Five Days Until You


April 20, 2015
Series:
Unsure. That’s how I’m feeling about my entire life. Just when everything’s good and I have it all under control, my girl Chelsea decides she’s going to leave me for the summer. Despite my disappointment, I have to support her. It’s what she wants, an opportunity she can’t say no to and no way will I be the one to stop her. I love her too much to hold her back. Opportunities are happening for me too, though. A big one that my brother-in-law Drew says I can’t pass up. I’m working extra hard. So is Chelsea. It’s like we don’t have any time to get together. We keep making the same promise—only five more days until we see each other again. But we keep breaking that promise. Is our relationship strong enough to survive all of these changes?
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Excerpt

“I’m scared to take a shower tonight. There’s sand in some weird places on my body, let me tell you,” Chelsea says as she scoops her hand into the sand and lets it fall from her fingers.

“I’ll help you find all that sand,” I tell her with a leer and she makes a face, grabbing another handful of sand so she can plop it onto my shoulder. I brush it off and lunge for her, causing her to fall backward onto the ground and start laughing almost hysterically when I start tickling her. “Is it here?” I ask, poking at her ribs.

“No.” She shakes her head, her arm darting out to grab more sand and she presses her hand against my chest, letting the sand cover it. “It’s right there.”

It all falls on her so that was a bad move. Deciding to make it worse, I grab another handful and let it drop on her flat stomach, everything inside of me tightening when I see the way she shivers. “Cold,” she murmurs, her laughter dying when I start to brush it away from her stomach, letting my fingers trace little patterns on her skin.

“You’re dirty, Chels,” I tell her, my fingers drifting lower. I can feel her tremble and when my fingers get closer to the top of her bikini bottoms, she sucks in a harsh breath, my name falling in a warning-filled whisper from her lips.

Just then the kids reappear, hopping up and down in excitement, the buckets making a total racket from all the rocks and sticks inside. “We found a lot of stuff,” one of them yells.

I withdraw my hand from Chelsea’s stomach and she sits up, sending me a sly look before she encourages the kids to dump out their buckets and we can get started.

“You’re in big trouble, starting something you can’t finish,” she murmurs as she lines up a row of rocks in front of the castle she built, creating a pathway.

“Ha, I plan on finishing it later tonight, baby. That is a guarantee.”