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I laugh, this time more amused than shocked. “You don’t believe in that shit, do you?”
“What?” she asks.
“Happy endings and soul mates and all that bullshit.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m not even going to start on that with you. Cynicism and happiness don’t go together, so I doubt you’ll understand.”
While she’s talking, she leans into me, really getting up in my face. But that only puts her lips inches from mine, and the fire in her eyes is so fucking hot, all I can think about is grabbing her and kissing her.
I slide my eyes to her lips again—I can't stop staring. Her mouth is mesmerizing. No matter what she says. And I want to touch her again. I want to feel her body writhe under mine.
The atmosphere shifts and something thick and heavy grows between us. My cock punches up in my pants, and I want her. So fucking badly.
I ache for her.
Her breath catches in her throat and her eyes change. I lift my hand and brush my fingers down her bare arm. The contact is electric. When I look at her eyes again, I get lost in them.
I’m fractions away from kissing her when lightning snaps down and the air is thick with electricity. Not the kind she's generating with her anger. The kind we need to get the fuck away from.
Rain starts to pour. It doesn’t come down drop by drop, slowly building up. It’s like a dam wall broke, the heavens opened up, and the water pours down relentlessly.
In seconds, we’re both drenched.
“We have to get back!” Jenna cries out over the sound of more thunder rattling the ground we stand on.
I nod and we head through the trees the way we came.
It’s a short walk to the beach where we got off the boat, but with the weather as crazy as it suddenly is, the lightning striking close by, and the thunder making us feel tiny against the size of nature, the walk feels a lot longer. We're reminded of how small and vulnerable we are.
When we reach the beach, it’s deserted.
“Did we go the wrong way?” Jenna asks, looking up and down the beach.
I shake my head and look in the direction we came.
“There,” I call above the rush of the rain, pointing at the boat I can see in the distance. “They left.”
“Without us?” Jenna cries out. Her shock is clear. Our friends left us.
“We have to get out of this storm,” I say.
“But what if they come back?”
“They’re not coming back right now. My guess is the skipper decided to go because it’s dangerous to be so close to the shore. The waves are insane.” I point to the water that froths angrily. It would crush the boat if it was there. The skipper made the right choice.
“They just left us here,” Jenna says in a small voice. The flyaway hairs cling to her face, and water drips from her eyelashes. She looks nervous, her brows knitted together.
"We're out of danger on the beach," I say. "But the boat could have been smashed."
"We're out of danger?" she cries out. "Is that what you call this?"
"We're not going to die of a little rain, Jen.They’ll be back, eventually,” I say. “But we might have to wait out the storm first. Come on; we need to find shelter.”
Lightning cracks on the rock just off the shore, and Jenna jumps.
“Now,” I urge, and I grab her arm, dragging her toward the trees.
“Isn’t it dangerous to be between the trees when there’s lightning?” she calls over the sound of the rain that has turned into a rushing in our ears.
