“Maybe... not...”
“You’re an idiot!”
“You don’t know to what extent.”
“Yeah, I do. And now, give me a kiss,” I say with a weak smile. I don’t want to remember that day.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Then I’ll be the one kissing you.”
Our lips meet and Alex hugs me tightly, brushing his body—still soaking wet from his swim—against mine.
“Ah!” I cry out. “You’re so cold!”
“Then come, Queen of the Desert, and warm me up.”
We warm each other amid laughter, moans and good sex in the garden.
I wouldn’t know which of your brothers I prefer, because I like them all. A lot. And I think this summer, indeed, they each carry their own storm within.
Pristy the Squirrel: After that moment in the pub with the Cabana siblings. And Alex. And Jaime.