Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Somehow, I doubt it.
SUNDAY
Scarlett
Today has been a dream.
Rowdy and his family took me snorkeling—a first for me. We’re back after an entire day on a charter boat, splashing in the tide on a beautiful public beach near the ship’s dock.
Standing waist deep in the water, I trail my palms on the surface, having just snorkeled my way from a colorful reef not fifty feet out. The sand is white, the water crystal clear, the occasional fish darting around as we wade closer to shore.
I’m dawdling, in no hurry, lifting tiny shells out of their beds of sand. Turn them this way and that, studying each one with a keen eye.
Nearby, Rowdy dips into the waves, tipping his head into the ocean and brushing his hair back. My eyes suction to his pecs when he rises, salty seawater sluicing off his hard, tan body.
Dripping.
Wet.
Droplets fall down his backside, glistening along his spine, absorbed by his aqua blue and hot pink swim trunks.
His beautiful mouth was on me last night, down between my legs.
I try not to gawk at him, but it’s damn difficult. He’s smiling at me, white teeth and sun reflecting off the water, sparkling like diamonds on his shoulders, chest, and abs.
Dear lord.
I drop the shell in my hand and it drifts away, gone.
The sound of the waves is a seductive caress and has me feeling exhilarated. Reflective.
“Rowdy?”
“Yeah?” He strides toward me, dragging his snorkel through the water.
“Why did you invite me here?”
He rolls his eyes. “Because you love the water.”
“Not to the beach, you goof—on this trip, to Florida to spend time with your family.”
Shrug. “Airfare was cheap.”
We’re closer to the shore now, my blue goggles resting atop my forehead, toes digging into the sandy ocean floor with every step I take.
My hand shoots out, grabbing him by his brawny bicep.
We both glance down at my hand, barely able to cuff halfway around his thick muscle, before our eyes lock.
“Sterling, stop.”
I’ve taken to calling him that lately, rather than his baseball nickname. It makes me feel closer to him, like we share something special, and only I can use his given name to address him.
He takes my other hand, sliding it around his narrow waist with a shiver under the blazing, Caribbean sun.
“Is that the only reason? The cheap airfare?”
He pauses, uncertain. “Of course not.”
“Why then?”
“I wanted to make you happy.” As he says it, his hands drift from the water, up my arms, resting on my shoulders.
“Why?”
His thumbs rub my wet skin, scorching it into oblivion. “Jeez, Scar, why are you asking all these questions? Is everything okay?”
Because I want to hear you say you love me—to me, not just to your mother.
“I’m not trying to be dramatic.” Too late. “I’m just curious—the waves got me thinking, that’s all. I’m so happy right now, I can’t even believe I’m here. I could stay here forever, right here in this spot.”
With you.
“You grew on me like a weed, babe—of course I want to haul you along everywhere.”
“A weed,” I deadpan.
“A cute weed?”
Cute? I narrow my eyes.
“A smoking hot weed with a beautiful set of tits I’d give anything to see naked right now?”
Tits.
Jeez, that word.
“Sterling!” I chastise, though his words get me so hot I moan. No amount of cool ocean waves can tamp down the electric sizzle running through my spine.
Those giant man hands of his graze my bikini top, thumbs hooking the straps, tugging.
“There are people watching.” There are families everywhere, kids. Couples. Grandparents.
His parents.
My eyes roam the beach, locating them under a cluster of palm trees, lying on deck chairs, his dad reading a World War II book, his mom sleeping with a towel draped over her face.
Rowdy follows my gaze while the tips of his thumbs brush across my nipples. “If we were alone, would you let me take your top off?”
That’s a no-brainer. “Yes.”
“What a coincidence,” he croons, deep voice giving me goose bumps. “We’re going to be alone later.”
“Is sex the only thing you think about?”
“Who said anything about sex? I’m talking about sucking on your boobs.”
If my face wasn’t already red from snorkeling, I’d be blushing, but the bright sun is sparing me the embarrassment.
Rowdy leans in, licking my ear. “But if you want to have sex later, I won’t shove you off the bed—promise.”
“How romantic.”
Now his hands are at my waist, pulling me against him, water sloshing around our midriffs. My breasts press against his chest—his gorgeous, firm pecs. His nipples stiff, dark areolas puckered.
“You look so fucking cute in that snorkel.”
Snort. “No one looks cute in a snorkel.”
“You do, especially with your purdy little ass sticking up out of the water.”
“Were you even looking at the fish?” I ask accusingly, palms sliding up over his abdominals.
“What fish?”
I smack him in the bicep. “These fringing reefs provide habitats for some of the most beautiful creatures on this planet, Sterling. I can’t believe you’re not even paying attention! There was a Nassau grouper back there!”