Wet

Elle smiles at me, and it’s a mysterious smile. I can’t tell what’s behind it. I’m then reminded of the time she yelled at me because of what I said about Melanie’s mysterious smile.

“Wow,” Skye says.

Patrick’s brows knit together. “Wow, what?”

Skye nods toward us. “With the energy sparking between them, I would’ve never guessed they were just friends.”

Damn right.

Hippy girl finally got something right.

Elle does the dishes, and I dry, while Ma deals with the leftovers.

“I hear you two are going to a wedding a week from Saturday,” Ma says to Elle.

“Yes, my best friend Stella.”

“So when are you going to marry my Paulie?”

Both Elle and I snap our necks in Ma’s direction. Elle laughs. I’m not sure whether to be offended by that or to join her.

“Is he going to ask me?” Elle says. The way her eyes are dancing, she looks amused.

“He better,” Ma huffs.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Millie, but your son has no interest in marrying me.”

“I have to disagree. Paulie seems quite taken with you.”

What the hell? Thanks, Ma.

“Besides, I’m done with marriage. I think I’m meant to be single. And Paul knows that. He’s still searching for his nice girl who isn’t a handful like me.”

I throw down the dishtowel and pound my fist on the counter.

“Does my presence here count for anything? Why are you two talking like I’m not here?”

Ma continues to ignore me as she replies to Elle, “Well, I’m not giving up hope. Maybe you’ll change your mind in time.”

Elle glances over at me and winks.

What the hell does that that wink mean?

When did she become so mysterious?

“So that was fun,” Elle says when we get in the car to leave.

“Yeah, loads,” I reply with a huff.

“Aww come on.”

“Why is it that I become the butt of everyone’s humor when you’re over?”

“Maybe because you’re so fun to tease.”

“Awesome.”

“Your mom sure got you riled up trying to get you to marry me.”

“And you were no help with that.”

“Why does she want you to marry me so much?”

I roll my eyes with a dramatic flourish. “I have no idea really. It’s especially baffling because you’re so unattractive and unappealing. The grandkids would look like trolls.”

She seems to be fighting back a smile. “Go on.”

“And you don’t get along with anyone thanks to your incredibly sour personality.”

“Yes, I can believe that. I can barely stand to be around myself.”

“See what I mean? Oh, and your desserts suck.”

“Yeah, that explains why you had three helpings.”

I shrug. “Well, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You know how emo you get. Let’s not even talk about that.”

She lets out a long dramatic sigh. “Well, it’s just as well that I’m undesirable to you because I would never marry the likes of you anyway.”

I roll down the car window. It’s getting hot as hell in here.

“And why would you never marry me?”

She gazes out the window. “I’m not telling.”

What the hell? “That’s not playing fair. I told you—why won’t you tell?”

“I don’t think you could take it.”

I pull the car into her driveway and park. We sit in silence for a minute. I tap my fingers on my knee but she’s still not talking.

“Okay, thanks for di

I move quickly to catch her before she can get her key in the door. Reaching over, I press my palm against the lock so she can’t push her key into it.

“Why?” I say in a low voice as I lean into her, my chest against her back.

“Why, what?” She doesn’t turn, just jingles the keys in her hand.

“Why would you never marry me?”

When she turns around and looks at me, I study her expression to try to figure out what she’s thinking. It doesn’t feel like joking anymore.

“You really want to know?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

There’s a long pause as she studies me.

“The thing is, even if I were the type of girl that wanted to get married again, I wouldn’t marry you because I don’t think you’re interested in sex anymore. I know you were once, hell you were obsessed with it, but then something happened to you. I’m not sure what, but what you’re doing just isn’t natural.”

“Really?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest as I step back from her.

She nods. “And I need sex . . . a lot. I need it all the time. I threw myself at you countless times, and despite your low opinion of me, most men think I’m really hot.”

I don’t like where this is going and I squint at her. “Is that so?”

She folds her arms over her chest mimicking me. “Yes, sir, it is. Yet despite that, you didn’t just turn me down, but you turned down that goth girl who was begging you for it, as was that Melanie goddess. Any normal man would have screwed all of us just for the easy sex. But you walked away so easily . . . without a second thought.”

“You think you have me so figured out.”

“Well, what other reasonable conclusion can be made?”

I drop my arms and storm across her porch, but instead of marching down to my car, I turn and walk back toward her.

“You have no idea.”

“Well then, explain it to me.”

My fingers tighten into fists as I turn to pace the porch again. How can I explain anything when my feelings of love and lust for her get so tangled up that I can’t see which way is up anymore?

How do I tell her that at di

We had just finished eating and my sister was going on about something when Elle sat up straight and swept up her hair behind her head.

Something about the way her arms were lifted drew my focus to the curve of her neck and the way her breasts looked so perfect—they were calling out to me to be fondled. I immediately pictured her in this pose again, but under me in bed and naked . . . her hair making waves over the pillow.

As I watched, she let her hair fall back down over her shoulders and reached for her glass—I don’t even think she knew I was looking at her and that just turned me on more. I started to fantasize crazy thoughts of slipping from my chair to under the table, and passing by the sea of legs until I got to hers. I would press my lips to her bare knee and slowly pull her legs apart so I could trail kisses up her i

Shaking my head of the memory, I try to focus back on what I’m going to say to Elle to explain myself. I keep pacing.

On my third stride across the porch she sighs and sits down on the bench. I can’t read the worried look in her eyes. Does she regret that she turned my teasing of her into something so personal for me . . . something I’m not sure I understand enough to explain?

Most of the time she thinks I’m a good man but she has no idea how not good I was back when I spent every free hour hunting for sex. I was such an asshole and I’m scared that fucker is still buried inside of me just waiting for the trigger to inflate my dirty lust again, expanding like a hot air balloon, pushing out all the good that has filled me.

Elle doesn’t understand that she’s the motivation that makes me want to be good; she’s transformed me. Yet I still don’t trust if we get intimate that the darkness won’t prevail.

I run my fingers through my hair and make fists of it, tugging hard. I’m protective of her so it weighs on me that I was an asshole when I played the field. The quest for that surge of euphoria as I got off, ruled me.

Tonight when that idiot Skye started babbling that i