A wave crests in front of us, taller than either of us expected, our eyes lifting higher and higher.
Sawyer’s smile falters.
My eyes pop wide. “Oh.”
“Fuck,” he says.
Sawyer’s hands clutch tight around my waist, and I feel him boosting me up, up, up as the wave crashes over us. Cold water engulfs me. There’s nothing but bubbles and salt and complete disorientation. His hands slip away, and I surface, spluttering, shoving wet hair off of my face, laughing. He bursts out of the water a second later.
“I don’t think we should be laughing,” he gasps between breaths. “I think we almost died.”
“What a way to go!” I grin up at him.
“This is a side of you I wasn’t expecting.”
My face falls. Is that bad? Am I too much out here?
“No,” he hurries to add. “It’s great. You’re adventurous, but on your terms. Like you are with your books, but… out here too.”
“I love the beach.” I let the water carry me off my feet for a second to sigh up at the perfect blue sky. “It’s the one place that stays constant despite all the time that passes. Where we are now is where the explorers first stood… Where the indigenous people lived for thousands of years… Where no one lived at all for even longer. Untouched and unspoiled and…”
“Perfect.”
I nod.
“You’re perfect,” he says.
A wave crashes into me, lifting me off my feet for a moment before setting me down again. I blink at him through a curtain of wet hair. Surely, I misheard him. He thinks I’m perfect?
“Beautiful,” he adds.
The waves nudge us together. Then apart. Then together again. Each swell of the ocean is determined to erase the space between us. Sawyer’s hand gently anchors to my spine, steadying me when another wave rolls through. He wants me so close. It’s the slow-motion replay of the moment in his kitchen. His eyes drift to my mouth. I won’t make the mistake of trying to entice him with that flirty little lick. I’ll be brave and take the lead.
This time, I let my hand curl gently behind his head, my fingers disappearing into his wet hair, waiting for the next wave to bump me closer. That’s when I’m finally going to—
His lips whisper over mine in a sweet, silky kiss.
Oh.
He beat me to it.
I adore this kiss. Sawyer is so weathered and rough around the edges. Calloused fingers hold my chin steady, and his beard is bristly, but those lips… Oh, thoselips… They’re so unexpectedly soft. He tries to pull back after that tiny tease, but I don’t let him. I need more.
I keep my hand buried in his hair and draw him back to claim another kiss.
“How could anyone say you’re a zero out of ten, Elsie Hoskins?” His hand cups my bottom and gives a very appreciative squeeze. “You’re a fuckin’ eleven out of ten. Nothin’ wrong with you.”
I want every inch of me pressed against him. I want him to bereckless.
My heart is a frantic drum in my chest, but I’m the one who arches up to demand the next kiss, and I’m the one who deepens it, teasing him with the barest slip of my tongue along his lips. But he takes it as permission to let go of any restraint. He’s ravenous.
His mouth moves against mine with a desperate sort of passion, imperfect in technique because he’s impatient now. A firm palm slides over my backside. His fingers hooking into the edge of my swimsuit, he pulls the elastic taut until I’m flush against him, and his erection grinds against my stomach.
God, yes…
This is what I want. This power. Knowing I can turn him on with just a kiss.
Breathless, we finally pull apart. I hope to see his heart in his eyes. I want him to tell me that’s the best kiss he’s ever had.
