He invades my thoughts. My dreams. He’s always on my mind, and I want to spend all of my time with him—and I have a lot of free time on my hands. House sitting is not a strenuous job. These people who live here don’t even own pets. They just didn’t want their house looking abandoned and they didn’t want to rent it out to strangers.

So they have me in there instead. The girl who thought she’d spend the entire summer alone reading and trying her best to lose a little weight. Who instead is messing around with the hottest man on the planet every chance she gets. Messing around with him all over their house, though we’re always careful. Well, I’m careful.

I’m also totally into Gabe. Like, way into Gabe.

What’s weird? He seems to feel the same way about me.

It’s been two weeks since that stolen moment in his room when he made me come so hard I thought I saw stars. He’s been in hot pursuit of making me come as many times as possible ever since. And lucky me, he’s done it quite often. To the point where I’ve lost track of exactly how many times he’s given me an orgasm with his fingers and/or talented mouth.

Speaking of his talented mouth, the first time he went down on me I almost couldn’t take the amazing feeling of his tongue licking against my sensitive flesh. I thought I would die. And I wasn’t even close to orgasm—though he did make that happen pretty quickly.

As I mentioned, he’s extremely talented.

And okay, fine I’m a liar. I’ve totally kept count of those orgasms. I’ve had approximately eighteen and a half. The half is added for that one night after nearly getting caught by Sydney when we were making out in his car while parked in his driveway. My hand in the front of his swim trunks, his hand between my legs, Gabe had somehow caught sight of her gradual approach and by the time she was knocking on the driver’s side window, we’d sprung apart, breathing hard but otherwise completely innocent.

My friend isn’t falling for it. She knows what’s up but doesn’t protest or warn me anymore. I’m guessing she figures this is my own problem or hey, maybe I have her unspoken approval.

I like to think it’s the last part.

So back to the orgasms. Let’s do the math with eighteen and a half over a span of fourteen days. That’s a lot of orgasms so far. And I’ve returned the favor as many times as he’s let me. And that’s become my new favorite thing. My fingers wrapped around his thick erection, the lift of his hips just before he comes, the beautiful, agonized expression that crosses his face as he falls over the edge.

I love watching him come. I love the feel of his semen making a mess all over my hand, which I should think is gross, right? But I don’t. Not at all. One time he came all over my naked breasts and that had been all sorts of hot. I’ve finally broken out of my embarrassed mode and given him a few blowjobs. I haven’t given many—okay, none—but he told me my enthusiasm made up for any inexperience I had.

Oh, and the things he says seriously make me want to swoon.

“I love the way you look when you’re on your knees in front of me and my cock is in your mouth,” he’d told me a few nights ago, his husky voice sending a shiver down my spine.

We were sitting on the couch at my house, the TV off, the house quiet and dark when I went down on my knees in front of him. He’d touched my cheek, his fingers drifting across my skin as I pulled him out of my mouth and licked just the head. My gaze never left his and the way he watched me made me bold. I continued licking him, sucking the tip, teasing the flared head with my tongue and the tortured moan that fell from his lips sent a ribbon of satisfaction curling through me. “That you want to do this for me blows my mind, Luce,” he’d choked out.

He’s such a crazy man. Of course, I wanted to do this for him.

I’m this close to letting him do the deed. We’ve done everything else. Everything else. He’s touched me in some shocking places that I found undeniably arousing. He’s let me explore his body just as thoroughly. We’ve definitely turned our initial attraction to each other into an intense summer fling and though I’m trying my best to keep it light and flirty and sexy and dirty, I’m starting to have feelings for him.

Ugh. Big mistake.

But he’s so cute when he laughs and he laughs a lot. He’s such a gentleman, always holding doors open for me and asking my opinion on everything. We can talk about anything, though I don’t go too deep or too personal and for some reason, he respects my unspoken boundaries. He doesn’t go too deep or personal either and I’m fine with that.

Sort of.

There’s something so comforting about the way he rests his hand at the small of my back as we’re walking. It’s like this protective gesture that makes me feel so taken care of.

I love it.

I shouldn’t. But I do.

We’ve been having such a good time, full of lazy summer days and long, intense nights wrapped up in each other, I hadn’t been paying much attention to the calendar and I know the days are just flying by. I should’ve been paying attention though because Gabe took my hand last night, kissed the top of it and announced, “We’re leaving in two days.”

Two. Days. My mouth had dropped open in shock. “Wh-where are you going?”

He made a face. “Back to Texas. That’s where I’m from originally. That’s where my parents still live. I’ll hang out at the family homestead for the rest of the time until school starts back up.”

The family homestead. He made it sound so quaint and cute. So country and Texas-like. I bet it’s a sprawling mansion that makes my little house look like a closet. And why don’t any of these Walkers have southern accents? I swear they’re so rich they won’t let accents affect their speech. “Oh.” I nodded. “That sounds nice.”

I’d lied. It sounded horrible because it meant that Gabe wouldn’t be with me anymore. And I didn’t like that. At all.

“So we’ll need to make the most of these last two days.” He’d gathered both of my hands in his and pulled me closer. I’d gone reluctantly because I felt pouty and sad. “I want to take you to dinner tomorrow night,” he’d murmured close to my ear.

We went out but not much. We’d gone to see a movie—which ended in us sitting in the back row making out and groping each other. A few casual dinners, a few nights out back at that frozen yogurt place because he loves it so much. But the way he said he wanted to take me to dinner, it sounded serious.

Like fancy, expensive restaurant serious.

“Where?” I’d asked.

“I need to figure that out first,” he’d admitted with a soft chuckle. “Let me get back to you on that.”

He’d texted me the name of the restaurant this morning along with the time he’d made our reservation for and I looked the place up. Talk about fancy…

Mama called a lot too, wondering what I was up to, why I rarely talked to her for any length of time. I’d told her I made friends—true—and that I was having a great time—also very true. And I was definitely being a good girl when she asked because yes, she really asked me that.

That was the one lie I told my mother. I wasn’t being a good girl. I was a total sinner in Mama’s eyes. But oh, it felt good sinning with Gabe on a regular basis.