Page 134 of Theta

She lifts her face and looks at me. "That wasn't weird for you?"

I shrug, shake my head. "Nope."

"Question."

"Shoot."

"Your parents. Do they pee in front of each other?"

I laugh. "God, yes. Mom walks in while Dad is taking a shit if she needs something."

"Both Mom and Dad are very private about that stuff."

"And you?"

She shrugs. "I've never felt comfortable enough with anyone to behave like that." She looks at me, a small smile on her lips. "But now that I've peed on you, I think it's safe to say I'm comfortable."

"Good. I'm glad.”

I twist to my back and kick away until the bottom is just deep enough that I have to do a moon-jump to touch bottom and keep my face above the water, and then I roll onto my back and kick away with her on my chest like a baby otter. Story clings to me, all arms and legs, head on my shoulder, eyes glittering in the starlight as she gazes at me while paddling us aimlessly this way and that.

"Kill?"

"Mm."

"Thank you."

I frown. "For?"

"Accepting me." I see her blush in the silver light. "Loving me. Making me feel safe." A deeper blush. "For earlier."

"Shy now, huh?"

She nods. "Once I'm turned on, I'm bold as brass and have no filter. But otherwise, not so much."

"Story, tonight will be imprinted on my soul for the rest of my life."

I dance us along the shoreline a ways, and then back the other way—there are stronger currents in both directions—the beach is the ending, a sandbar that extends almost a mile straight out, reaching toward another island now long sunk, representing a former isthmus. To either side of the sandbar, the water is much deeper and much swifter—which is why the sailboat is anchored just off the sandbar.

“You’re thanking me for accepting you taking control,” I say, making my guess a statement.

She nuzzles into my throat. “Yeah.” She's shy, sleepy. It's so cute it's killing me.

"I love it. And I love that it can be a dynamic thing. I can be in control, and so can you. I'm not threatened by it—just the opposite, actually. It's fucking hot. But I also love it when you beg me to get rough with you."

She burrows closer. "Killy!” It's a scold.

"What?" I laugh.

"Don't tease me."

"I'm not!" I say, laughing. "God, you're so fucking adorable when you're sleepy."

She just snarls, soft and small and cute. "I’m not cute."

"The fucking cutest."

"Do I need to get on my knees and show you how uncute I am?"