42. Corey

Itake in Fallon’s wide eyes and wet shirt before scouring the rest of her, searching for any harm. When I don’t see anything obvious, my heart starts beating again. “Are you okay?”

She nods as her graze crawls over me with her own pursuit. “Are you?”

When her deep blues meet mine, I nod and wrap my hand around hers. I look from Palmer to Mila, Evelyn, and Hadley, and then Callum as he stands as a brick wall to our group. “Let’s go.”

Though everyone is being ushered toward the exit, some are still trying to join the fighting that has spread across the dance floor. We slip into the crowds and outside.

Red and blue police lights reflect off the buildings as we round the corner to my truck, and the quick pattern of running footsteps has Callum and me turning. Grey, Hudson, Nolan, and Lenny usher us forward, all of them breathing hard from sprinting.

“Everyone out?” I ask.

Grey nods. “We couldn’t find Pops, but I’m guessing he left with Aiko.”

An audible sigh passes through our group.

Mila glances across us, pausing on Fallon for a second before she looks over at Grey, assessing for injuries.

“We’re going to have to find a new bar,” Palmer says, stretching his neck.

Nolan chuckles.

Palmer pats my shoulder. “I’ll see you guys at the house.” He continues to Hudson’s Jeep.

With Fallon in the passenger seat of my truck, I can finally breathe. The dome light allows me to rake over her face, torso, and legs again, searching for the hint of an injury. “Are you sure you’re okay? God, that went to hell fast.”

Her gaze dances across my face, and then her fingers ghost across my jaw. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

She brushes her thumb over the same spot. “It’s probably going to bruise.”

The guy who hit me will undoubtedly have black eyes for a week, but I don’t tell her that, focusing on what’s important right now. “Half the soccer players were blitzed. Who knows what kind of mood they’re in. Why don’t you stay with me at Camp, and if you want to go back tomorrow, I’ll drive you.”

I wait to see reluctance creep into Fallon’s expression, for her eyes to shutter her emotions, and for her to remind me of these boundaries we keep trying to maintain. Instead, she nods.

The lights in the truck dim as I shift and head for the beach house.

The others are already gathered in the kitchen when we step inside. Most everyone is sitting around the dining room table, but Lenny’s leaning against the fridge, a bag of frozen vegetables pressed to his bleeding nose. Collectively, it’s the worst injury in our group.

“Everything okay?” Hudson asks, referring to us being late rather than my bruised jaw.

The other guys turn our way with varying looks of concern.

I nod, though, and they relax.

“Do you guys want some hot chocolate?” Hadley asks, stirring a pot on the stovetop. “It’s almost ready.”

I set my hand on Fallon’s shoulder in a sign of solidarity that I hope she feels.

Evelyn offers us a reassuring smile. “Welcome to the chaos, Fallon. We’re not just about messy basement makeovers. We also excel at crazy moments, bad ideas, and failed world record attempts, but we have excellent company, food, and drink.”

Mila grins. “Cheers to that.”

“How’s your shoulder, Fallon?” Hadley asks before turning to the group. “You guys should have seen her check this big dude. She dropped him. She could put you out of a job, Callum.”

Callum snorts, but there’s a smile on his face as he turns to Fallon and nods. “I wish I’d seen it. I was a little preoccupied trying to keep two soccer idiots from getting their asses handed to them.”

Evelyn clears her throat and shoots daggers at him.

“I wasn’t talking about her or the women’s team,” Callum points at Fallon. “Two dudes. They had no idea what they were doing.”

“I’m really sorry about everything that happened. I—” Fallon starts.

Mila shakes her head. “First rule of dealing with assholes—we don’t apologize for them.”

“Amen,” Palmer says, lifting a sports drink in the air with a silent toast.

“Well, if I can’t apologize, I, at the very least, want to thank you. All of you.” Fallon looks across our group.

“Your friends didn’t stick around long.” Grey’s statement triggers my annoyance and has me clenching my jaw, pronouncing the dull ache there. I don’t know why he’s pointing this out and isolating her. We would have stood up for any random stranger in the same situation.

Nolan sniggers. “Hadley got the security tapes. Maybe we can find some good still clips to blow up into posters.”

“You got the security tapes?” Mila turns to look at Hadley with admiration.

Hadley grins. “I can rock orange, but I prefer doing it by choice, not in a sanctioned uniform. Plus, I figured your coaches would lose their minds if someone tried to spin the narrative the wrong way. At least now we have the full picture, including the original altercation and how you guys weren’t the first to throw punches.”

“Fuck studying PR. You should be a lawyer,” Lenny tells her.

“Yeah, because that sounds like the perfect career choice for my fear of public speaking,” Hadley teases as she fills mugs with steaming hot chocolate.

Nolan and Callum help pass the drinks around, and Evelyn plunks a bag of marshmallows and a stack of spoons in the middle of the table.

Mila moves to sit on Grey’s lap, freeing a chair for Callum. Grey wraps his hands around her waist, and it’s as though I can see the endorphins pouring into him as he leans back.

“What about you, Fallon? PR, lawyer, general business? What’s your career poison?” Palmer asks.

“General business,” she says.

Palmer nods.

“How long have you had diabetes?” Hadley asks.

“Since I was ten,” Fallon tells her as she stirs her hot chocolate. “What about your brother?”

“He was fourteen.”

“I hate needles,” Lenny says, grimacing as he shakes his head.

Fallon’s lips tease with a smile. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Do those things hurt?” He points at his own stomach.

Fallon shakes her head. “Not usually. Once in a while, I’ll hit a muscle, and it will sting, but most of the time, I forget about them.”

Lenny shakes his head. “Hell no. They make us take a flu shot once a year, and my arm hurts for a week.”

“It’s not like she has a choice,” Hadley says. She turns to Fallon. “If you need anything, we have a full pantry and juice. You’re welcome to everything here, of course.” She glances at me. “I mean, it might be easier to stay. Pops said you guys only had a beer in the fridge this morning…”

Fallon nods, and the two briefly discuss nuances of the disease that have me scrambling to retain details and understand exactly what it all means.

“Hey. Marshmallow me, Palmer,” Lenny calls.

Palmer grabs a handful of marshmallows that he shoots at Lenny’s bruised nose.

Mila falls into giggles.

“I swear, they’re not always heathens,” Evelyn says.

Fallon shakes her head. “I have three brothers. Trust me, it’s pretty hard to shock me.”

“Three?” Evelyn cries. “I have one and barely survived.”

“You’re the youngest?” Lenny asks Fallon.

She nods.

Lenny whistles. “Corey. It was nice knowing you, my friend.”

I nod. “And they’re local.”

Laughter and jokes break out, and Fallon’s cheeks turn a shade of pink as she steals a look at me. I meet it head-on and grin as I take her hand.

“Welcome to Camp,” Palmer says, leaning back in his chair as he claps his hands together and rubs them. “It’s my honor to initiate you with our quick set of rules. Rule one: what happens at Camp stays at Camp. Rule two: no phones.”

Fallon glances at me. “No phones?”

“This week is all about hanging out and closing off the outside world,” I tell her.

Palmer nods. “Exactly. And rule three: No drama. Technically your team failed this one, not you, so we won’t hold it against you.” He winks.

“I thought there were four rules?” Lenny asks.

Nolan laughs. “I don’t think we need to worry about the fourth rule, considering she’s here with Corey.”

Fallon steals another glance at me, her cheeks hinting at being pink.

“What’s rule four?” Hadley asks.

“That you’re responsible for any guests,” Mila says, politely.

“Of the overnight variety,” Lenny tags on.

Fallon’s cheeks turn a brighter shade of pink, but the others don’t trip over the detail and conversation turns into plans for tomorrow as we drain our cups.

Nolan and Hadley are the first to head upstairs to bed, and the others quickly follow, exhaustion from being out on the water all day finally hitting as the adrenaline from the bar wanes.

“I feel like I’m imposing,” Fallon says as she helps me rinse the cups and load them into the dishwasher.

“You’re not. I want you here.”

She drags her teeth along her bottom lip, and the sight shatters what’s left of my restraint. I slip a hand over her hip, noting how her eyes focus on mine, her breaths turn shallow, and her chin rises slightly.

“Do you want to be here?” I ask, threading my opposite hand into her hair and tracing her jawline with my thumb.

Fallon leans forward and presses her lips to mine.

The mess is forgotten as need thrums through my veins, and a sense of rightness throbs in my chest.

This.

Thisis what I’ve been missing and wanting for so many damn weeks—what I’ve wanted for even longer than I’ve known Fallon. It makes no sense, but somehow, she does, and that’s all the reason I need.

Her lips are sticky with chocolate as I deepen the kiss. She releases a soft moan like she also feels the rightfulness of this moment—of us. And just like that first time we kissed, our mouths and tongues meld and glide in a rhythmic pattern as though we were made for kissing each other and no one else.

Fallon wraps her hand around the back of my neck, urging me closer as she releases another soft moan. I gently glide my thumb along her jaw again, encouraging her to relax and take every goddamn thing I have to offer.

She complies instantly.

I slant my head, kissing her deeper, fuller as I skim my fingers up the length of her spine. She shivers and arches her back, pressing her breasts and hip bones flush against me. Still, I want her closer—want her below me, astride me, drowning in my sheets.

I lose myself—lose time—as our kiss turns desperate, like we’re both worried this is all we’ll have, and we don’t want to leave a damn thing on the table.

“My room’s upstairs,” I say against her lips, not wanting to pull away further. I kiss her again, addicted to the pillowy texture of her mouth.

Fallon nods and then links her fingers with mine. Her hand fits so fucking perfectly in mine, like another puzzle piece sliding into place. She leans to kiss me just as I’m pulling back, sweeping me under like a riptide where I lose sight of the surface, my friends staying here, and everything that’s been keeping us from doing this every damn day.

I run a hand over the swell of her nipple, and Fallon makes a sound that’s something between a sigh and a moan that makes my blood run hot as desire tips into something carnal.

I take a step back, noting her eyes have darkened and her cheeks are flushed before pride swells in my chest at the sight of her swollen lips. I reel her into me as I start moving toward the stairs.

Fallon’s short nails gently bite into the skin between my thumb and forefinger, revealing her nerves just as they had the first time when we were at that crappy hotel.

We pass a series of doors before reaching the main suite at the end of the hall. I leave the lights off, though I want to turn every damn one on so I can see her.

Fallon turns in my arms, removing her insulin pump and setting it on the dresser before grasping the bottom of my shirt and tugging with a harshness that sets us in motion. With fumbling, frenzied movements, we tear at each other’s clothes. Each discarded item is met with a sigh of relief and the trailing of fingers over the newly exposed stretch of skin.

I toss her bathing suit top into a land of forgotten and unnecessariness and run my thumbs over her peaked nipples. Fallon sighs again, arching her back as she had downstairs. I pluck them again, teasing and twisting until her breaths become pants, and she’s clutching me. I give her right nipple a final squeeze and then slip my hand down her ribs and stomach to her bikini bottoms—her last remaining item of clothing. All day, I imagined sliding my hand beneath the thin fabric and finding her wet for me, so when she moves to remove them, I stop her, and rather than lithely and inconspicuously lowering my hand, I crudely pull them out and down, so they hug her hips and ass but reveal her pussy to me. I swipe my fingers across her with a long, purposeful stroke.

Fallon’s head falls back as she moans my name. She’s so wet, so ready, but I want to drag this night out and remind her exactly why we should have been running toward this rather than away from it for too many weeks.

Fallon empties her lungs in one harsh breath and clings to my forearms as I run my fingers over her clit. I slowly circle the sensitive spot, finding the right tempo that has pleasure slamming her eyes shut as she tries to hold it together while I’m focused on having her come undone.

I run the knuckles of my opposite hand over her nipple while pinching her clit, changing the speed and pressure on both sensitive spots until my name becomes her breath and her thighs begin to tremble.

The sight is fucking intoxicating, and I’m drunk on the sound of my name on her lips paired with her arousal that has my fingers practically dripping.

Her grip constricts as an orgasm tears through her. I hold her to my chest as her knees dip, but I don’t relent, milking every fraction of pleasure from her orgasm. Her swimsuit is still bunched below my hand, and watching her reactions to me touching her becomes my new obsession.

I give her a second to catch her breath and then walk her to my bed, where I slip off the last piece of her clothing while she’s still standing.

Prolong it.I remind myself.

Fallon’s eyes glitter with lust as she reaches for my shorts, but I stop her, clasping both her wrists in one hand as I lean in and take her mouth again, slowing things down. She sighs, her tongue languid as she runs it over mine, meeting my unhurried pace. I tip her backward with my lips still sealed over hers, so her back is flush against my mattress, swallowing the gentle laugh she releases.

I sit up to see her smile, reveling in this moment.

Her bright eyes meet mine, and I see—feel—her affection and adoration and something more that seems both foreign and familiar at the same time that sends my heart racing. I race to recognize, label, and file the emotion, but I can’t. I’m not sure it even exists—but I am wholly dependent on this emotion that makes me feel bigger than life itself and eternally fragile.

“Thanks for inviting me,” she whispers.

I kiss her. “I’m going to show you how glad I am that you’re here.” I shift down her body, placing a palm on the inside of either one of her thighs.

Her breath hitches as she leans up, nerves and desire at war in her gaze.

My hands flex on her thighs, spreading her wider. My cock is so damn hard it hurts, and the idea of sinking inside of her is all I can think about as I lean forward and trace my tongue over her seam.

The taste of her has me moaning and spreading her thighs even wider to better feast on her.

Fallon’s fingers scratch across my scalp. I meet her wide, blue eyes that still hold a note of hesitation and nerves that I become intent on ridding.

I suck her clit between my lips, and her hips surge off the bed as her cheeks hollow. I wonder if she can feel my smile as I bury my face in her, consuming the last of her inhibitions as I suck, lick, and devour her until her hands are tangled in my bedding and she’s writhing.

The slight tremble of her thighs tells me she’s close to coming apart again, and I run a finger along her clit before pushing it inside of her while my mouth stays on her.

Fallon makes a garbled sound mixed with my name and a plea for release as she moves her hips in rhythm to my fingers as I curl them inside her, stroking her until she’s panting and every muscle in her body flexes. She covers her face with a pillow as I undo her a second time.

I slow my ministrations, running her wetness over her as I drop kisses along her pulic bone and up her stomach as I toss the pillow aside so I can look at her. I’m hypnotized by the sounds she makes and the way her eyes remain closed after she orgasms, as though savoring every sensation. I’m compelled to do it again and discover all the sensitive parts of her body and each reaction they evoke, but the desperation to be inside her is no longer a desire but a need, something I feel in every cell of my body. I press a kiss between her breasts and watch her eyelashes slowly flutter open.

“I feel like jelly,” she says.

I grin, dropping a trail of kisses up to her collarbone.

“Do you have condoms?” she asks.

“We can stop.” It’s the last thing I want to do, but after the long day, I know she has to be exhausted, and we should probably be discussing what’s about to transpire.

Fallon shakes her head. “I don’t want to stop.”

Thank fuck.