I’ll try nearly any position. I’ll break out toys, props, and loads of dirty talk.

I’ll give the woman what she wants.

And if the woman wants public sex, sure, that can be arranged, short of an arrestable offense.

I just never put a paddleboat on the list of places I’d want to try.

But then, I never expected Summer to initiate paddleboat sex.

Here she is with her knees spread and her dress riding up, grinding against me.

When in Rome . . .

I cup her face, drag her close, and kiss her.

Without any cameras, without any agenda, without anything to prove.

There’s no reason but desire, and we kiss hard and hungrily in the lake at Central Park, and it feels like where we’re supposed to be.

I trace her lips, parting them with my tongue then stroking inside her mouth. I tug her closer, kiss her harder, our lips marauders. We plunder and suck, tongues tangling, bodies pressing.

She grinds against me, pressing on my cock, like iron in my jeans. And she’s relentless, a woman after her own pleasure, like she was the other night.

And the source of it is me.

It’s a thrilling and addictive feeling, knowing I’m the one she’s chasing like this.

That’s how we kiss.

Like we can’t get enough of each other. Can’t get enough lips, tongue, skin. My fingers curl around her skull, gripping her tight, slamming her against me.

Her hands skate into my hair, her fingers roping through the strands as she brings me closer. She’s panting, moaning, and nothing on earth is sexier than this woman revealing her desires to me.

For me.

And with me. I slide my hands down her back, along the crazy sequined dress and down to her ass, cupping her cheeks.

A groan rips from my throat as I squeeze her tight, firm ass. Yes, she was naked on me the other night, and yes, she was naked in bed, but it still feels like the first time.

Like I’m just discovering all her curves, all the softness of her body.

My hands slide lower, reaching the edge of her short dress. She feels too good. I break the kiss, panting. “So glad you got this dress.”

“Me too.” She breathes out hard, then lifts up and grinds back down on me, sliding against my cock, humping me.

Lust sizzles down my spine, radiating out through my whole body as she stares wickedly at me, a wanton, gorgeous woman eager for pleasure.

“I want you again,” she whispers, her voice all smoky and sexy.

It’s the hottest sound I’ve ever heard, and I can still barely believe it’s coming from her.

From my friend, who’s shown me so many sides of herself over the years—except this one.

“I want you again too. Right now, Summer.” I bring my mouth to her neck, kissing a decadent path to her ear. “But we really need to get to my place where I can strip you to nothing, worship your body, and make you come over and over.”

“Yes. That. Let’s do that now.”

She slides off me a few inches, setting her feet down, hunting for her flip-flops. As she roots around for her shoes while tugging down her dress, she stumbles.

Tips.

Pitches.

Right off my lap.

Everything happens in a heartbeat.

One second, she’s grinding on me. The next, she’s toppling off the side of the boat and into the lake.

33SUMMER

How to instantly become a social media sensation? Fall into the lake while humping your fake fiancé.

Once I pop up from the murky depths of the lake, he’s fighting like hell not to laugh at me.

I’m soaked, head to toe, and covered in algae or Central Park Loch Ness guts. Take your pick. Both are fetid.

“I’m a sea monster!” I say, skimming my hand over my soaking wet and utterly disgusting hair.

Oliver kneels on the edge of the swan boat, offering his hand as he cackles.

“You’re evil! You’re laughing at me. You’re a terrible fake fiancé.”

He rolls his eyes as he tugs me up by my hand. “I’m an amazing fake fiancé. Get back here, you sea monster of mine.” His tone is playful as he pulls me up out of the brackish water. I sling one foot over the edge of the white plastic boat then haul myself up the rest of the way, his hand an anchor.

I am an ungraceful, sopping, smelly mess.

I shove the strands of wet, tangled hair from my face.

“I told you not to do that!”

I jerk my gaze to the bearded man who rented us the boat.

He’s on the shore, pointing at us, flapping his arms. “I told you the rules!”

“Gee, thanks. I wanted to fall in the water. It was on my bucket list. Go to Central Park, ride a paddleboat, and fall in the cesspool known as this lake,” I shout back.

“I meant no making out, lady. Serves you right,” he yells.