[COMPLETE]
When Hanna Haddad embarks on what's supposed to be another uneventful summer as a lifeguard on Cape Cod, a trip to the past comes as an unnerving surprise. The discovery of her estranged mother's journal opens up the world of tragedy and...
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"Good morning, beautiful."
Jesse hovered above me on the mattress, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. My eyes burned as they adjusted to the light of the room, too blinding for so early in the morning.
It wasn't actually morning.
"Did I really sleep 'til now?" I sat up and fished for my phone, hidden somewhere in the white bedsheets. It was half-past noon, one of the first few lazy weekends I'd had in months. "You should have woken me up earlier."
"Why would I?" He collapsed down next to me, pulling me into his naked chest. His lips found my tangled hair and pressed a kiss to my temple. "It's your spring break."
I said nothing and let him drag that kiss down my body. He brought me under him again, fingers roaming underneath my thin cotton shorts. They were ice cold against my warm skin, setting my most sensitive of areas on fire in the perfect paradox. His mouth closed over mine, not caring that I had just woken up. I pulled away and arched my neck, liking kisses there better, anyway.
"I could wake up to this every day." He groaned at the moan I tried to hide as his teeth left a love bite on the skin above my clavicle. "Just me and you, on a beach in France, preferably with no clothes."
"Well, that won't last for long," I grumbled, pushing his hand away from the waistband of my shorts. I couldn't control my laugh when his hands found their way to my stomach. Too sensitive. "Remember? My mom and your dad are coming to visit later today. And I go back to England next weekend."
"Fuck England," he said over my lips. "Fuck me, instead."
I smiled, but it faded as quickly as it graced my lips. He knew not to press me further for sex, because it was only good when we both wanted it.
There was no way I could want it on a day like this.
Jesse nestled his head into the crook of my neck. "What's wrong, baby?"
"It's my dad's birthday today," I said, staring lifelessly out the small window. "How fucking depressing is it that he never even made it to forty-five?"
