauses to cough in her hand, then inhales, gulping in air like a jagged pill.

“Summer vacations, dances, dating and partying with friends, truth or dare by a campfire.” She nudges my shoulder. “Nights spent watching sunsets, mornings watching the sunrise. ”

“You could have that now,” I say, ignoring my earlier restraint. “Maybe not in high school, but there could still be college. Tens of years of experiences waiting to be lived.”

“You think so?” she asks, her voice soft—unconvinced.

“Yeah, Sinclair, I do,” I say, daring to hope.

“My grandparents on my dad’s side actually have a cottage in the Hamptons.

It’s why I asked about it. We used to go there every July and stay for two weeks.

It might not have a sunset like this, but the beaches are beautiful and pristine.

Quiet, with a killer sunrise. Going there was the only time I ever missed baseball, that’s how much I loved it.

We didn’t go last year because it was only a couple months after my dad died, and this year, well . . .”

I glance away from her for a moment, thinking of how different I’ve been this year, how lost. Until Ryleigh.

“But maybe you could go with me? Maybe even over winter break,” I’m quick to add.

“You can’t swim; it’ll be too cold, but it’s still beautiful.

And then we could go back in the summer.

Compare sunsets and eat lobster rolls until we burst.” I reach out and find her hand, give it a squeeze. “What do you say?”

An unreadable expression creases the otherwise smooth lines of her face.

My back stiffens, waiting for the response I know is about to come—that she might not be here. That she can’t plan a future she doesn’t know she has.

But it doesn’t.

Instead, she studies me a little longer, her hazel eyes brightening all the dark parts of me, and then says, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

I sit in the back of the Uber with my arm around Ryleigh, watching her sleep. Sand and salt cling to her sandals and long legs. The tops of her cheeks and nose are flushed with color from the sun. Her head rests against me, an unsettling rattle in her lungs as she exhales.

I grip her tighter, only comforted by the soft rise and fall of her chest because it’s a reminder she’s still with me, she’s still breathing, even if her lungs are working overtime.

Besides, unless I’m reading too far into what she said back at the beach, she’s opening up to the possibility of the experimental trial.

My heart swells inside my chest at the thought, almost afraid to hope.

I place a soft kiss on the top of her head as the driver pulls up to the front of the hotel, smiling when she stirs and glances sleepily up at me, making my pulse skip.

“We’re here already?” she asks, rubbing her tired eyes.

A soft chuckle vibrates in the back of my throat. “Yeah, sleepyhead, we’re here.”

“Sorry.” She offers me a sheepish smile I want to erase.

“It was a long day. Don’t be sorry.” I squeeze her hand before helping her out of the car, then head up to our room where I hop in the shower while she finds a movie for us.

I hurry, scrubbing up and washing away the sweat and sand before I brush my teeth and let her use the bathroom. I scroll through my phone to pass the time, completely unaware when the bathroom door opens, until I hear a throat clear.

“Hey, did you decide on a . . .” My words trail off as I glance up at her in nothing but a bath towel.

Droplets of water cling to her skin, sliding to the hollow of her neck where she grips the towel just above her breasts. Her face is free of makeup, her skin glowing from the hot water, cheeks pink. She’s every bit as gorgeous as she was before she showered it all off, maybe more.

My gaze settles on her wig, wondering why she’s still wearing it considering every other night she wore only a silk scarf.

I swallow over the butterflies wreaking havoc in my chest as I meet her glittering gaze. The hand holding the towel together at her breasts drops and it unravels.

The air rushes from my lungs. Lust and longing hit me every bit as hard as a sucker punch—demanding and insistent and stealing my breath.

I try and keep my gaze from wandering farther south, but it’s a battle I quickly lose. I drink in her smooth skin, the soft curve of her hips, and the full swell of her breasts.

She’s fucking perfect, everything about her.

An involuntary groan leaves my lips as I snap my eyes closed, willing my hormones to settle the fuck down when I feel the bed dip beside me.

My breathing turns shallow as I risk a peek just as Ryleigh straddles me .

The ferocious pounding of my heart increases with the rapid pace of my breath. “Sinclair, wh-what are you doing?”

She trails her hands down my chest, sliding beneath my T-shirt, nails raking over my abs, my pecs.

I hiss, biting back a curse.

“What does it look like?” she whispers.

A sly grin slides over her features, and it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to press her into the mattress. “Do you always sleep in so much clothing?” she asks, eyeing my T-shirt and shorts.

I shake my head. I can’t talk for fear of what might come out of my mouth. Because this is Sinclair. As strong as she is, she’s still vulnerable.

And I’m almost certain she’s a virgin, and I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to take her first time on a whim unless I know it means something to her because it sure as hell would mean something to me.

“Take it off,” she commands, lifting the hem of my shirt.

I hesitate, then grab the neck at the back of my head and pull it off in one sharp, clean movement.

She hums in approval, her eyes brightening like molten bronze, raking over me as her fingers slide over the grooves of muscle, shifting to the inside of my bicep where she traces my tattoo.

My hands grip her hips, trying to restrain her movement, but all it does is turn me on more .

“Are you going to touch me or what?” she whispers, sliding her mouth to my neck.

“Maybe we should slow down and talk?” I croak, my dick jerking in protest.

My heart applauds my restraint while my body demands attention.

Ryleigh chuckles darkly. “Your friend, here, says it would like to do more than talk.” She bucks her hips while I bite back another groan. “And you didn’t have a problem feeling me up on the Ferris wheel.”

“You weren’t naked on the Ferris wheel.”

Her hands move south, toying with the waistband of my shorts. I still them with my own, my breath coming out in short, angry puffs.

What the fuck is happening to me?

I’m losing my mind, that’s what.

I’ve never been so affected by someone’s touch, not even Rachel in the three years we were together.

“Do you not like me naked?” she asks, kissing her way down my chest.

“Of course I do,” I say between clenched teeth. “It’s taking every ounce of fucking willpower I have not to flip you on your back and show you how much.”

Hazel eyes peek up at me. “Then. Do. It.”

My willpower snaps .

One second, she’s straddling me and the next, I have her arms pinned above her head, my weight pressing her into the mattress.

She arches her back, angling her hips toward me, and I bite back a groan.

I find her mouth first, kissing her dizzy. Until her lips are swollen and red.

I move to her collarbone next, biting and kissing and sucking as I release one arm and cup her breast, pleased at the breathy moan that escapes her parted lips.

Her free hand dips below the waistband of my shorts, gripping my length in her hand. I grunt, pleasure rippling through me as I resist the urge to thrust.

Bracing my weight on both of my arms, I meet her gaze. “Ry, we don’t need to—”

My words cut off when she pumps her hand up and down, and I hiss.

“Don’t need to what?” she asks while I try and fight everything inside of me that’s screaming to take her. Right here. Right now.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for,” I say.

She pushes my shorts down.

“I don’t expect . . .” My vision blurs, and I forget all thought as she arches against me—flesh against flesh, all soft and warm and mine for the taking .

I crush my mouth to hers, kissing her hard—until we’re both breathless, until she forgets what she’s doing with her hands, and I reclaim my restraint.

When I break contact, I drop my lips to the shell of her ear and whisper, “I can still make you feel good, even if we don’t . . .”

She shakes her head, causing my lips to brush her ear. Goose bumps break out over her skin, and I trail a hand up the plain of her flat stomach to the slope of her breast, warming a path in my wake.

“No. I want this. I want you, and I don’t want this to be one-sided. Not again. I want you to feel good, too.”

Fuck. Why did she have to say that? I meet her eyes, watching as her resolve strengthens and mine slips.

Maybe I’ve only known Sinclair a short while, but I know she’s a straight shooter.

She’s not a bullshitter or one of those girls that tells a guy what they think he wants to hear.

She’s not afraid to speak her mind or say no, and she’s not one to cave under pressure.

Ryleigh does what Ryleigh wants, and if she’s saying she wants me—wants this—then I believe her.

She runs her hands up my bare back, and I close my eyes, my nerve endings coming alive under her touch.

“Remember what you said back at the beach? About still getting to have all the experiences I missed out on?”

I nod, then swallow.

“I want that. And I want it with you. Right here. Right now.”

I blink my eyes open; breathe .

“Unless you don’t . . .” She trails off, a crease in her brow and a flicker of uncertainty in her tiger eyes that I rarely see.

A dry laugh escapes my parted lips. “Oh, I want to. Trust me.” As if to emphasize this point, I thrust into her now loosened grip.

Ryleigh grunts. “Then what are you waiting for?”

I reach up, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone.

“If we do this, I’m not walking away. I won’t be able to, and I wouldn’t want to even if I could.

” I search her eyes for understanding. “If we do this, you’re mine.

I know I’m leaving for school soon, but we’ll figure it out.

Because when we get home, there’s no more pretending.

No more wish. As of this moment, right now, neither of us are single anymore and whatever lies ahead, we face together.

As a couple.” I swallow, knowing what that could mean, but also knowing it might break me entirely if things don’t work out the way I want them to, if Ryleigh . . .

I can’t say it. Can’t even think it.

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Slugger?” Ry flashes me a sly smile.

I brush a lock of hair from her face. “I guess I am.”

She bites her lower lip, her hazel eyes clouded with emotion. “You remember the offer you made me?”

To pay for the trial.

I nod, my spine stiff as I say, “It still stands.”

“I might take you up on it.” She blushes, her cheeks and chest flushing pink as she quickly adds, “Or maybe I’ll find another way, but I—"

I cut her off with a kiss.

Hope fills my chest like an eagle, spreading its wings, filling all the empty spaces inside of me as I pull back once more, needing to look into her eyes when I say, “Anything you want, Sinclair, it’s yours.

But in return, I want all of you. Not just the parts you’re willing to give right now.

I want the good, the bad, and the ugly. I want you just as you are. ”

Her throat bobs, and for a moment, I think she’ll say no.

If she does, I’ll climb off her and go to sleep or I’ll make her feel good first—whatever she wants—but I can’t be with her unless she agrees.

“Okay,” she breathes.

“Then you need to take everything off.”

Her mouth twitches. “I might be new at this, but I kind of figured out that part already.”

I stare down at her, my expression unwavering as my gaze flickers to her wig and her smile fades. “Everything, Ry.” I tug a lock of the hair she wears to hide her illness from the world. “I want all of you or none of you. There’s no hiding from me.”