Killer Summer by Lynda Curnyn (knowledgeable books to read TXT) 📕

lame-ass suicide attempt, I’m gonna kick his sorry butt. I just invested almost twenty grand in this guy, and he goes and gets himself all fucking worked up and depressed over a chick he’s known for, like, five minutes? Hello?

JoBeth approached us, along with Vince, who was looking a bit shaken himself. Bunch of wimps. Now, Tom, he was the man. The man. The way he just took charge, dove in like that. It was something to see. I only wish Zoe had gotten it on camera, but I guess she had been just as surprised as the rest of us and too stunned to do anything.

“How is he?” Sage asked Vince.

“He seems to be okay. Tom’s got it under control. I’m going to go up to the house, call Good Samaritan Hospital, see if we can get an ambulance to meet the ferry. Tom thinks Les should go to the hospital, just to get checked out, before he goes home.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sage said, stepping up next to him as he headed toward the house once more.

I looked at JoBeth, her gaze roaming back and forth between me and Zoe and Francesca, her expression grim. Or maybe she always looked like that. I didn’t know her well, despite the fact that she lived in the house across the way, but she seemed like one of those serious types, with the short hair and that permanent worry line between her brows. Or maybe that was an age line. She was probably in her forties or so, though she could have been sixty, for all I know.

“So, JoBeth, how did you know Les was staying at our house?” Zoe asked now.

JoBeth shrugged.“I didn’t. But I did know that Tom was a lifeguard for a couple of years down in North Carolina where he grew up. I think he told me once he saved something like ten lives.”

“Seven,” Francesca corrected, startling us all.“It was only seven.” Then her eyes widened, as if she were surprised at the shock we were all exhibiting at her somewhat resentful tone. “What? I’ve only heard the stories, like, a million times.” And with that, she pulled the throw she had wrapped around herself more tightly and stomped off toward the house.

Yep, I can call ‘em. That chick’s a psycho.

“Well,”JoBeth said,“Tom seems to have everything under control, so I’m gonna head home. I’m beat!”

Zoe thanked her for coming, though I was having a harder time showing any gratitude. I was starting to think we should have left the fucking guy in the ocean. Come to think of it, I need to check with my dad to see if there’s anything in Les’s contract that covers us in the event of his death. Not to be insensitive or anything, but the guy’s a fucking walking hazard.

It always amazes me how much better a bed and a pillow feel when you spend half an evening standing before the specter of death. Not that this was a usual night for me, but I’ve had my moments. Damn, I was tired. Almost tired enough to shrug off the guilt Sage heaped on me for not taking the ferry back with Les. Not that Les needed me. Tom was more than willing to go, which I found surprising. He must have been on some adrenaline rush, because he came back to the house, packed Les up (I did help with that—I’m not that bad a guy) and shuffled him off to the ferry. Sage took me to task for that one, that was for sure. She was probably just pissed because Vince took off just as soon as Tom left with Les. I, of course, had to bear the brunt of Sage’s misguided anger, since Zoe had departed for parts unknown, and Francesca— well, she was probably still in her bedroom, pouting over God knows what. If she could earn money with that pout, she’d be a fucking millionaire.

I blew out a breath, sinking down farther into the mattress as I did. God, this was nice. Breeze blowing in, ocean roaring in the background. Pretty awesome being in the master’s suite. Especially without the master around. Nothing against Tom, but he snored like a chainsaw. In fact, I was hoping Tom didn’t hurry back from his little paramedic duty there, because maybe I could get to sleep before he came back and started up the nasal symphony.

I heard a door shut. Shit. Just my luck.

But when I heard my own bedroom door creak open in the darkness, I looked up and found not Tom, but none other than Francesca.

“What are you do—” I stopped, mostly because I had my answer the minute Francesca’s silky little robe hit the floor.

“Francesca—” I began, not sure if I was protesting or begging or what. Because if I thought Francesca was hot in those bikini tops and short little skirts, Francesca completely naked, with the moonlight spilling across her golden-tan skin, was astounding.

So astounding that whatever I was planning on saying to her never even got past my lips. Because suddenly she was on top of me, her sweet little mouth on mine as her hands went to my boxers, yanking them down. In fact, I thought she might rip them off, so I helped by kicking them off myself.

Then she was at me like a wildcat, her luscious chest pressed against mine, her teeth biting at me, practically devouring me whole as she pressed herself against my now impossibly huge erection. The minute I felt the warm heat of her slip over the tip of me, I came to my senses.

“Wait—Francesca, what are you doing?”

She sat back on her heels, a flash of annoyance on her face that I almost missed, so caught up was I in the sight of her smooth skin, her rosy brown nipples. “What the fuck do you think I’m doing?” she barked, then lifted her bottom up and proceeded to slide herself on me again.

The heat almost did me