Wet (The Water's Edge #1) (24 page)

West sighed and shifted on the towel, lying back until his head was in my lap. “If we’re going to have a therapy session, I’m going to get in the proper position,” he joked, looking up.

I followed his gaze. Wispy cirrus clouds painted the sky with their pale brushstrokes.

I reclined back onto one of my hands and ran my fingers through his hair with the other. He leaned into my touch, and I repeated the motion, lightly scraping my nails against his scalp. He groaned.

“Keep that up, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Family history. Social security number. Where I hid the body.”

I paused, stilling my hand, and he squinted up at me. “Kidding.”

“You better be.”

Settling back against me again and closing his eyes, West took a deep breath before he started. “Okay, so, my parents. There’s not much to tell. Appearances are everything to them because they have money. And I wanted to please them, so I tried to fit the mold. Went to the right school, followed my stepdad into the family business — do you know who my parents are?”

I shook my head.

“Montgomery Golf? No? The company has a couple of different sides to it. From golf course design and management to golf clubs and golf accessories. It’s a rich man’s game, and my parents like to look the part. Picture catered parties and symphony halls and charity balls and — really, just about any excuse to gossip about the other rich assholes, but with better food and better clothes than most people. Don’t get me wrong, some of the men run companies, but a lot of them, like my father, are the heads of boards, and it’s the managers who do the real work.”

My mouth twisted. “So you grew up with money, and your parents liked nice things. I’m not seeing the problem here, West.”

He let out a dark chuckle. “I didn’t at first, either. I spent years going to pointless meetings, shaking the right hands, networking with the power players. And why? I hated it. It just took me awhile to realize that was okay. I didn’t have to take over the company one day. I could be myself, and that was enough.”

“What made you figure it out?” My fingers were still sifting through West’s short hair.

“Wyatt,” he said, a smile drifting over his face. “Every time I’d come down to visit him and his stupid beach bar, it was obvious how happy he was. Like, he loved getting up every morning and living his life here. I wanted that. That simple fucking everyday happiness.”

“So… what happened?”

“I figured he had the right idea and followed him. Told my parents, packed up my shit, and left Chicago and all that phony ass kissing behind. Decided to grow up and be a man and make my own money, not live off my parents’ hand-outs. Bought a boat. Figured out a way to make money with it. End of story.”

I studied him. The relaxed lines of his body as he sprawled across the towel. His strong jawline. His long fingers resting on his sculpted abs. His citrus and salt scent.

“It’s that simple?”

He nodded. “Yeah, it is. I love being on the water and the challenge of trying to catch the biggest fish. Finding a way to make other dudes pay for the gas and bait was genius. My friends are here. I own part of a fucking bar. Life’s pretty damn perfect if you ask me.”

“Do you miss it? The wealth and the perks that came with it?”

He dropped his head back to study me. Reaching up, he pulled my sunglasses off my face, looking me right in the eyes. “Nothing was genuine. How can you appreciate something — I mean, really, truly appreciate something you’ve never had to work for — something that’s just handed to you — something you don’t create or build or earn yourself?” He paused, and his blue-gray eyes moved over my face before locking on mine again, his gaze intense. “I wanted something that’s mine. Mine and nobody else’s.”

The air crackled between us, the slap of the water against the side of the boat sharply staccato. The humidity was tangible, pulled away by an errant breeze before settling back around our shoulders, urging us to give in to the heat building between us. A seagull floated overhead before diving into the water in search of its own lunch.

I let out a shaky breath and swallowed hard.

“Is that such a crazy dream?” he asked, his voice rough.

I traced his eyebrows, smoothing the furrows from his forehead. “No. It doesn’t sound crazy at all.”

West’s lips twitched, and he shifted off my lap to sit up and face me. “Enough of this serious bullshit. You want any of this watermelon before I eat it? I could only fit three slices.”

I rolled my eyes at the subject change. “Yeah, I’ll take one.”

West split the seedless fruit between us and took a big bite of one of his slices, a dribble of juice snaking a path down his chin.

“Know why I packed watermelon?”

I swallowed a mouthful, feeling some drip down my own chin. “Why?”

“’Cause of your shampoo. I looked in your shower. You always smell like watermelon, and now I find myself buying one every time I’m at the damn grocery store.”

I bit my lip to keep my smile contained. “You don’t like watermelon?”

He waited until I met his eyes. “It’s quickly becoming my favorite.”

I flushed and tried to change the subject. “Favorite color?”

“Blue. Really? You want to know this shit?”

I shrugged. “You said you wanted to get to know each other better.”

“Fine. Morning or night person?”

“Night. Pancakes or waffles?”

“Pancakes. Chocolate or vanilla?”

“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?”