"Wait! We're supposed to be in a relationship, but I don't even know when your birthday is," I cried.
Penn sighed. "My birthday's tomorrow."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Penn - 8
The drive back to Monterey was silent. My father sat in the backseat. Every now and then, a contented smile curved his lips. My stomach knotted every time. There was no denying that my mother had forgiven him, but I still could not even think about it. Still, there had been a strange peace to the entire evening that stayed with us on the winding drive.
Corsica sat next to me. Her long, blonde curls brushed against the leather seats of my car and tickled my arm. I rested it on the center console just for those occasional and accidental caresses. When I caught myself inching my arm closer to her, I shook my head.
Was I losing my mind?
Maybe Corsica was right and my mind was still processing the fact my mother was gravely ill with breast cancer. There was no other explanation for the magnetic pull I felt towards the secretive and snobby girl next to me. It had nothing to do with the fact that she looked flawless, even after an evening in the woods.
And a roll in the long, summer grass, I thought.
The stab of desire was hot and struck me right down the center. Corsica stirred and shifted in her seat, unconsciously flexing her long, tantalizing legs. At least that reaction I understood. I was more than attracted to Corsica–I desired her. I was thankful for the silence of the car ride just so I could relive our smoking hot kiss again and again.
When I absentmindedly pulled into my own driveway, my father cleared his throat. "I'm checking in at the hotel down on Sea Drive, if you don't mind dropping me there."
"What? No," Corsica said, sitting up. "You're staying here. It's your house, no matter what Penn says, and there is definitely plenty of room."
Scowling up at the eight-bedroom mansion, I couldn't disagree. "There's a small suite on the end of the east wing that you might like. Still an early riser, I'm assuming," I grumbled.
My father stopped himself from patting my shoulder. "Yes, and thank you. I don't mind the hotel, but I'd love to stay with you."
I shrugged him off and got out of the car. My father was easily forgotten when I opened Corsica's door and her long, luscious legs swung out. I knew the sundress had caused her grief at my mother's encampment, but I appreciated every short inch of it. I held out my hand and couldn't help but tug Corsica close as she stood up.
"Sorry," she whispered. "It seemed rude not to invite him. I'm figuring long-term girlfriends do things like play hostess, right?"
"I wouldn't know," I said, tracing a hand up the tight sweep of her back. "I've never had a long-term girlfriend. You tell me."
Corsica blinked, her petal soft lips parted. "My last relationship was three months. Does that count?"
I shook my head. "Nothing less than a year. I figure we've been dating for at least a year and a half."
She chuckled, her firm breasts against my chest. "How do you figure that?"
"Because that's how much I want you." I tortured us both with a quick brush of a kiss. The heat from her lingered.
Corsica swatted my shoulder with a charming blush on her cheeks. Then, she slipped out of my arms and went up the front steps after my father. I could ignore him, but I couldn't tear my eyes off her. I felt sweat break out on my forehead at the way the sundress swayed and clung.
Corsica was like a fever and there was only one cure. I had to sleep with her and get her out of my system.
"Goodnight, you two." My father hid his yawn behind a wolfish smile. "Make sure to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."
I wondered what he meant, but the idea of having Corsica all to myself was frying my brain. "He's right. It's late, and we should head to bed."
She smiled and slipped down the hallway ahead of me. My hopes soared until she zipped into a guest room two doors down from my master suite.
I laid a flat hand on the door before she was able to shut it in my face. "What are you doing?" I asked. "We've been dating for over a year and half, remember?"
"Regardless," Corsica said with a snooty tip of her chin. "I am not in the habit of sleeping with strange men."
"I'll trim my beard," I offered.
She laughed. "Sorry, but I'm off the clock."