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I can’t argue, because it’s true. I’ve always been a breakfast girly. I’ll always be a breakfast girly.

Still, I thought he was going to—you know—again.

Maybe tonight.

30

DON’T STOP LOVING ME

JUNE 2009 – 17 YEARS OLD

Holt drops his backpack to the ground beside the boulder that sits half in and half out of the water. Rubble Lake, a fair trek off Mount-U Road, is a massive body of water in the shape of a horseshoe.

When Holt first brought me up Mount-U Road to Rubble Lake, he brought me to the other side. We’d ridden our bikes up the mountain road then, so maybe that’s why he didn’t bring me here. This is by far, a better view. Even if we had to hike for an hour to get here.

Holt explained the land isn’t a part of Blue Valley Estates, but it’s currently privately owned and for sale.

“I can’t believe no one has snatched this land up.”

“Dad says raw land is harder for people to buy. This land, being that it’s on a protected lake, also has a lot of restrictions that would need to be adhered to when it comes time to build.”

Holt drops to the rock, and I kick out of my shoes to walk into the still water of the clear blue lake. Tipping my head back, I close my eyes and bask in the warmth of the high sun on my face as the cool water seeps beyond my skin and into my bones. It’s a delicious feeling.

A little moan slips from between my lips and when I open my eyes, I find Holt watching me with a hunger that instantly sparks something similar within me.

His voice is rough, like the range of the very mountains that surround us. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

His eyes drop to my smile, and I start to walk through the water closer to him. Lifting my dress, I slide one knee onto the rock on one side of him, and then the other.

Holt’s hands come to my hips, and he pulls me closer, tipping his head back when I lower mine to claim a kiss. Holt takes over quickly with a big hand in my hair. The way we move together is familiar and comfortable and always, always hungry.

I don’t even know how many times I’ve been with Holt since that first time. I just know that my body has never stopped craving his. I don’t think it ever will.

His tongue lashes against mine before he kisses a path down my throat. His fingers tug at the straps of my dress, baring my breasts. I cry out when he sucks one into his mouth and then the other, my hands sinking into his hair as I grind myself over the hardness of his arousal.

“I want you,” I moan.

Holt curses. “I don’t have anything with me, Faye.”

“I don’t care.”

“Faye,” Holt groans my name. But I know he’s close to breaking.

“I’m on the pill.” I meet his eyes with my own. The espresso is so dark, his pupils so blown with want they nearly flood out the color. “I want to feel you. Only you, Holt.”

His fingers curl in my hair and he pulls my mouth to his, kissing me with a roughness that is new. I love it.

I want more of it. More of him.

I want everything.

Holt doesn’t ask me if I’m sure. His hands fumble with his shorts and then I feel his fingers push my panties to the side—then I feel him.

We moan together as he enters me in one quick thrust. His fingers dip into my hips as he pulls me even closer, grinding deeper.

“Fuck, Faye.” The words fall broken between us. “You feel so good like this. So hot and wet.”

His words do something to me, because before I know it, I’m riding him. His hands are on my ass, my waist, my breasts and in my hair. He kisses my lips, my chin and jaw, my breasts. I pull back and sink onto him over and over again, deeper and deeper.