“Chocolate. Chinese takeout or Mexican?”

“Mexican. Dress up or dress down?”

“Dress down, most of the time anyway.” He nodded in agreement with my choice. “Batman or Superman?”

“Batman. Favorite position?” He looked at me with an innocent expression and took a big bite of melon.

I stared at him for a moment and put my rind in an empty Lunchable container. “Offense.”

West tossed his rind next to mine and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “So you like to be in charge?”

I didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “If the guy doesn’t know what he’s doing, then yes.”

“And if he does?” West leaned closer.

“Then wouldn’t he be choosing the position?” I cocked one eyebrow, challenging him.

“Probably. Unless he wants to see what kind of moves you’ve got.”

I licked my lips. “I’ve got moves.”

“I know. And I can’t wait to see them again but not here. General Beauregard is underage. We need to keep it G-rated, PG tops.” West winked. “Wouldn’t want to traumatize the audience.”

I blinked at his comment. Suddenly, I was back in Nashville, back in my loft, listening to Asshole and Jameson talk about videos of me. Footage of Rebecca. Sex tapes. I gasped and turned away, shoving my sunglasses on top of my head and rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands, trying to erase the memories. Even though I had destroyed all the evidence, I still felt dirtied from the experience, like I wore a scarlet P for porn. I was anything but an ideal match for a guy like West, where image mattered to his parents. Maybe he didn’t want to be a part of the family business, but his love for them was clear from his actions. I had a past as an inadvertent adult film star, and I took boudoir photos for a living. What was I thinking?

A warm hand rubbed my back. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Something in my eyes. It’s better now.” Forcing myself to lower my hands, I dropped my sunglasses back over my eyes and smiled at him. “I’m ready for a doughnut, aren’t you?”

Moving away from him, I popped open the hinged top of my favorite green-and-white box, snagging one and taking a big bite. Yeah, I might have been eating my feelings just a little.

“How’d you know about the doughnuts?” I asked between bites.

“I’m just that good.” He lifted one shoulder in an arrogant shrug.

I snorted.

“Fine,” he admitted. “I asked Rue what your culinary weakness was. Fair warning — I plan on finding out all of your weaknesses and fully exploiting them.”

He looked at me, his eyes dark with promise, daring me to disagree.

I was starting to think West was my biggest weakness.

And I wasn’t ready for him to know that.

Breaking his gaze, I finished off my doughnut, holding my sticky hand in the air as I looked for another clean napkin. Not finding one right off, I licked the sugary remnants off my thumb. I heard a soft groan and peeked up to see West focused on my mouth. Eyes half-lidded, he pulled my hand to him and drew the tip of my first finger into his mouth, his lips wrapping around my sensitive skin. The rough scrape of his tongue as he licked and sucked each finger set me on fire, my eyes closing and lips parting. By the time he finished, my breathing was ragged, my thighs were clenched, and I wanted to feel that hot mouth moving on a different part of me altogether.

“You taste sweet,” he murmured. “Like you did the other night.”

I bit my lip to keep my moan contained.

Adjusting himself, West let out a slow breath. “Yeah, it’s time to cool off. C’mon, we’re going for a quick swim before we head back.”

I opened one eye and gave him my best are you crazy look.

West stood above me and reached down to help me up.

I remained firmly ensconced in the bean bag and crossed my arms over my chest.

“I just ate,” I pointed out. “We can’t swim for at least two hours. I’m a lifeguard. I know these things.”

He stared at me for a beat. “Then you know that’s bullshit.”

I squirmed. “West, I told you, I don’t like getting in the water.”

“I drove you miles offshore so the water would be clearer. So you could see what you were getting into. I thought this would help.”

I shrugged, undeterred. We were in deep water. I had no doubt there were some big ass sea animals out there. That sea turtle had been cool and all, but he didn’t live alone.

West crouched in front of me, putting his hands on my knees. “Care to explain it to me?”

I made a face.

He chuckled. “Please? With doughnuts on top?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing about you is stupid.”

Sighing in defeat, I told him my lame story. I expected annoyance or dismissal or irritation. Instead, he listened quietly and didn’t interrupt my woeful tale of childhood jellyfish trauma.

Rising to his feet again, he held out his hand. “Will you take a quick dip with me?”

I lowered my eyes, embarrassed and frustrated, but at the same time, pleased he’d worded it as a request instead of an order for a change. “I can’t,” I whispered, agitated.

“Okay.” West didn’t press me further. “General Beauregard and I are going to cool off for a few minutes. You can stay on the boat and enjoy the view.”

I grinned and made a point of focusing anywhere but him. “Yeah, the scenery is pretty amazing out here.”

He put a finger under my chin and lifted my face to his. He made a show of looking me over and then winked. “It’s fucking beautiful.”

I sucked in a breath as he turned and walked to the back of the boat and whistled for the dog, the eager puppy immediately on his heels. West opened some kind of hatchway that separated the back of the boat from a swim platform, and both he and the dog jumped overboard, uncaring of what might be waiting for them.

My heart leapt to my throat, and I raced to the rear of the boat, scanning the water for any signs of sea life, vicious or otherwise. Really, I considered all sea life malicious until proven innocent.

West splashed the hound, who whined and swam in happy circles around him, before switching to float on his back, his muscular body on full display. He seemed carefree and relaxed, his eyes closed against the sun’s glare and his arms splayed wide at his sides.

It was like a damn Greek tragedy; the land-bound mortal maiden drawn to the unreachable sea god. Well, I wasn’t quite a maiden anymore, but still.

I spotted a small jellyfish — a damn jellyfish — but it was far enough away from them I didn’t sound an alarm yet, although I resolved to keep a close eye on it as West relaxed, and the dog paddled nearby.

But when a small torpedo suddenly launched out of the water not ten feet from General Beauregard and flew, fucking flew, past the boat, I screamed like the scared little girl I was. The thing skimmed across the top of the water for about thirty feet before it dove back in. West shot up in the water and swam back to the boat when he heard my piercing cry.

Pushing the dog onboard ahead of him, West rushed to my side. He grabbed my shoulders and gave me a quick once-over before scanning the horizon. “What’s wrong?!”

Two more torpedoes took off on the left side of the boat. Starboard? Port? Who the fuck knew? I gasped and pointed. West whipped his head around in time to see the things before they slipped back into the ocean.

Turning back to me, he dropped his hands from my shoulders and clutched his stomach, laughing uncontrollably.

I turned wide, disturbed eyes in his direction.

“I take it you’ve never seen a flying fish before?”

I blinked at him. “That’s a real thing? Flying fish?”

He nodded, trying to reign in his laughter.

“That thing was a fish?”

Another zipped by on the other side of the boat, and General Beauregard yelped and ran to the bow.

West grinned. “Cool, huh?”

“Do they bite?” I pictured swarms of flying fish attacking the boat.

“They don’t have teeth, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why do they fly?”

West tipped his head from one side to the other. “They’re generally trying to escape from a predator,” he admitted.

I twisted my head in the direction they had come from, but I couldn’t see anything. I edged to the rail and looked into the water.

West slid behind me and plastered himself against me, wrapping his dripping arms around my waist. I turned to protest, and he pressed against my front, soaking most of my sundress.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, did I get you wet?” He grinned unrepentantly.

I pushed him away and pulled the bottom of the damp cotton away from my thighs before turning my accusing green gaze on him. “Are you trying to get me to strip down to my bikini?”

“Maybe.”

I tugged the dress over my head and laid it over the back of the center console, next to his shirt. “You could have just asked me, you know.”

“Would that have worked?” He raised his eyebrows, one corner of his mouth edging into a smile as he took in my bikini — seafoam-green edged with black lingerie-seamed detailing. Yes, I matched my bikini to my nail polish.

“Probably.”

“What else will you do if I ask?” He walked toward me slowly.

“What else do you want?”

He kept moving until we were almost touching. He bent his head down, stopping just short of my lips. “Everything,” he breathed, closing the last centimeter separating us.

His lips met mine, tasting of salt and sugar. Hands cupped my face and slid into my hair as we devoured each other. I wrapped my arms around him and grabbed his ass, pulling him snug against me until his hardness nestled into my softness. He cursed and ground himself against me, his tongue mimicking what his cock clearly wanted. I lifted one thigh and wrapped it around his waist, needing to get closer, my arms circling his back, and my hands clutching his shoulder blades.