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I started laughing along with him. It was pretty damned funny.
“I’m going to have to tell them about this later. They’ll love it. Marco does look kind of like a gang member, huh?” he said.
I nodded as I continued to laugh.
How fucking embarrassing.
We reached the rocks just as the sun said its final goodbye. Only a sliver of the pastel circle remained. I sat down on one of the rocks and stared out on the water. I’d never been one to spend a lot of time on the beach. I’m just not a big fan of the ocean. It’s way too powerful and I feel way too insignificant in it.
Around us the beach was completely empty. Trees were to the back of us and the ocean to the front. The hotel and its sunburned guests were far off to our left and the small party bonfire was to the right. We were alone in the dark.
“Can I ask you something now?” he asked as he sat down and put his arm around me.
“I knew you were going to ask and I assure you I’m not a gang leader either,” I said.
He laughed and squeezed me tight against his body. I felt comfortable in his arms.
“Do you have a lot of boyfriends in the United States?”
Is he asking me if I’m a whore?
“No, not really. I don’t have a boyfriend,” I said.
The thought of Braden and the carnival flashed through my mind and I pushed it out. This was not the time for fond memories of another man.
“No way,” he said. “I don’t believe you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re…como se dice…muy hermosa. Very beautiful. But…beautiful isn’t the right word. In Spanish sometimes we say something is rica. It’s like…delicious maybe. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
This guy is fucking awesome. He’s pretty hermosa himself. Or rica.
“Thank you,” was all I could think to say.
He leaned over and kissed me again. And it was more sensual than before. In the cart we’d been like two horny teenagers. On the beach we were two consenting adults, ready to finalize this deal.
His tongue was soft against mine and the hand that reached up to touch my left breast was sneaky. I liked the uninvited guest and turned to make it more easily accessible to him. He caught on quickly, gently groping me as his tongue kept my mouth busy.
Then he stopped.
“I have an idea,” he said.
And I’m supposed to believe you just came up with this idea?
“Let’s go in the water,” he said.
“That water?” I asked, pointing toward the black pool of crashing tides in front of us. “Or the nice warm pool back at the hotel? The safe one.”
“That would not be so fun. Too many people around.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. I knew this was coming didn’t I?
Knowing he had this up his sleeve didn’t prepare me for it. What is it with guys forcing me to do things I’m not comfortable with? First the Ferris wheel and now a dark, shark-filled ocean?
The worst part? I knew I’d do it. I wanted this guy and if he wanted to go swimming…well…I’d be getting wet. In more ways than one.
“I don’t have a bathing suit,” I reminded him.
