Free Wild Swans by Jessica Spotswood Page A

head, his fingers tugging a little in my hair.
    Tentatively, I slide a hand up his arm. His other hand slides down my spine, and it makes me shiver in the best way. We kiss and kiss and he tries to tug me closer, but it’s impossible sitting side by side on this stupid bench with our knees in the way. Our kisses grow harder, hungrier. Ravenous. I want to be closer.
    I gather the courage to kick off my flip-flops and swing one leg over his lap so that I’m straddling him. My dress inches up. Connor pulls back to look at me for a second, surprised but not displeased, and then I launch myself at him, kissing him hard. He makes a little groan at the back of his throat, and I am thrilled by my own power. One of his hands slides up my thigh and the other skims up over my ribs, grazing the side of my breast, and I know we are in public, but I want him to touch me.
    â€œIvy,” he says, and the sound of my name on his tongue is so hot. I never knew someone just looking at me could make my stomach flip, could make my whole body react like this.
    Our lips meet again and my hair falls down around us in a tangled brown curtain, shielding our faces, creating our own little private bubble. Then the wind blows and Connor laughs, swiping a strand of my hair out of his mouth. I giggle too. I pull an elastic off my wrist and yank my hair into a quick ponytail. Then I blush as I realize that from this angle, me perched on top of him, he can see right down my dress. I’m glad I’m wearing a cute yellow bra.
    But I’m not a little pixie like Abby. Suddenly, I feel self-conscious. “Is this okay? Am I crushing you?”
    Connor shakes his head. “It’s way more than okay.” He sits up a little, holding me close with a hand at the small of my back. His mouth moves to my neck, which feels incredible, and I slide closer—close enough that I can tell he is as into this as I am, in case I had any doubts. I wonder what it would be like if we were somewhere private, how far we would let this go.
    â€œ Ivy? ” Alex is standing a few feet away, a beer in his hand and a look on his face I’ve never seen before. He is pissed . I pull away from Connor, untangling my arms from around his neck, scrambling off his lap.
    â€œWhat… Who the hell is this?” Alex demands.
    I tug my dress down. I can still feel the warm imprint of Connor’s hand on my thigh. “Hey. Hi. Um, this is Connor.”
    Connor gives him a head nod, running a hand over his close-cropped hair. “Uh, hey.”
    Alex ignores him, leaning over and picking up my empty lemonade bottle, which has rolled away from the bench. He looks from it to me like he’s putting puzzle pieces together. “Ivy, are you drunk ?”
    â€œNo!” I step back into my flip-flops.
    â€œRight. Nice. You didn’t notice she was drunk, or you didn’t care?” He glares at Connor and grabs my elbow. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”
    I yank away. “Wait a minute. Don’t make it sound like that. It’s not… It wasn’t like that.” I look back at Connor, whose eyes are narrowed as he watches Alex and me. I want to be clear. I might have let things go further than I should have in public, but I wanted this to happen. I was a very enthusiastic participant.
    â€œYou sure about that? This isn’t like you. I know it’s been a rough day,” Alex says in a low voice, and for a second I hate him. Hate that he knows me so well, that he can say so authoritatively what is and isn’t like me. “Come on, Ivy. Let me take you home.”
    Connor stands. Alex is tall, but Connor is taller. Broader. My eyes trace his shoulders, where my hands rested just a few minutes ago. His lower lip, which I was biting a minute ago. “Wait, Ivy—”
    Alex turns on him. “Leave her alone.”
    â€œLook, I don’t know who you are,” Connor says, “but I’d like to