Spring Tide (Coastal University Book 1)

Waking up wrapped in Luca’s arms has officially become my favorite pastime. He’s so big and warm and cuddly, and his sturdy hands have found a home around my hips. Sighing, I snuggle in closer, nuzzling against him until our bodies are locked tight.

His breath whispers against the shell of my ear. He rasps my name and says, “Morning, gorgeous.”

I stir, turning in his arms until we’re face-to-face. Raising one hand, I trace the contours of his jawline with the flat of my palm.

“You know,” I say in a soft voice, barely waiting for the morning fog to clear from his eyes. “Before we started this whole thing, you told me that everyone has a type.”

He blinks, brow quirking. “I did.”

“Well, I’m dying to know what you think your type is.”

He pulls back a fraction of an inch. “Let me try to figure out the best way to put this.”

“What do you mean? Is it something I’m not gonna like?”

“It’s not that.” He presses a palm to my cheek. “It’s just, I like being alone.”

My eyes widen, confusion settling in. “Okay?”Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

“What I mean is—” He placates me with a soft smile. “—when I spend a lot of time alone, I don’t experience the same type of loneliness that some people do. Actually, I just feel like I can finally be myself for once. I don’t have to worry about what other people think of me or if the things I’m saying and doing are coming off a certain way. I can just be.”

I give him a nod of encouragement. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Even when I’m around my family, who I fucking love, there’s always some sort of expectation there. I have to be the older brother, the strong one, the supportive one who keeps his shit together. Then, when I’m at home around Taylor, there are still things I have to keep to myself. Things I can’t talk to her about for one reason or another, like with my injury, money issues, and now this fucking bullshit with our brother.”

I rub the side of his bicep, squeezing once for reassurance. “You’re right, that’s a lot to juggle.”

“So when I think about my type, I think about someone that I can be myself around. Completely.” He swallows thickly. There’s an uncomfortable tension in his gaze now, as if he’s plagued by his own vulnerability. “Someone who doesn’t expect me to think or act or behave a certain way . . . because they’re content with the person that I already am.”

“You want to feel the way you do when you’re alone but with somebody else?”

“Exactly.” He gives me a grateful smile, relaxing into the comfort of my understanding.

I blurt, “So, am I your type?”

Apprehension swirls in my belly while he thinks over a response. I self-consciously duck my head, fighting a shy smile as he tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear.

“I’ll admit, when I’m around you, I do get nervous,” he confesses. “You make me want to be the best version of myself. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t also feel so fucking content when we’re together. I love being around you, Harper.”

He pulls me closer, a bubble of happiness expanding in my chest. “I love being around you, too.”

“Good, then.”

“Man,” I say with a laugh. “I was expecting you to say something like . . . hot blondes in bikinis.”

He gives me a nonplussed look. “Were you really?”

“No, I guess not.” I laugh again, nudging his nose. “Usually, though, I’d expect someone to give me a list of physical traits.”

“I can do that, too.”

“Oh yeah? Then go for it.”

“Hair—” He toys with a loose strand, pulling at a tiny curl that frames my face. “—this pretty golden brown. Skin—” He runs his fingers across my cheeks and down over the column of my throat. “—soft, sweet, and full of freckles. Body—” He shifts on top of me, caging me against the bed. “—un-fucking-believable.”

Warmth spreads across my chest. “Hm, how can we find you someone like that?”

“I’m pretty sure I had my head between her legs, oh, about four hours ago.”

I tap a finger on his lips, blinking back shock at his dirty words. “Wow, it sounds like it’s time for her to return the favor.”

“Wasn’t a favor.”

I drag him in for a kiss, laughter spilling onto his lips. My free hand dips below his waistband. As soon as I feel him nod against me, I reach into his boxers and grip his erection, stroking him with a firm hand. He groans, low and deep from the back of his throat, his head dropping into the crook of my neck.

He holds himself over the top of me, careful to place pressure on his right knee with his elbows perched on either side of my body. I glance between us, watching, captivated by the sight of his stomach muscles tensing and rippling with each gentle tug.

“Oh . . . shit,” he mumbles against my neck.

“We have at least twenty minutes before we have to head back to campus.” I gently scratch the back of his neck, running my fingers through his hair. “Plenty of time for another quick round.”

“I don’t know, what if we jinx it?” He pauses, his cock twitching against my other palm. “Fuck,” he groans again, “that last time really was my favorite.”

“You’ve said that every time.”

He kisses my neck, sucking at my collarbone. “Because it just keeps getting better.”

Okay, so we may have given each other several more orgasms throughout the night. It was tough to fall asleep after that initial adrenaline rush. I’m not, like . . . a sex fiend or anything, but I wanted to try out a few more adapted positions after our first time. Surprisingly, there are a number of ways to intertwine our bodies without adding pressure to Luca’s injury.

Despite what he deludes himself into telling me, I know that he’s still healing. And I’m not going to contribute to his pain in the name of our mutual pleasure.

“Exactly my point,” I say.

Lifting my hips, I grind against him, desire and heat pooling low in my core. We work together to shimmy his boxers halfway down his thighs, but my breath catches in my throat as the front door slams shut.

“Harper, honey?” My dad’s concerned voice carries down the hall, barreling through the bedroom door. “Is that you?”

“One second, Dad!” We both fumble our way out of bed, panic striking Luca’s eyes as we frantically tuck ourselves back into our clothes

“I’m sorry.” I shoot him an apologetic glance. “I really did not think he’d be here this weekend.”

“Goddammit,” he grumbles. “Please don’t tell me I’m about to meet your father for the first time”—he gestures wildly to the obvious bulge in his jeans—“like this.”

Dad calls my name for the second time, the sound of his heavy footsteps trailing closer. “Whose Outback is that out there?”

“It’s my friend’s,” I shout back, watching Luca tense up out of the corner of my eye. “Give us a second, and we’ll be right out.” Dropping my voice to a whisper, I murmur, “Just think about, like, your grandma or something, and it’ll go away.”

“Jesus, Harper.” He smacks a hand to his forehead. “I think hearing your dad walk down the hallway just put the fear of God in me, anyway. My dick’s basically crawled back up inside my body.”

“Then let’s go.” I smile, grabbing my purse off the floor and popping it over one shoulder. Taking his hand, I lead us down the hall. My dad is waiting for us at the end, foot tapping, both arms crossed over his chest. He lifts an unimpressed brow.

“Dad, this is Luca,” I say cheerfully, gesturing to the six-foot-two man attempting to cower behind me. “Luca, this is my dad, Christopher.”

Dad might appear to be intimidating from the outside, but I know he’s putting on a show for Luca’s sake. He’s met many of my friends before, as well as my dates, and even the occasional hookup. I know he doesn’t mind that we used the condo this weekend. In fact, I’d bet he’s delighted that I finally made the trip.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Luca clears his throat, tentatively stepping forward to shake Dad’s hand. “I’m sorry for barging in on your place this weekend. We sort of drove up on here on a whim and—”

“No worries, kid,” Dad cuts in. “I know how my Harper can be. Free-spirited, always going where the wind takes her.”

Luca tugs at the collar of his shirt, poorly attempting to conceal his nerves. “Right, yeah. Of course.”

Dad gestures between the two of us. “So, this is new?”

I lean against Luca’s shoulder. “Oh, we’ve been dating for a couple of months now.”

“What happened to that girl you were with?” Dad asks, giving me a questioning look.

My brow crinkles in confusion. “What girl?”

“The blonde? The one I helped you move in with back in August.”

“Oh my God, Dad.” I drop my head back with a groan. “Stella and I are just friends. Best friends. I’ve known her for three years now. You know this.”

“Then why are you living with her?”

“I don’t know, to have a roommate?” I scoff, bewildered by his accusation. “To split living expenses with . . . and stuff.”

He sniffs an amused laugh, staring at me as though he has no clue what I’m talking about. “You know you don’t need to worry about that.”

I chance a sideways glance at Luca, taking note of his stiff posture. This whole conversation is making him uncomfortable, that much is clear.

“Dad,” I mutter, a hint of embarrassment creeping up my spine.

“What?” he asks, clueless as ever. I stare at him blankly, nodding toward my guest. “Oh, sorry. Why don’t I take you both out to breakfast this morning, how does that sound? We could go to that place on the water that you like, Harper Jo. The one with the crab benedict.”

“We don’t really have time today,” I say, offering an apologetic shrug. “We both have to work back near campus.”

“Are you still working down at the beach?” Dad fishes his Tom Ford wallet out from the back pocket of his trousers. “I told you I’d up your allowance if that’s the issue. Or your mother can do it. She certainly could spare the spousal support.”

“No, I don’t need that.” I wince as he pulls out a thick wad of cash. “And it’s my last shift today anyway.”

He shrugs as if to say, suit yourself. Stuffing the money back into his wallet, he turns his attention to Luca. “You a lifeguard, too?”

“Uh, no, sir.” Luca wrings both hands together, rubbing his thumb against the outside of his wrist. “I work down at the pier.”

Dad gives him a tight smile. “Ah, I see.”

“Luca’s also the defensive captain for our school’s football team,” I chime in, happy to brag about my guy.

I’m so proud of how hard Luca works in all aspects of his life. If he won’t boast about his accomplishments, then I’m more than willing to take matters into my own hands. Plus, my dad is a big football fan himself. It might give the two of them something to bond over in the future.

Dad visibly perks up, his attention piqued. “Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.” Luca gives him a polite nod, but his expression remains guarded.

“What position do you play?”

“Middle linebacker,” Luca says. “I’ll be declaring for the draft this year.”

It’s bothering me that I can’t tell what either of them is thinking. There’s still an awkward lilt to the conversation, and I’m not so sure that football helped bridge their connection after all.

“Maybe I’ll have to come check out a home game with my daughter sometime,” Dad offers with a smile, landing a heavy pat on Luca’s shoulder. “We could all grab dinner the night before. My treat, of course.”

“Sounds good, sir.”

“Dad,” I cut in. “We really do have to get going.”

“Sure, sure, honey.” Dad follows us to the front door, waving us both off. “Drive safe, you two.”

Despite my offer from last night, Luca holds his hand out for the keys, approaching the driver’s side of his car. An uncomfortable silence washes over us as we settle into our seats. Sighing, he puts the car in drive and slowly pulls away from the condo.

“I’m sorry about my dad coming back so unexpectedly,” I say into the silent air. “And um, you know, he can be a little out of touch sometimes.”

“Yeah, look . . . can I ask you something?” His grip tightens around the steering wheel, shoulders pulling back. “Just a hypothetical?”

“What’s up?”

“Would you be embarrassed of me if I didn’t play football?” His voice is soft, unsteady as he continues. “If I wasn’t hoping to get drafted come April?”

“What?” I fumble with a response. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“I mean, if I was just the Luca that works down at the pier. The guy that has to scrape together two pennies just to pay for his tuition, unsure of his future prospects.”

“I like you for you.” My heart sinks like a stone, carelessly tied up and tossed into the river. “If you changed your mind tomorrow and completely dropped football, it wouldn’t matter to me. I just want you to do whatever it is that makes you the happiest.”

The silent gears tick away inside his mind. Finally, after what feels like a period of a thousand years, he gives me a half-grin and says, “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods one final time, seemingly reassured by my adamant denial. “I believe you. I just had to ask.”