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Instead, it’s worse.
I come up to the surface and hear him call my name.
He points upward—in the last ten minutes, the clouds changed from heavy white to something that looks like a dirty down blanket that will crash from the sky.
It’s gotten darker.
The air is thicker.
“It’s going to pour!” Archer shouts and starts swimming toward the shore.
That’s the tropics for you—the sun closes its eyes just for a moment, and the rain sweeps in.
Before I reach the shore, the heavy raindrops already whisper against the sand and thump on my skin, and when I run out onto the beach, it comes down like a wall.
Archer is pulling his jeans on. Tsk, I’d rather see him completely naked.
I pull on my cargo pants that are already wet, refusing to properly slide up my wet legs. The tank top is sandy, but I put it on anyway, and in seconds, my clothes is plastered to my body.
“Over there!” Archer squints through the rain at me and points toward an abandoned shack.
Riding in this downpour is stupid, I agree, so I run barefoot after Archer.
We pant as we run under the roof of the open shack and stop in front of each other, both of us wiping the water from our faces.
I smile, smoothing my hair and dragging my hands along its length, squeezing out the water.
My eyes are on Archer.
His are on me.
And what do you know—a smile comes onto Mr. Chancellor’s lips as he burns me with his stare.
“You always come with trouble, huh?” he says, his voice mixing with the sound of the rain clacking against the roof.
The world suddenly separates—the one outside the shack and the hissing of the downpour, and us in a twenty by twenty space, sheltered under the roof.
I raise my brows. “Trouble? It’s just rain.”
Archer wipes his face again, stepping closer, his bare chest, muscled and glistening with moisture, right in front of me.
I grin. “Youbrought us here, remember?”
He is shirtless, barefoot, and it’s the messiest I’ve seen him—the meticulous Archer who never has a strand of hair out of place unless it’s on purpose.
This makes him more approachable.
Though right now, he is the one approaching me. One tiny step at a time. All the while wiping his hair, the water trickling down his bare chest as my eyes follow.
God, his body is gorgeous. I just want to touch it.
“See something you like?”
His voice brings my eyes back to his—cunning, scorching, lustful.
He knows what I’m thinking. But I’m not afraid to say it.
With a smile, I lift my chin.
