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"I didn't chicken out."
"Bullshit."
"I was concerned about your mental health. You should be thanking me."
"Drop. The. Finger."
She does. She pulls her knees into her chest. Wraps her arms around them. "It's freezing, huh?"
"Not too late for the wetsuit."
"Nope. We have to finish this game so I can warm up properly."
No, she has to strip out of that swimsuit so I can warm her up properly.
My cock stirs.
I tell it to get lost.
That isn't happening.
No matter how badly I want it.
"Never have I ever tormented a subordinate," she says.
"Am I that awful?"
She nods, but it's with a smile.
There's a part of her that likes the way I tease her.
That wants more of it.
More of me.
More of us.
But now I'm getting ahead of myself.
Chapter Twelve
Chloe
Truth be told, I haven't been surfing in ages.
Since way, way before my body betrayed me.
It's not like I was ever an expert. Gia and I went surfing a grand total of three times. We probably rode less than a dozen waves each.
I refuse to admit any of that to Dean.
He pretends like he doesn't notice. Cops some overbearing couch routine as he reminds me how to paddle, how to feel for the wave, how to jump.
It takes five tries, but I finally catch a wave.
Then another.
Another.
