“We’re not on the same planet.”
“Nope, I’m from Mars, you’re from Venus.” A cocky little grin at his dumb reference.
“You know what I mean.”
“What I know is that you have an absolutely incredible body, and you’d better start taking clothes off and go skinny-dipping with me.” He steps toward me. “Or I can help. But if I start helping, I can’t guarantee there won’t be a repeat of what happened last time, and I’m trying like hell to make sure that doesn’t happen, just so you can have time to think or process or whatever, and come to the conclusion I’ve come to.”
“Which is?”
“You and I were made for each other.”
“Quit seducing me and go back to being funny,” I whisper.
“Fine.” He jogs backward. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”
And then he sprints full tilt for the ocean.
“Fuck it,” I mutter.
Take a long slug of wine—it’s damn good wine, a thick rich red. Not the chugging kind of wine, but the sipping slowly kind. I chug anyway, and feel it burn in my throat and warm me all the way down, and I immediately feel it in my head, feel it loosening me…just enough.
Setting the bottle in the sand and twisting to keep it lodged in place, I yank the zipper of my skirt down, shimmy out of it. Peel out of my shirt. Bra off, wiggle out of my underwear. Shoes off.
Naked, outside.
Naked, outside, during the day…
Naked, outside, during the day…with Thai Bristow.
Who is also naked.
Is this my life?
Before I have a chance to rethink, I jog for the water.
Thai is in the water, hair wet, up to his waist—watching me.
Hungrily watching me jog naked into the surf; as is to be expected, there’s a lot of bouncing happening as I run.
I squeal as I hit the frigid water, and then throw myself into the waves. Under the water, stroking along the seafloor toward Thai.
Surface…
An inch from him.
Stand up, water streaming off me, the water is just above my navel.
His eyes rake over my body, then finally fix on mine. “You are…” He swallows hard. “You’re simply breathtaking, Delia.”
My eyes sting, blur.
Thai Bristow thinks I’m…breathtaking?
My body acts of its own accord—I find myself in his arms, my hand in his wet hair and the other on his face, and I’m kissing him.
My body nestles against his as if puzzle-made to fit.
I can’t breathe…
