Chloe’s pov

By nine the second bottle sat empty on the porch table and the sky had gone fully dark. The only light came from the kitchen window behind us and the soft yellow bulb over the back door.

Elena’s glass was dry and so was mine.

The air had cooled enough that my nipples stayed tight against my tank and every small breeze made the wet fabric of my shorts cling colder between my legs.

We had talked for hours, filthy admissions, half-laughs, long stretches of silence where her hand kept finding my thigh and staying there.

Elena stretched and set her empty glass down with a soft clink....