“Never seen tattoos before or somethin’?”
“I have. Not that many at once, though,” I say, heat braiding up my neck.
I force my eyes down, desperate to appear unaffected, but they go straight to his hands, big and battered as he peels off his boots. Then, his jeans are the only thing left, clinging to his hips with a threatening kind of gravity.
“Don’t drown,” I manage, but he is already turning and diving in.
I look to Adrian, who raises his brows. “Statistically, a baby on an island is...”
“Shut it, Adrian,” I say, cutting him off.
He shrugs.
I stare down at my own cuts and sunburn, my shirt soaked with sweat, blood and salt. I want nothing more than to rinse off, to let the water leech away all the last two days, but the thought of undressing in front of him, here, now, paralyzes me for asecond. Not because I think he will judge, just because he makes me so damn nervous.
Plus, Adrian is still fucking staring at me.
Still, the water is more appealing than my need to be shy. So, I peel off my tank, the fabric sticking to my ribs. My skin is a wild map of pinks and reds, sand sticking in streaks to my stomach. I pause, then drop my pants until I’m standing in my bra and underwear. I cross my arms, stalling a beat. He watches me, a dark heaviness to his eyes that makes me nervous. He’s looking at me like I’m a statue in a museum, fascinating and beautiful, untouchable.
“Don’t be shy,” he murmurs. “Get in.”
I step to the edge and dive in.
The water is so cold it erases everything—pain, worry, even the memory of the storm. My body jolts, hyper-alert, every nerve alive. I stretch my legs out, relishing in the relief it brings. I open my eyes and see sunlight cutting down through the water, my own hands reaching ahead. For one impossible second, I think I could swim away from all of this: the beach, the girls, the wreck, even my own guilt.
I come up to the surface, and breathe in deep, closing my eyes for a second.
“Amazing what a good wash can do,” Ace murmurs and I open my eyes to look at him. “I didn’t want to say it, but you fuckin’ smelt really bad.”
He grins.
I splash him, a cheap shot, but it connects. He looks shocked for a split second, then splashes back—a tsunami compared to my little ripple.
For a second, we forget where we are.
He swims backwards, keeping his eyes on mine.
“Did I really smell?” I ask, using my arms to keep me afloat.
“No,” he grins.
We float around like that for a while longer, just taking a moment to not have to think about what waits for us when we get out.
“Why did you agree to come on this trip?” I ask, swimming closer. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who would work for my father.”
His eyes darken in a way I can’t quite put my finger on. “Job’s a job,” he shrugs.
Dismissive.
I wonder why.
“Did you know him before he offered it to you?”
He nods, no answer.
“Does he watch your fights or something?”
“Or something,” he murmurs. “Come on, we should get this water back to the others.”
