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“What?” She laughs. “I haven’t got time to wait around for you to decide what the hell you’re doing in here. Leon’s waiting for me.”
Leon? My back straightens. Hot, surfer dude, pot smoking, younger Leon? “Are you decent?” I ask, getting a bit hot.
“No.”
I turn anyway, inhaling when I find her still gloriously naked. I’m going to hell. “You’ve never been out on the water before,” I point out.
Her green eyes sparkle excitedly, her smile demure but small. “It seems to be a standard skill to have around here, so I thought I’d better pull my finger out and learn.”
So she’s asked Leon to teach her? No one knows a jet ski like I do around here. Maybe Danny does, but that’s not the point. The point is, she’s a newbie and Leon is . . . young. Which means his young arms will be wrapped around her young body and that’s fucking acceptable.
Except it isn’t.
In fact, it’s really fucking unacceptable.
Pearl turns toward the wetsuit hanging on the locker, giving me her ass. A sweat breaks across my brow. Perfect, pert. Young. I groan under my breath when she reaches up on tiptoes to unhook it from the hanger, every piece of her becoming taut.
Along with my cock.
She pulls some bikini bottoms on and then sits on the bench, getting the wetsuit at her feet. “Are we done?” she asks, feeding her legs through, looking up through a veil of red hair that’s fallen over her face.
I don’t have a chance to answer. The door knocks and opens immediately, and Leon appears.
“B-Boss?” he says in question.
My mouth falls open, astounded. Is he for real? I look over my shoulder to Pearl. My half-naked Pearl. “What’s the point in fucking knocking if you’re gonna walk right in?” He’s obviously picking up bad habits from Beau. “Anyone could have been in here.” I walk forward and push a palm into his chest, forcing him out.
“I saw Pearl go in and the other ladies leave,” Leon says, laughing nervously. I don’t like it. His nerves. “I didn’t see you go in,” he goes on, craning his neck to look past me to Pearl. I look back too. She’s standing now, pulling the wetsuit up her body, her tits out and proud. What the fuck?
“Out,” I hiss, shoving him through the door and slamming it. So he came in here thinking she was alone? And . . . what then? I shouldn’t care.
Problem is, I fucking do. I really fucking do.
My fist bunches, and I push it into the wood to stop myself from punching the door. “Are you decent?” I ask through my teeth, refusing to give my eyes what they want.
“I’m decent,” she confirms quietly, so I slowly face her, just as the zip of her wetsuit passes her breastbone. I smile, unable to stop myself. “What?” she asks, looking down her front. “What did I do?”
“It’s back to front,” I tell her, waving a finger up and down her body. “The zipper should be at the back.”
Her frown is huge. “Oh.” Then she proceeds to pull it down again, and I realize I’ve just completely fucked myself over.
“Pearl, wait,” I say, holding a halting hand up, making her pause midway to wriggling her arms out.
“I’m waiting,” she says. “But what for?”
“For me to leave.”
“Then leave,” she says, easy as that, as if it is as easy as that.
“I’m fucking trying. Really trying, Pearl.”
“But you can’t?”
Fuck. “Did you use me?” I blurt.
“Use you?”
“To . . .” I can’t say it. “To . . .” So I stutter and stammer all over my words. I’m a grown fucking man, for Christ’s sake. Listen to me.
