The Summer We Burned

The Summer We Burned

Clara Evermore

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They thought summer would be simple-sunlight, laughter, and long nights by the sea. But when a single reckless kiss turns into a wildfire of desire, nothing can ever go back to the way it was. Between stolen glances and forbidden touches, their love becomes a dangerous secret-too hot to hide, too deep to ignore. Every heartbeat draws them closer. Every night burns brighter. And the more they try to resist, the more they surrender to the passion that refuses to fade. But with temptation comes risk. Summer won't last forever, and when the world threatens to tear them apart, they'll have to decide: was this just a fleeting fire... or the kind of love that consumes everything? The Summer We Burned is a sweet, romantic, heartbreakingly hot story of summer love-wild, addictive, and unforgettable.

Chapter 1 The Summer That Found Us

The ocean smelled like freedom. Salt and warmth and something untouchable hung in the air, a promise waiting just beyond the horizon. She stepped off the wooden boardwalk and onto the sand, her sandals dangling from her fingers. The sun, molten and endless, spilled its gold across the waves. Somewhere in the distance, music floated from the resort-soft guitar strings, laughter, the clinking of glasses.

Adanna had promised herself this summer would be different. She hadn't come to the coast to chase anything-or anyone. She came for stillness, to find a version of herself that wasn't tied to deadlines, heartbreak, or the noise of the city. She wanted nights quiet enough to hear her own breath. Days calm enough to remember what it felt like to smile without forcing it.

But fate doesn't keep promises. Fate writes its own.

She spread her towel on the sand and let her toes sink into the heat. The waves curled forward and retreated, curling and retreating like a heartbeat. She lay back, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. For the first time in months, she felt light.

That was when she heard it-laughter, low and unrestrained.

It cut through the ocean's rhythm, sharp as a spark. She turned her head and saw him.

He was running along the shoreline, a surfboard tucked under one arm, water glistening down his chest. Not the polished kind of handsome you find in magazine ads-something wilder, sun-bitten, messy in a way that made her stomach stir. His hair, wet and dark, clung to his forehead; his skin carried the bronze kiss of too many afternoons under the sun.

He glanced her way-just once, just enough-and for a second the whole beach disappeared.

She looked away quickly, pressing her palms into the towel, heat blooming beneath her skin that had nothing to do with the sun. She wasn't here for distractions. She had come for peace, and peace never looked like that.

Yet peace didn't seem interested in her tonight.

The surfboard hit the sand with a soft thud. She felt rather than saw his presence beside her, the kind of awareness that tugged at the edges of her body. When she opened her eyes again, he was crouched near the tide line, running his fingers through the water as if searching for something.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?" His voice carried over the rush of waves. Deep, playful, threaded with ease.

She blinked. For a moment she thought he was speaking to someone else. But when his gaze slid toward her, his mouth tilted into the kind of smile that knew exactly what it was doing.

"It is," she answered, her voice steadier than she felt.

"First time here?" he asked.

She nodded. "And you?"

He shrugged, water dripping from his hair to his shoulders. "I come here every summer. It's kind of my escape. Surf in the mornings, music at night, trouble somewhere in between."

She almost smiled. "And you're proud of that?"

His grin widened. "What's the point of summer if not to get into a little trouble?"

There was something reckless in his eyes, like a flame daring her to touch it. She should have looked away, should have buried her attention back in the waves. But instead she found herself caught, her heartbeat ticking a little too fast.

"I'm Adanna," she said at last, as if her name could anchor her back to herself.

"Luca," he replied. He said it easily, like he was offering more than just a name.

Silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but heavy with something unspoken. The resort music grew louder in the distance, a slow melody that wrapped around the night.

"Do you dance?" he asked suddenly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"At the bonfire tonight. Everyone dances. Even the shy ones." His eyes lingered on her, curious, inviting. "You should come."

Adanna shook her head, a nervous laugh escaping. "I didn't come here to dance. I came here to... breathe."

"Sometimes," Luca said softly, "dancing is breathing."

The words lingered long after he picked up his board and walked back toward the surf house. She watched him go, every step outlined by the setting sun. Her chest felt unsettled, as if something had shifted in the air.

She told herself she wouldn't see him again, that it was just a passing moment between strangers. But that night, as she stood on her balcony, the sound of drums rose from the beach. Firelight flickered against the horizon. And below, among the shadows and sparks, she saw him again-Luca, laughing, spinning, alive in a way that pulled at every thread inside her.

Adanna gripped the railing, the night air brushing over her bare shoulders. Her heart whispered the truth she wasn't ready to admit:

The summer she had come for silence was already beginning to burn.

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