Wet (The Water's Edge #1) (25 page)

“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.

We ate at each other, not bothering to pause for breath, and when his hands cupped my ass, lifting me and urging me to wrap my legs fully around his waist, I groaned with satisfaction, pressing my hips against him, desperate for friction. I nipped his lower lip, pausing to steal a breath, and he rested his forehead against mine, his beautiful eyes closed. Bending my head, I ran my tongue down his neck and trailed kisses along his shoulder as my hands explored his upper back, kneading his hard muscles and feeling them flex in response. Changing directions, I ran my palms up his neck, forcing his head back, and dug my fingers into his scalp until he opened his eyes. He groaned.

“I didn’t bring you out here for this.”

He rolled his hips, and I couldn’t answer, except to squeeze him tighter with my thighs.

I moved my lips to his ear. “Why the fuck not?”

His lip curled, and he tugged on my braid, carving a few inches between us. He took a deep breath, and his chest expanded with the movement, pressing into my breasts.

“I was serious earlier. I really do want to get to know you better — not just in the carnal sense. But, fuck, if you don’t make me forget all my noble intentions.”

“I like your intentions. I like your mouth too. Can’t we do both?” I was shameless as I squirmed against him.

He swore long and hard as he lowered me to my feet. “I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t have a damn condom here, babe.”

A rustling noise interrupted my response, and we turned to see General Beauregard nosing the now empty Krispy Kreme box across the deck. West moved around me, hollering a sharp reprimand at the dog, who beat a quick escape to the front of the boat. After tossing the remains of our lunch back in the cooler, West returned to my side, hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me to him, and I rested my arms against his tempting chest.

He lifted a hand and cupped the side of my face. “You — you’re so fucking sexy right now with your lips all swollen from my kisses. You make me forget everything else.”

I gripped his biceps, one inked and one not, and leaned my cheek into his palm. “What are you forgetting? Do you have to be somewhere?”

“I just have to bartend tonight — fuck! What time is it?”

Leaning over to grab his phone off the console’s dash, he powered the screen on, checked the time, and groaned.

“We have to head back if I’m going to make the start of my shift.”

I frowned, not ready for our time together to end.

He dipped his head, dropping a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Come with me tonight. Hang out at the bar.”

I sighed. The man did not know how to ask.

But he sure as hell knew how to kiss. Which was more important.

“And watch you flirt with half-dressed girls for tips? That sounds fun.”

“So I can flirt with
you
.”

I squeezed his tattooed arm. “Need some practice?”

“Not really.”

His ego was truly boundless.

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.” I tapped my chin for effect.

West’s smirk was too arrogant for my liking, and I left him in suspense for the time being. Turning around, I plopped back down into a bean bag. He was right. It was the best seat on the boat.

Muttering something I couldn’t hear under his breath, West positioned himself behind the console and started up his wannabe yacht, powering us back to reality. I settled farther into the vinyl and closed my eyes against the brutal wind rushing past me, content and happier than I remembered being in a long time.

The next thing I knew, West was shaking my shoulder, waking me up. Disoriented, I sat up and tried to regain my bearings.

We were back at the marina.

Shit, I’d fallen asleep. Again. I swiped at my mouth, checking for drool.

As I got to my feet, the bean bag made an awful peeling sound as it fell away from me. My sweat had glued it to me, and I was pretty sure I left a layer of skin behind on it.

“Sorry ’bout that.” I cringed.

“My fault,” West offered. “I don’t normally bore my dates to sleep.”

I ducked my head in embarrassment and made a show of gathering up my bag. As West helped me over the side of the boat and onto the dock, General Beauregard patiently waited, leash pooled at his feet and his tail wagging. We made our way back to the parking lot, and that traitorous dog walked beside West the whole time, never once even tugging against the leash.

“So he behaves for you, and he’s a heathen for me?” I nodded at the furry creature responsible for the ache in my shin.

“He recognizes authority and responds to it. He was testing you.”

“Well, I don’t think I passed,” I said.

“That’s okay. He’s not the one you need to worry about responding to you.”

I lifted my eyebrows at him, not following him at all.

West ran his eyes down my bikini-clad figure and laughed. “You want to check out my response?” He dropped the cooler with a loud bang on the aluminum walkway and set the beach bag on top it, before taking mine and putting it with his. He tugged my hips forward until our thighs brushed and dropped his chin. His fingers dug in, until nothing but Lycra and nylon fabric separated us.

Oh yeah, he responded to me.

And if size mattered, then I was impressed.

Cheeks heating, I put my hands on his chest, creating a little space. General Beauregard read my mind and nosed in between us.

“I’m not ready for this date to end,” West admitted, one hand coming up to smooth my tangled hair off my face, trying to tuck the wind-snarled strands behind my ear. “Come to the Wreck with me.”

West’s skin sizzled against mine, and I couldn’t help sliding my hands up to his shoulders and behind his neck. My breathing was faster when I raised my eyes to his. “Would that be our second date then?”

He tilted his head, and his eyes followed the path of his fingers down my neck. “Does it matter?”

He said nothing physical on the first date. If we could skip ahead to our second…

I licked my lips. “Maybe.”

His eyes flickered down to my mouth, and his hand gripped the back of my neck, forcing me to look up at him. He was grinning at me.

“I know what you’re thinking. The bar will abso-
fucking-
lutely be our second date.”

CHAPTER 15

O
ur second date kind of sucked. Yeah, it was fun to sit on a barstool and stare at West and watch his ass shake when he mixed cocktails and bent over to scoop up grog. It was far less amusing watching all the ladies, and I use that term loosely, offer themselves up to him as not-so-virgin sacrifices. The Wreck clearly did not have self-respect on tap. I sighed as a girl just happened to spill her drink down her shirt. A sheer white tank top. Her big doe eyes widened as she pressed the cocktail napkin to her breast, rubbing at the damp spot until her nipple hardened. Oh, look! West had more napkins to save the day.

How nice.

West sent me a pained look and rolled his eyes. The girl looked barely legal as it was. It was like a guppy taunting a shark.

Stupid girl.

Sharks like to chase their prey.

Needing a break from all the calculated desperation clogging the bar area, I escaped to the bathroom. The stall I picked had a working lock — thank God for small favors — and I forced myself to take a deep cleansing breath as I sat there. Okay, yeah, that was poor planning on my part, since the bathroom reeked of covert cigarettes, drugstore perfume, and stale urine, but it was the thought that counted.

Like the rest of the bar, the bathroom was covered in graffiti. I never understood how people always just seemed to have Sharpies handy when they felt like marking their territory. I looked over the scribbled messages that peppered the wall.

Ohmygod — West lives up to the hype, every inch of it! <3 Jaymie

Wyatt is mine 4ever.
The
mine
had been crossed out and
Kim’s
was written above it.

Right below that it said,
Kim’s a slut-faced hoebag.
Huh, eloquent.

Several seemed to echo the popular sentiment,
West is so hot
.

I spotted a bubble-lettered,
Theo is a sweetheart
, which probably wasn’t what he was hoping the girls bathroom said about him, considering the other notes about male anatomy it was tucked between.

But what started to piss me off was the drawing of an erect cock with the words,
West
and
life-sized
scrawled next to it. Other inscriptions saying,
agreed!
and
totally!
and
yum!
had arrows pointing to the image.

The artist was accurate too. Whoever the slut-faced hoebag was.

I did a quick survey of the other wall of the cramped stall and saw my date for the evening was the star attraction and, boy, did he shine.

Just as I started to flush and rearrange my bikini bottoms under my dress, I heard two sets of footsteps echo off the stained concrete floor.

“Amber, did you see that hopeless blonde that’s been hovering at the bar all night? I think West feels bad for her or something, he keeps going to check on her.”

“Yeah, but I asked him about it. He said she was his
date
!” Her sarcastic tone conveyed how ridiculous she considered that. They snickered and the sound of running water gurgling in the sink did little to muffle their words.

I stilled, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“She doesn’t even look like she’s taken a shower today.”

“I know! And her skin looks creepy under the lights! Maybe West had too many shots or something tonight. He has better standards than that. It’s an insult to all of us who’ve come before her.”

They dissolved into laughter, and the water turned off.

“Let’s try offering him a combo. He’s gone for it before.”

“Mmm, you know I love a good BOGO deal, Tipper. It’s worth a try. I think his
date’s
disappeared anyway. She must have gotten the hint.”

Their laughter faded and a hollow
thunk
of the door closing signaled their exit.

Wow.

Just — wow.

My mind whirled, and I was annoyed I hadn’t been able to see them through the crack between the stall door and the wall. How many other girls out there had already screwed my West? I made a face as I flushed the toilet, berating myself for letting things with him go past a quick fuck-and-duck.

I finished adjusting my admittedly wrinkled dress, opened the stall door with more force than necessary, and peered at myself in the crappy mirror. What the hell had that slut said about my skin?

Oh.

Oh!

I looked down at my arm, pressed the fingers of my other hand onto my skin, and let go. Five fingerprints glowed white before returning to an angry, lobster-red hue. The skin around my eyes seemed okay, thanks to the protection my gold-rimmed aviators had provided, but the rest of me looked almost fluorescent, like a raccoon in reverse. My hair was crinkled like old straw, frizzed and barely contained by my sad excuse for a braid.

I
might
have been so caught up in West earlier that I had forgotten sunscreen. And to look in a mirror once we got off the boat.

Maybe. Possibly.

No wonder those girls had been mocking me. I looked like a hot mess. Like, roasted.

Running a cautious fingertip over my shoulder, the tenderness of my skin confirmed the extent of my sunburn. I needed to roll like a pig in a puddle of aloe, stat.

The time had come to call this date a failure and make a quick exit, only I didn’t have my Wrangler. We’d dropped off the dog and picnic supplies at West’s place and come straight here in his oversized truck.

Twisting to see the back of my head, I finger combed my hair as best I could, letting it fall around my face to try to hide my Ray-Ban tan lines. Then I took the coward’s way out and sent West a text that I wasn’t feeling well and was taking a cab back home.

Slipping my tote bag over my shoulder, I skirted the perimeter of the bar, escaping out the front doors without looking back. I was standing on the front sidewalk and searching for the number of the cab company on my phone when it was suddenly snatched right out of my hands.

I gasped, taking a step back, and tucked my bag to my side.

“Running away?”

How the fuck had West gotten out of there so fast?

I dropped my gaze and let my hair hide my eyes, trying to disguise the worst of the damage.

“Yeah, I think I got a little too much sun,” I mumbled, not wanting to meet his eyes. Even though it was after eight, the sun was just beginning its descent, and there was still plenty of daylight.

He hooked my hip with his hand and tugged me closer. Using his free hand, he tipped my chin up, exposing my face. Eyes widening, he touched my cheek with the tip of his finger, wincing as he removed it. “Shit, Sadie, you’ve got to be in pain. Hold on, let me tell Wyatt I’ve got to get you home.”