Under the Dusty Sky (Holloway Farms)

pull her hand away and press it to her own stomach before going back to driving. This is going to be the longest twenty-five miles I’ve ever driven.
    Not even ten seconds later, her hands are on me again.
    “ Gracie. Stop. You have a boyfriend.” I don’t look down at her, but I feel her head tilt in my lap to look at me.
    “ Who told you that?” she stumbles.
    “ Lacy. She said you got in a fight with the guy you’re seeing.”
    “ Dermott’s not my boyfriend.” She states so curtly that I almost think she’s sober.
    “ Does he know that?” I glance down at her, and she looks up at me with her glazed over glare and pursed mouth.
    “ Of course. We hook up sometimes. When we’re bored.”
    I laugh, and her glare deepens.
    “ When you’re bored? Like sex is a game to occupy your time?” I ask.
    Gracie’s face suddenly changes, and like the day she showed me her secret spot, her ego fully disappears. Her eyes go distant, and she turns her head.
    “ It’s not sex,” Gracie states. “And are you really going to tell me to wait until I fall in love? That love will make it all better? Make it more magical? More meaningful?”
    I stare blankly at the road while I process her words. Wait?
    “ Wait? Wait, as in wait for the first time? As in you’ve never...” I stutter, and my voice is lost behind the sudden pounding of my heart. I shift uncomfortably as she shakes her head. I figured I am something of a summer fling. But this...this changes things.
    “ Gone all the way? Nope.” She pokes me in the side, and I flinch.
    It takes everything I have, but I push the frantic emotion aside and lock it up. Of course she’s a virgin. She’s barely sixteen. I should have known that. I should have assumed that. But this is huge. The first time is monumental. A milestone. Shit. A memory.
    “ What’s wrong with waiting until you fall in love?” I just want to keep talking, to keep her talking. Hopefully talk her out of it. This has to do with her memories. Her perfect memories, which I apparently am now a part of. While I know should literally run, I can’t. I’ve always been so good at bailing. I should want to bail, but I don’t. That curiosity still pulls at me. I still need to figure her out.
    “ Love is just a word, Ben. It doesn’t mean anything. The word doesn’t mean anything.”
    “ It does if you give it meaning.”
    She snorts again.
    “ It doesn’t matter anyway. I told D we can’t anymore. It’s not perfect anymore.”
    I look down at her again and can’t stop myself from brushing hair off her face. Even drunk and half cross-eyed, I’d still say she was beautiful.
    “ What does that mean? Not perfect?”
    “ He’s not you.” She slides my hand over her mouth and kisses my palm, her lips searing my skin with an intense heat that ripples up my arm. I have to roll my shoulders to release the tension and clench my jaw because it feels so damn good, and it shouldn’t.
    I should be pissed at her. I should be terrified of what else she has planned for me. I don't want that, but I want her and I shouldn't. I want her to keep going, but I shouldn't.
    I suck in a deep breath and struggle to stay neutral as she runs her fingers along each of mine.
    “ I’m not perfect.”
    She ignores me and continues to stroke and tug on my fingers, which sends conflicting feelings crashing deeper into each other inside me. Multiple times, I want to pull my hand away, but it’s physically impossible to do so.
    “ D used to make me feel things. But not since you. You make me feel things in so many more places. And stronger.”
    She places my hand on her head. “Like here. Fuzzy.”
    I let her guide my hand lightly down her face as I attempt to focus on the road. My fingertips graze her neck and down her collarbone. She slides my hand over her heart.
    “ And here. Fast.”
    I swallow hard and blink a few times to make the road stop blurring. I should stop her. I should say that I don’t want any part of this. I should say that it’s not part of my job to babysit the boss’ daughter.
    She presses my hand down between the triangles of her bikini.
    The boss’ ridiculously hot daughter.
    No, Bentley, I think. No . I do not need to be 'the guy she lost her virginity to'.
    She stops my hand on her soft but muscular stomach.
    “ And here. Sinking.”
    Sliding over to her hip, she pushes my hand the length of her outer thigh. I can’t register anything that’s happening anymore. I’m so