Stacy Kestwick - Wet

Uneasy, I gripped the wheel, my body stiffening with anxiety. We hit a wave, and I smashed back against West’s chest, my head popping him in the chin and my bruised leg throbbing. Grasping my hip harder, he nudged the back of my knees with his, forcing them to unlock. “Relax. Look around. There are no other boats in sight. What are you worried about? There’s nothing to hit. We’re going to go up the coast a ways and then we’ll eat. Just keep her pointed that way.” He raised an arm and pointed straight ahead.

I licked my lips and nodded. Widening my stance, I held the wheel at two and ten, concentrating on the horizon.

The warmth from West’s hand disappeared from my side, and he moved from behind me and headed to the side of the boat. “Where are you going?” I asked, panicking.

“You’re fine. I’m just packing away the buoys from earlier. Keep going straight.”

I didn’t like him not being within reach of the controls. “Can we go slower?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Just ease back on the throttle next to you.”

I pointed at a black lever, and he nodded. I curled my fingers around it and pulled it halfway down.

We lurched forward with the sudden loss of speed, my stomach slamming into the console and West tumbling to the deck, catching himself on his hands and knees. Near the front, General Beauregard yelped as he slid into the bow of the boat.

Swearing, West picked himself up and came over to stand next to me. “Easy with my girl there, Sadie. She can handle a rough ride with the best of them, but she prefers a gentle touch.” He put my hand on the throttle and showed me how to change speed smoothly.

I tugged my hand out from underneath. “Maybe you should drive.”

“Nope. You got this. You’re going to earn your lunch.”

Leaving me again, he walked to the front of the boat and stood next to the floppy-eared dog as we hurtled over the water. The muscles in his forearms stood out as he braced himself against the rail, and I was transfixed by the strong lines of his back as the rushing wind molded his gray shirt to his ribs. His muscled thighs flexed and adjusted to the oscillation of the waves, reminding me of our night together, his hips pumping against mine.

And, yeah, I stared at his ass too.

It was a very nice ass.

After awhile, West came back and took over the wheel. “Why don’t you go back to the bean bag and put some more ice on that leg? We still have about thirty minutes to go.”

I was grateful to give up captain duty. I dug another handful of ice cubes out of the cooler and plopped back down on the squishy seat. Just as I nestled into a comfy position with the makeshift icepack secure around my shin, General Beauregard snuggled up next to me, putting his head in my lap. “Oh, now you want to play nice,” I said.

The hound whined and covered one of his eyes with his paw before burrowing closer.

At least the ocean was pretty calm today. The waves were slow, gentle rollers and the hull sliced through the tops of them, rocking us softly.

Closing my eyes against the bright sun, I rubbed the dog’s long ears and let my mind drift.

The next thing I knew, I was startled awake by West’s fingers brushing wayward strands of hair off my forehead.

“I’m botching this whole date thing, aren’t I?” he said, looking adorably disgruntled. “Now I’ve literally bored you to sleep.”

I yawned and removed my arm from under the dog, stretching my arms high above my head to get the kinks out.

Yuck. My entire left hand was covered in puppy drool.

Casting a devious glance at West, I reached out and wiped my wet hand all over his shirt and tried to get some in his hair, but he dodged my fingers and snagged my wrist in a firm grip. He held it until I raised my eyes to his, our gazes locking. Twisting his lips into a sexy smirk, he dragged my hand down his chest.

“Better?”

I nodded, feeling the definition of each hard ab muscle as my fingers passed over them.

He laughed. “Now you’ve gotten me all dirty.”

“I’m sure you were plenty dirty before you ever met me.”

My hand fell to my lap as West backed away from me and stripped his damp shirt over his head. I breathed out and forgot to inhale.

Dear Lord, the man was beautiful. His tan skin stretched over taut muscles that I ached to trace, to explore, to taste. From his broad shoulders and defined chest, down the ruggedness of his abs and those delicious obliques that angled past his hips, I was in serious danger of imitating General Beauregard and drooling on sight.

I swiped a quick finger across my chin just in case.

West laid his shirt across the bench seat to dry, and I tried to redirect my focus away from the onboard scenery.

I gulped and got to my feet, twisting to look in all directions.

Water, all around us, as far as I could see.

I squinted at it, raising my sunglasses to the top of my head to get a clearer view. The water looked different out here, the color softer. The translucent green was clearer than I’d expected. Closer to shore, it mixed with a deeper blue and became impenetrable, frothing with agitation. But this — this expanse of ocean looked less sinister. The undulations seemed gentle, almost welcoming. It was hard to explain.

I looked at West, bewildered.

“We’re a couple miles offshore.” He grinned, reading my mind. “Once you hit the Gulf Stream, the ocean changes personalities. Isn’t she gorgeous?” He swept his arm out, like he was presenting me with a gift.

For a few minutes, I studied the ocean around us, taking in the differences. I could see down at least twenty feet. It wasn’t crystal clear, like you see in photos of the Caribbean, but it wasn’t what I was used to either. I watched a pelican circle before diving, hitting the water at an awkward angle before floating and shaking its head.

“Why is the water so much calmer out here?” I asked, perplexed.

“The water’s a lot deeper. Waves tend to be more pronounced in shallower water.”

General Beauregard let out a long exaggerated bay from the other side of the boat as he propped his feet up on the side, his tail beating with excitement. We both turned and scanned the ocean, trying to see what had him worked up.

West pointed. “Look! A sea turtle.”

Indeed, the graceful creature was swimming about twenty feet away from us, its shell bigger than West’s oversized truck tire. “It’s huge!” I said, turning to West in surprise.

He smirked. “That’s what they all say.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head in mock disgust. “Your modesty is by far your best quality.”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s my—” I slapped my hand over his mouth, muffling the rest of his words.

“Don’t ruin such a nice moment by talking. Just don’t,” I admonished, giving him the side eye.

The laughter left his gaze, and he brought his long fingers up to my arm, holding my hand against his lips. He kissed my palm and then my inner wrist, leaving the sensitive flesh tingling. Then he laced our fingers together and wrapped our conjoined hands behind my lower back, forcing me against his warm, bare chest.

“Wouldn’t want to do that,” he murmured, his lips just grazing mine as he spoke.

He pulled me closer, raising me up on my tiptoes, and I braced my free hand on his shoulder. His lips brushed mine, a mere tease of a kiss. Humming deep in his throat, he cupped the side of my neck, holding me in place as he deepened the contact. His mouth settled over mine with lazy intent, molding my lips with his. The tip of his tongue traced the seam of my lips, and I smiled beneath him, but he didn’t push for more. He dropped hot kisses across my jawline until his breath warmed my ear as he nuzzled my neck with his nose.

“Hungry?”

I nodded, exposing my neck to his warm lips.

He let go of the hand behind my back, his fingers biting into my hips instead. My lips were a bare inch from his shoulder. I closed my eyes and just absorbed his nearness, the intensity of the moment building as he nipped a path down my neck to my collarbone. When he drew back and I felt his eyes on me, I forced my own heavy lids to open partway. He lifted a hand to trace my lips before his fingers blazed a path back to my waist, skimming the side of my breast in the process. My nipples beaded in response. I exhaled, not realizing I had been holding my breath.

His fingers flexed, and his mouth brushed the shell of my ear as he leaned down and whispered my name.

“Ready to eat?”

Disoriented, I blinked at him.

“Our picnic?” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You know, the whole reason we came out here?”

I took a step back and ran my tongue across my teeth in annoyance. He was playing with me. And it was working.

“Sure. Let’s eat.” I marched over to the cooler and beach bag. Finding an oversized beach towel inside, I spread it out near the bean bags and sat down on one side of it, wrapping my arms around my bent knees. “What’s for lunch?”

West grinned. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a little of everything.”

Reaching into the cooler, he started pulling out small plastic containers, subdivided into sections holding crackers, cheese, and circles of meat.

My eyebrows shot up. “You brought Lunchables?”

“Hey, don’t laugh. I love these things. I have turkey, ham, bologna, and pepperoni, your choice.”

“You brought Lunchables,” I repeated, this time a statement instead of a question. “For our picnic.”

“Not just Lunchables. I packed apples and watermelon too.”