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When I turn around, I find Shepherd already grinning at me.
“Dinner can wait. Let’s go,” he says.
We shut Molly in the bungalow before we go diving in—a little too quickly.
Water sprays up my nose and plasters my hair to my scalp, and I come back up a sputtering mess.
Shepherd makes it look too easy.
He slices through the waves, his body sleek and strong and heroic, drawn like a bow.
It reminds me of when he first taught me to kayak and insisted on proof I could swim.
Back then, I thought he was a stubborn safety freak. Obsessed with minor details and things that didn’t even matter.
Could he not just take my word for it?
Now, I appreciate the caring heart he hides behind all those layers.
And okay, fine, so maybe it was sensible to not just trust my word.
I cut through the water after him, letting it stream past my body. I force my eyes open and look at the royal-blue fish darting around us.
I’m living in a painting now, vibrant and colorful and alive.
Just like everything about being with Shepherd Foster.
We paddle out into the bay, hearts pounding, laughing through mouthfuls of surf. When he flings a few handfuls of water my way, I scream and toss a few back.
He takes a direct hit in the face and goes under.
For a second, I’m worried—until he pops up and splashes a wave over me.
I’m still screaming as he takes me in his arms, the little water spat over. We swim through the sea of stars and so many laughs.
The glow is ethereal against his bare chest.
He doesn’t look like a man here. He could be something otherworldly, every muscle bathed in luminous light. The starlight highlights all his perfections—and there are plenty.
He takes a lock of my hair and twirls it, staring. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
“Only every hour.” I preen. “But you can tell me again anytime.”
“Dess, you’re fucking gorgeous.”
The last sunlight disappears around us in a symphony of color and the bugs start up their night songs as we kiss in the ocean’s second sun.
Bioluminescence coats my hands as I reach up to cup his face.
Soon, we’re both smeared in it like war paint.
I wrap my legs around him and we kiss.
It’s heady and intense and I think we’ll never get enough. Then we go deeper, hand in hand, cutting through the silky waters and bobbing under the rising moon.
This is, without a doubt, the happiest night ever.
Later, when we head back inside, Molly bounces like a rubber ball in excitement. After greeting her, Shepherd drags me into bed, impatient as always but not just possessed by physical need.
