“I think my parents are getting a divorce.” I stare up at the underside of the top bunk in Kyle’s bed, my head resting against the crook of his arm.

“Why do you think that?” Kyle asks, then shoves a handful of chips into his mouth.

“Because my dad cheated on my mom and she’s not in any rush to forgive him.”

He chews slowly. Finally, he swallows and asks, “Do you blame her?”

“No. I guess not. But she’s been at our summer house since she dropped me off here, and now she’s taking off to Paris next week. And she sounded happy on the phone today.”

“And that’s bad?” He offers me the bag of chips.

I grab a few. “Well, yeah. If she’s happier without him, then they’re going to divorce and my entire life is going to change. I’m not even sure how, exactly. I already don’t see my father much as it is.” Will I be taking turns living in their separate houses? Will we keep our house in Lennox or sell it? Oh God, what if they remarry? What kind of stepparents will I end up with?

“If it does happen, you’ll adjust and you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to have to adjust, though. Why are they doing this? Why did my father have to . . .” I don’t want to finish that sentence. Talking about my parents having sex with each other—let alone anyone else—makes me cringe.

“Were they happy?”

I consider that. “I don’t know. My dad’s never home, so . . .”

“Maybe that’s the real issue.”

I sigh. “I think you may be right.”

When I pass on more chips, Kyle tosses the bag to the floor beside us. A few chips spill out, but he doesn’t seem bothered. “When my dad went to jail, I thought my mom would divorce him right away. She keeps saying she will, that we’ll pack up and move far away from the whole mess, but . . . she hasn’t yet.”

“Where would you go, if you could?”

He drags a fingertip along my forearm. “My vote would be Lennox.”

I smile. “Good choice.”

“But she always talks about going somewhere warm, where there’s no snow.”

“That sounds far.” A pang stirs in my chest.

“Don’t worry. We’re not going anywhere.”

I stretch my neck to kiss his jawline. “For what it’s worth, try to convince her to move to Lennox. That way we won’t have to figure out these three-hour drives.” Where will we even stay on those weekends? I guess I can book a hotel for us on my card. What kind of hotels are there in Poughkeepsie?

“I’ll do my best.” He dips his head to capture my mouth with his.

“You’re salty,” I murmur, running my tongue over his lips before flicking the ring.

He groans. “I love it when you do that.”

“What . . . this?” I twirl my tongue around the ring again.

His arm tightens around my body. “Yeah, that. Your tongue on anything, actually,” he says, his voice strained, his breathing turning ragged. I can always tell when Kyle is turned on, just by those two things.

I bite my lip as I feel the flush touch my cheeks. Kyle’s hooded gaze settles on mine as I reach down to run my hand over him once before slipping it beneath the waistband of his shorts and wrapping my fingers around him.

He inhales sharply and then lifts his hips to push his shorts down, before settling back. He presses his lips against my forehead as my hand sets to work, reveling in the feel of his velvety skin and the way he naturally reacts to me.

I did this for Trevor, but I didn’t enjoy it a tenth as much as I enjoy doing it for Kyle now. Though, Trevor was angling for more than my hand every time. He deserved a damn medal for how hard he tried. I always said no and he ended up pouting.

But the idea of my mouth on Kyle—any part of him—stirs my blood.

I pull myself up and onto my elbow.

“What’s wrong?” Kyle asks, his fingers skating over my arm.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just want to try something. Okay?”

He frowns curiously. “Okay.”

I pull my hair over one shoulder and then shift my body and lean down to take him into my mouth.

Kyle hisses.

I smile sheepishly at him. “I’ve never done this before, so—”

“Don’t worry, you’re good. Just keep going. Please,” he begs in a whisper.

Chapter 21

NOW

Kyle’s intense gaze lingers on me as I approach the security desk on Monday morning. We said goodbye last night just before ten P.M., after gorging on pizza and hearing about Jeremy’s recent exploits. Kyle walked me to the taxi and left me with a searing kiss, only to then text me well into the night.

It’s been exactly ten hours and seven minutes since his lips last touched mine, and I’m anxious to feel them on me again. In fact it’s all I can think about.

I’m an addict and Kyle is my drug of choice.

“Hello? You wanted my ID?” the man in front of Kyle says, waving his driver’s license in the air, irritation in his voice.

Kyle clears his throat as he collects it. “Uh . . . yeah, sorry. Who are you here to see again?” His eyes flash to me before refocusing on the visitor, his lips curling in a small smile.

“Good morning, Miss Calloway,” Gus greets, half his attention on the underground parking entrance monitor. “You sure are sparkling this morning.”

“I am?” I glance down to take in my forest-green silk blouse and black pencil skirt. It’s then that I realize I’m grinning like a fool, and I feel my cheeks begin to flush.

Gus reaches across the desk to hit a button. On the monitor, the arm lifts, allowing the car through. “Good weekend, I take it?”

“It was amazing, actually. Best one I’ve had in years,” I say, loud enough for Kyle to hear. Like, thirteen years.

“I’ll bet,” Gus murmurs knowingly.

“And you? How was your weekend?”

He shrugs. “The usual. Grandkids, church, poker. Not at the same time.”

“Sounds relaxing.” I steal another glance at Kyle. He’s busy photocopying the visitor’s ID, and there are two other people waiting behind that guy. I won’t get a chance to talk to him this morning, I realize with disappointment. I definitely won’t get a chance to kiss him.