Wet (The Water's Edge #1) (3 page)

We reached the shore, and the dog bounded over, my shoe in his mouth. The guy frowned. “Yours?”

Huh?
I tore my eyes away from the cords of his neck and glanced at the furry behemoth again. “He’s not yours?”

“Not the dog. The shoe.”

“Oh. Yes,” I said dumbly.

“General Beauregard! Drop it,” he ordered. The dog whined but obeyed, dropping the shoe and watching us with sad, droopy eyes. “Good dog.” His voice warmed several degrees and filled with affection as he praised the animal.

I raised an eyebrow. “General Beauregard? Really?”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s a good, strong Southern name,” he countered, his own accent sounding only slightly Southern, more like it was acquired, not born and bred into him.

We stared at each other. I could finally see his eyes. They were beautiful — a clear blue with chips of gray mixed in, his thick eyelashes spiky from the ocean. I lifted myself higher, trying to get a closer view. He tilted his head, and his gaze drifted down my face, stopping on my mouth. My tongue responded, slipping out to lick my salty bottom lip.

“You know,” he said, “There are easier ways to get my attention.”

It took a second for me to realize his implication. I narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?” The tone of my voice should have been a warning to him, but he didn’t seem to catch it. I might have been horny, but I wasn’t desperate.

He shrugged. With torturing slowness, my body slid along his as he set me on my feet. I shivered from the loss of his warmth and crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hide my nipples. Standing on solid ground, his height became more obvious. My head came up to his chin, making me eye level with his throat. I shook my head at him and turned to look at the dog instead. “Egotistical ass,” I said under my breath, annoyed.

“You seriously thought I was drowning? In chest-deep water?”

“You seriously thought I was so overcome by lust, I attacked you in the ocean?” I mimicked his tone.

“It’s happened.”

I stared at him before rolling my eyes. Plopping down on the beach, I grabbed my wet shoes and with shaky hands tried to brush some of the sand from them. I was freezing.

He dropped to his haunches beside me, picking up my right foot. Long gentle fingers brushed the sand off my foot, taking a second to trace my tattoo. I had a paper airplane with a dotted line trailing it that made it look like it had flown in a loop. His finger followed the path of the plane, and I felt another shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature. He looked up at me as he worked my foot back into my shoe and tied the laces for me — double knots. “What’s it mean?”

“Escape,” I answered after a beat. It wasn’t the truth, but it’s what I wanted to do at the moment. I gazed at his shirtless body, my eyes drinking in his lean, ropy muscles and his sun-darkened skin. His torso was sculpted without being bulky, and a half-sleeve of Japanese style waves cascaded down his left arm, tattooed in black and gray. I couldn’t decide if my attraction to his body or my irritation with his ego bothered me more.

Scowling, I picked up my other shoe before he could help me with it too. I shoved my foot into it, not bothering to untie the laces in the first place. Scooping up my phone and ear buds, I stood and turned to leave. “You’re welcome, by the way,” I tossed over my shoulder.

He caught my elbow, stopping me. “For what?”

I spun back, yanking my arm free, annoyance winning out. “For trying to rescue you! Clearly, no one else was around to care if something happened to your sorry ass. I dragged myself out into the water, and I never go into the water, and you think it’s some dumb ploy—”

“Why don’t you go into the water?” he interrupted, head cocked to the side.

“I — I just don’t,” I stammered, flustered that he’d caught that.

“Scared?”

I glared back at him, refusing to answer.

“Really? Why?” He seemed amused.

“It’s not the water I’m scared of. It’s what I can’t see in the water that bothers me. Jellyfish, sharks, stingrays — who knows what else is in there just waiting to get you.”

He laughed. “Yeah, you’ll have to get over that.”

“Whatever. It’s not your problem.” I shrugged. Before he could say anything else to me, I popped my ear buds back in and started running. Not running away, I told myself. Just running to warm back up and get to Krispy Kreme faster.

My stomach growled on cue. I was starving. As I snuck a quick look back and saw him still watching me, I tried to convince myself doughnuts were the only thing I was craving.

CHAPTER 2

L
ater that night I stood in my room, fidgeting in front of the mirror and waiting for Rue to deliver her verdict. The blue halter gave me decent cleavage while leaving my upper back bare, and the white skirt was flirty but short. My makeup was smokier than normal, and I’d taken the time to straighten my hair and treat it with an anti-frizz serum that was probably not strong enough to withstand the evening humidity, but, really, that was asking for a miracle.

I adjusted my push-up bra. And, seriously, this bra was a push-up champion. Like, it wasn’t doing any on-the-knees girlie push-up. Oh, no, this bra was a one armed, feet spread —
hoorah!
— kind of push-up bra. My girls were looking as good as unsurgically possible. I was fervently hoping they would help compensate for my rusty flirting skills.

Rue inspected me, hand on her hip. She was stunning, of course. She had on a purple jersey dress that softly hugged her curves and made her waist seem tiny. To clarify, Rue always looked curvy and tiny-waisted. She was letting her twins go free tonight and easily had me beat by a good cup size. Still, she was rocking that dress something fierce. Her dark brown hair was hanging in big loose curls, and earlier in the week she had dyed the ends hot pink. It should have looked ridiculous, but on her, it was both girly and edgy. The pink ends brushed the tops of her breasts and drew attention there. The guys were going to be lining up for her tonight. And I hoped that whichever hottie picked her had a cute wingman who needed a little company too.

“I think the problem is the shoes,” she decided. She went over to my closet and rummaged around until she found a pair with taller heels. “Here, try these with it.”

I traded shoes and did a slow spin for her. She nodded, satisfied. “You’ll get laid. Probably someone more preppy than bad boy, though. You still look too wholesome.”

“I know. I can’t pull off the whole sex kitten vibe like you can,” I grumbled.

It was an old joke between us. But there was no real animosity. I tamed her down somewhat, and she pushed me out of my comfort zone. She got us into trouble and, well, yeah, she
always
got us into trouble, and I was there following right behind her. Full disclosure, she was the one to get us out of the trouble too. Proof? I’d been pulled over for speeding seven times since starting college. I’d been ticketed three times — the times I’d been in the car solo. When Rue was with me, she batted those pretty brown eyes of hers or turned on the waterworks, and once, the cop had apologized to us.

Rue had been pulled over six times and had yet to get a single fine.

She was the master. I was a terrible student.

“It’s a gift.” She shrugged, nonplussed.

I checked my purse one more time, making sure the condoms were tucked inside, along with my phone. I didn’t bother to put away the two discarded outfits Rue had vetoed earlier. The rule was no flings at the cottage. Hook ups were conducted strictly at the hotel or rental house of the guy. It made both clean up and exit strategy that much simpler.

We were going to Anchor, one of the two tourist bars on the island. Rue preferred it over the other place, Porthole, because the drinks were better, less watered down and higher quality alcohol. We’d waited until nine to start getting ready to make sure we’d have plenty of options by the time we got there.

Anchor was the island spot to see and be seen. It had a long curved bar, concert style lighting, and a large, two-level dance floor in the back. A live deejay played there most nights during the summer and on the weekends the rest of the year. As we walked in, one of the bartenders nodded at Rue, pointed at her hair, and gave her a thumbs-up. Rue smiled at him and motioned to me. “That’s Jason. If anyone gives you trouble, let him know, and he’ll take care of it for you.” The bartender had a shaved head and stubble, a look that worked for him, and I repeated his name to myself. He lifted his chin in acknowledgement and turned back to the girls almost falling over the bar trying to get his attention.

We snagged a table close to the dance floor so we could check out the scenery. The place wasn’t at capacity, since it was still late spring and tourist season was just starting, but there were over a hundred people out there. Rue was murmuring to me about a pair of guys wearing Clemson shirts over near the deejay booth when shots materialized in front of us. Rue turned to look at the two guys bearing gifts and lifted an eyebrow.

“You looked thirsty, and we thought we’d take care of that for you,” the one in the blue polo said, eyeing Rue like she was his last meal. “I’m Eric, and this is my cousin Jared. Your hair caught my eye. You seem spicy, and I love playing with fire. Dance with me?”

Rue glanced at me and winked. She downed her shot, grabbed Eric’s hand, and headed for the dance floor. I glanced at the guy who must be Jared. He grinned at me, his gaze lingering on my legs. At least he appreciated my best feature. “Wanna dance?”

Jared was tall and lanky with buzzed hair and a button down shirt rolled up his forearms. His nose appeared to have been broken before, and his smile was crooked but sweet. He was adorable. And really, I wasn’t feeling picky.

“I’m Sadie,” I told him, as we drank our shots and then followed after Rue and Eric.

Jared took my hand and led me to the middle of the dance floor. Pulling my hips close to him, he faced me and began to move to the music. He danced well for such a tall guy, not awkward at all. That boded well for later, I mused.

“Do you live here or are you visiting?” He leaned close to my ear to speak, his breath warming my neck.

“Visiting.” I lied without an ounce of guilt.

He nodded and then seemed content to drop the conversation. His hands slid around to the small of my back and dipped low, sitting right above my butt. My hands ran up his arms to his neck, and my hips swayed with the beat of the techno club music. His hair was surprisingly soft considering its short length, and he smelled good, like expensive cologne. I sighed and shifted a little closer, so our hips were almost touching. I’d forgotten how fun this part of being single was.

Rue walked past with Eric, and she flashed me a thumbs-up sign. I grinned at her and then turned back to Jared. We danced for over an hour, watching each other through half-closed eyes. Thank God he wasn’t one of those guys who made weird faces while he danced or checked out other women the whole time. He focused on me.

The song changed, and he spun me around, pulling my butt flush to his hips and grinding with me. His erection grew and pressed into me through his pants. I smiled to myself and rubbed against him, dipping low and slowly shimmying back up. A deep groan vibrated through his chest against my back. His fingers tightened on my hips, and he leaned down and brushed his lips over the shell of my ear. I shivered and melted back against him.

When the song faded, we headed to the bar, threading our way through the crowd. Jared caught the bartender’s attention, and the man brought us bottles of Yeungling. Jared hadn’t even checked with me first. I tried not to be irked and reminded myself it wasn’t his manners I was interested in. Priorities. He smelled good, wasn’t sweating like a pig even after all that dancing — another good indicator for later — and he was buying. So far, so good.

The pair of barstools we roosted on next to each other sat close enough my leg was pressed against his. His hand on my lower back was warm and rubbed lazy circles while we exchanged basic info. He was a grad student taking a vacation before starting a research project this summer at Clemson, only here for two more days. Perfect.

He stared at my mouth as I tipped my bottle up and swallowed the last of my beer, following the line of my exposed skin down my neck to the valley of my cleavage. I lowered the bottle, drawing out the motion. He made a noise in his throat, and his arm tightened around my back. Leaning over, he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just below my ear. My eyes drifted closed. God, it felt good to be touched again.

“You want to come back to my place for awhile? My room has a great view of the ocean.” His voice was huskier than before.

I nodded as I slipped off the stool, not even caring that his line was lame. We both knew what was going to happen. Jason the bartender caught my eye as I headed out the door, sending a text to Rue as I walked. I dipped my head to let him know I was okay, and he winked back in acknowledgement.

Jared was staying at the resort, and the ride to the hotel was relatively short. He put his hand on my leg as he drove us back and with one finger traced a meandering path up and down my thigh, flirting with the hem of my skirt.

When we got to the elevator, we stood in the back and kissed softly, experimentally, behind an elderly couple who were oblivious to our actions. His hand cupped the back of my head and tangled in my hair. I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned into him, his lips moving over mine, tasting me with the slow slide of his tongue. We didn’t even pause when the couple got off two floors below our stop.

After fumbling with the key card in the slot, Jared pulled me inside and pressed me to the back of the door, not going any farther into the room. He shoved both hands into my hair, tilted my head to the side and started to devour my mouth, his tongue probing everywhere at once. The urgency caught me off guard, and I dropped my purse at my feet, but I tried to go with it, running my hands down his chest and slipping them under his shirt to grab his sides.

“Oh, Christ, you’re so hot,” he murmured, licking down my neck while his busy hands reached for the hem of my shirt and yanked it over my head. Apparently, we were in a hurry. His hands rushed up to capture my breasts, squeezing them together and pushing the tops up. He nuzzled into them, placing sloppy kisses as he went. It was like he was trying to touch every part he exposed. Neck, check. Cleavage, check. Pulling the lacy cups down, he sucked a nipple into his mouth, while pinching the other one to the point of pain. I winced and removed his hand, which he seemed to take as a sign, because that hand dropped to my thigh, before sliding back up to my panties. His fingers rubbed the lace he found there, his middle finger pressing into my folds. Okay, that felt good. Now we were getting somewhere.