“In the shower, Owen. You definitely looked.”
I can’t help the devious grin that curves the corner of my mouth.
The music’s louder now, the bass thumping through the sand, so I lean in close where she can hear me.
“You gonna act like you didn’t look too?” I murmur, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.
She stills, then swallows thickly.
“Maybe I did,” she shrugs. “Maybe I didn't.”
I huff out a deep, rumbly laugh against her hair.
“Oh, you definitely fucking looked.”
Her shoulders tense as a flush creeps up her neck, crimson and impossible to miss.
“The real question is,” I continue, lowering my voice, “did you like what you saw?”
She turns her head.
So close.
Her mouth is right there, less than an inch from mine. I can taste the rum on her breath.
“Owen...” she breathes heavily.
Fuck,the way she whispers my name has me staring at her lips, dying to have a taste.
“Because I did,” I continue. “You have no idea how bad I wanted to—”
“Oop!” she blurts, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Looks like the coconut rum is almost gone. Time for shot three!”
I study her, suddenly noticing the way she can’t meet my eyes—the way little chill bumps cover her skin even though it’s scorching hot outside.
She feels this. Just as bad as me.
Shot Three
After we down the third shot, Meadow looks up at the sky and laughs at nothing, which makes me chuckle in return. We’re well on our way to the giggly stage of being tipsy.
“Okay,” she mumbles, pointing at me with the empty cup. “That one didn’t even burn.”
“Congrats,” I grin, amused. “You think you’ll make it to shot four?”
“Please,” she scoffs, waving a hand in front of her and taking one step backward. “Duh—”
Before she can finish her sentence, her ankle wobbles, sinking into the deep sand.
On instinct, I wrap my arms around Meadow’s waist, pulling her against me. Her eyes go wide as her hands land on my chest.
I lose track of time as we just stand there, quietly staring into each other’s eyes as the people, music, and shot glasses swirl around us.
Her eyes dart between mine as her thumb gently sweeps against my chest. I don’t even think she realizes she’s doing it, caressing me so tenderly.
Fuck ‘playing it cool’.
“You’re really pretty,” I rasp. “You know that?”
