Summer Indiscretions Page 7

  Yet we have the best restaurants in the world as well. How are women like me supposed to win with that working against us?

  Blake drops the bag and grabs my hands, putting my palms flat against his chest before wrapping his arms around me. “I can’t imagine anything ever getting in your way when you truly want something. You’re a force to be reckoned with, Mel. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  He hasn’t seen the way I fade around Thaddeus and take whatever he dishes out because I’m afraid I’ll be fired if I stand my ground. “Sometimes I feel like that. But sometimes I feel like a side character in my own life. Like I’m not the star, and it’s all my fault. If the audience was screaming at me to do something, I don’t even know what they’d be yelling. Hell, they’ve probably already changed the channel to find someone a little braver and more exciting. I hate that I quit back then, and I hate that I still feel like this now, when I’m older and smarter and should know better.” Telling Blake I wanted him was the most assertive thing I’ve done in a long, long time.

  Blake smiles and leans in. His lips are soft on my cheek, making me shiver all over. “Let’s see what we can do about making you feel a little more badass right now.” He leads me to a dock, where a fiftysomething man with long, thin hair scraped back into a skullet waits with a clipboard.

  “What’s this?” I take the proffered clipboard and flip through the one page of miniscule writing—a release form.

  “We’re going to do that.” Blake points toward the ocean where a couple of people are zooming through the air and diving under the water like dolphins, propelled by jets of water attached to their feet.

  “What is that?”

  “Flyboarding. Doesn’t it look awesome?” Blake grins but keeps his eyes on the people doing it.

  That’s one word for it. They’re out past the harbor, in deeper waters where I’m sure a few sharks are circling their feet and licking their lips in anticipation.

  Do sharks have lips?

  I fiddle with the page covered in legalese. “Why do we have to sign these? Isn’t it safe?”

  Skullet shakes his head. “It’s perfectly safe, but sometimes certain people ruin things for everyone. Spring breakers. This is just a way for the company to cover ourselves in case some dudebro decides to get fancy and hurts himself—or someone else—in the process. But we’ve never had an injury.”

  I try to keep my voice even. “And how long have you been operating?”

  “Eight months. But it’s a fairly new thing, so…” He turns back to his boat, fiddling with some cables.

  The waiver’s bold type and shouty caps warning that this activity can lead to injury or death don’t exactly give me warm fuzzies—especially when paired with the unconditional release of the company and its employees. I scan the page, and words like indemnification and damages jump out at me.

  “Hey. You still reading that?” Blake nudges my shoulder with his.

  “I like to actually read the things I sign.” Or pitch into the ocean without signing.

  He smiles. “I bet you’re one of those people who reads the terms and conditions when downloading music, aren’t you?”

  I sniff. “Of course. Who knows what you’re signing away? They could slip in a clause about taking your kidney or giving your download details to a reality television show that you didn’t realize you were signing up for.”

  “Because that would hold up in court.”

  “Shut up and let me finish.” Why can’t I keep a straight face around him? I focus on the page again, hoping he doesn’t notice my stupid smile.

  He taps the signature line with his pen. “These waivers are standard. Same as when you go zip-lining or for a routine procedure at the hospital.”

  “I’ve never done either.”

  He smiles. “And you won’t today, either. Come on, we can stay perfectly safe in our boring little bubbles, or we can get out there and tear things up.”

  I follow his finger, which points at the people already in the water. A little girl, no older than seven or eight, flips in and out of the water like a dolphin. She cuts graceful arcs in the air, squealing with delight while her grandmother floats twenty feet in the air on a jet of water. It looks like so much fun.

  I sign with a flourish and hand the clipboard back to the man on the boat, turning to poke Blake in the chest. “OK, but if I break something, you’re getting something broken.”

  Besides, if grandmas and little kids can do it, how hard can it be?

  * * *

  I’m going to drown with my ass hanging out of my shorts.

  My feet are locked into the heavy jet boots that are powered by the Jet Ski’s motor. The boots float, but they pull at my feet in a way that has claustrophobia nipping at my heels. The life jacket keeps me above water, but this is impossible. I roll to my back again, trying to hide my ass. I pull at the wet fabric of my surfer-style bathing-suit shorts, but the waistband clings to my hips for dear life.

  “Roll over!” Skullet calls, but the last thing I want is to be shot out of the water like this.

  The motor’s not as loud as I expected, but the vibrations are probably the only thing scaring away the ocean’s predators, so the rumbling sensation is vaguely comforting. Or it would be, if the force of the jet propulsion hadn’t torn my shorts down my hips.

  A shark’s going to bite off half my ass, and I’ll bleed to death in the ocean with an asymmetrical posterior. The thought drives my desire to make the jets work as soon as possible, so I renew my struggle—but the more I flail around trying to cover myself, the more power goes to the jets. Soon I’m being shot out of the water and slapped back against the surface like an orca having a seizure.

  Fortunately, one last violent tug gets my shorts firmly back in place, and the next thrust of the jets hits when my body is rigid—which is apparently the secret to flyboarding. I go from skimming the water like a torpedo to standing straight up.

  It’s like floating.

  Steadily, like a deep inhalation, I’m raised fifteen feet in the air and held. Holding perfectly still lest I screw it up, I cautiously meet Blake’s impressed gaze from the back of the Jet Ski. He went first, so he knows how difficult this is, but I wish we were both able to go at the same time…mostly because then there’d be less focus on me trying to do this.

  I bet you could see a lot of sharks from here.

  Shit! I flail, trying to see any sharks in my vicinity, and smack back to the water. It stings my skin and tweaks my neck hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

  I hate water, and I hate the operator, and I hate the grandma and child who made this look so damned easy.

  I hate the way I want to give up.

  I’m not a quitter. I never used to be. Maybe the past few years have seen some compromises that would make my younger self cringe, but that stops right now. I can do this.

  Frustration bubbles up and washes over me, and I use that emotion to straighten my legs and tighten my core. I soar twenty-five feet above the surface, holding steady until my celebratory air punch sends me shooting to the side, dunking me under the water again.

  I cough salty ocean water out of my lungs—eyes streaming, nose burning—and smooth the soaked tendrils of hair back toward my ponytail.

  Blake’s smile sends sparks skittering across my skin. I probably look like a drowned rat, but I’ve never felt more beautiful.

  Chapter 10

  Blake

  I still can’t wrap my head around Mel’s confession. She attacks life—and she proved it just now with the way she threw herself into flyboarding and crushed me at it.

  It’s hot as hell.

  By the time we get back to my hotel room, the salt and sand have dried on my skin, making me feel more than a little crusty. I swipe the card and lead the way inside, thoroughly uncomfortable.

  “Nice room.�
� Mel trails her hands over the table, the dresser, the foot of the bed. She does that a lot, I’ve noticed. A tactile woman.

  “Thanks.” Since Shawn paid for the airfare, I decided to treat myself to a little nicer room, but not swanky enough to break the bank. Still, the thread count is unbelievable, and I’m suddenly gripped with the urge to lay Melanie naked on the sheets.

  Focus, Blake. She said she was hungry on the way over here. She didn’t specify food, but that goes without saying, so I hand her the room service menu and try not to think with my dick. “They’ve got some awesome burgers here.”

  “Nice.” She fidgets with the menu but doesn’t look at it.

  “You could order something and have the shower while you wait. Or…” I trail off.

  “Or?” I can’t tell if the pink on her cheeks is from too much sun or a new blush.

  I take in her body—from her eyes to the tips of her toes and back again. I’m hard by the time my gaze meets hers. “Or, we could shower together and then eat.”

  She tosses the menu onto the dresser. “Showering together would save water.”

  “It’s pretty much the only responsible choice.” I walk close enough to invade her personal space.

  She bites her lip. “Conserving water saves innocent little sea creatures.”

  “Conservation is sexy as fuck.” I pull her close and slant my mouth over hers, tasting the salty warmth of her lips. I stroke down her spine and haul her hips against mine, pressing my hips against hers. She sighs like it’s a relief.

  Her fingers slip under my T-shirt and dance across my back with a lightness that makes me ache with want. I knead her ass, teasing the crease where it meets her thighs, frustrated by the clothing separating her skin from my touch.

  She must feel the same way, because she pulls back and tugs impatiently at my shirt. I strip for her and she kisses my chest, licking her way to my nipples.

  When her hot mouth takes one in, I freeze a little. I’m unused to this, but she could put that talented tongue anywhere on my body and I’d let her do whatever the hell she wanted.

  She’s warm against my palm, and I gently work her through her clothes until her breath catches. I peel off her shirt.

  “Let’s go into the bathroom,” she suggests as she undoes my trunks, and I pull her shorts down in response. Her eyes lock onto the head of my hard shaft as she removes my last article of clothing. She licks her lips and my cock twitches.

  “What are you thinking, Mel?”

  She takes off her top and frees her breasts, now paler than her arms and chest from all the sun she’s been getting. “I want you in my mouth. I want you inside me.” Her gaze meets mine. “Anywhere.”

  Christ. “Get in the shower. Make it whatever temperature you want.”

  She frowns. “What will you be doing?”

  “Grabbing all the condoms and joining you.”

  She grins and dashes into the bathroom. I grab the condoms I bought earlier. I take them to the bathroom in time to see her slip inside the glass stall. Steam rises and fogs the glass as the water pours down, hiding her body from mine.

  Fully aware I’m watching, she grabs a bottle of body wash and lathers it in her palms. She rubs it all over herself, making the air smell like almonds, and my erection grows even harder.

  I open the door to admire the show without a foggy piece of glass obscuring the suds slipping down her skin, slicking her breasts and thighs, dripping to the floor.

  Setting the condoms on the ledge, I pour some of the gel into my hands, then hold my hand out to capture some water. “Turn around.”

  She bares her back to me, and I massage the sweet-smelling foam all over it, mesmerized by the bubbles slipping down the crack of her ass.

  “Spread your legs.”

  She does, and I rub my slick hands up her inner thighs and over the swell of her ass. I push her forward to rinse the suds clean and turn her to suck the droplets of water from a pert nipple. She moans but pushes me back until I’m standing straight.

  She pours the body wash straight onto my chest. “You’re still dirty. My turn.” Her hands work steadily over my pecs and down my abs. A grin plays at her lips when she wraps her soapy hands around my shaft and slides up and down. “Mmm, Blake, you’re really dirty right here.”

  I grit my teeth. “Pretty filthy.”

  Continuing the hot, wet friction, she drops one hand to caress my balls. She slides her palm beneath them, stimulating the sensitive skin until they harden too.

  She pulls me forward into the stream of water, rinsing the soap away while she keeps working me until there’s not a bubble left on me. Her confidence is almost as sexy as the things she’s doing to me. She lowers herself to her knees and takes me in her mouth, keeping her gaze on mine, and I can’t look away. I grab her ponytail, winding it around my hand, but I let her set the pace and depth.

  God knows she’s doing just fine.

  “Melanie.”

  She sucks harder and raises her eyebrows in response. I’m glad two of the walls are tile, because the way I’m going to fuck her against them, glass wouldn’t stand a chance.

  “Stand up. Now.” My voice is raw and deep, and she trembles to her feet.

  I turn her so she’s facing the spout and caress her from behind, wrapping myself around her. I take her wrists and set her palms against the wall above her head before slipping my hands down her arms and working her nipples into tight buds. “Keep your hands there.”

  She nudges her ass against my cock but keeps her hands where I told her to.

  I nuzzle her neck. “Spread your legs for me, baby.”

  She does, and I take a step back to get a nice look while putting the condom on.

  Her skin glistens, and her legs shake just a bit in anticipation. The way her arms are raised exaggerates the curve of her back, sticking that ass out. This woman does things to me.

  She moans when I kiss the back of her neck as I reach past her to grab the detachable showerhead.

  “What are you doing?” She keeps her hands splayed on the wall, but she turns so her eyes blaze a few inches from mine while I test the water’s temperature on my wrist.

  “Making you feel good.” Satisfied with the temperature, I wrap an arm around her hips, position myself at her entrance, and press inside her as I turn the stream of water toward her clit.

  Her pussy quivers around me and her hips buck. “Oh my God.”

  I want to bury my face between her legs and devour her, but I want to feel her come around me more. I pull almost all the way out and fill her again, keeping the jets trained on her clit.

  “Holy shit.” She sags against me, spreading even more, letting me go deeper.

  With the water hitting her, I don’t have to bother with anything fancy. I keep the jet going where it’s supposed to and fuck her steadily, hard. Maybe too hard, but she slams back against me and moans every time, so I’m pretty sure she likes it.

  I snag one of her earlobes between my teeth and suck it, gently breathing into her ear while I pound and circle the stream of water over her clit.

  The way her legs keep tensing, I know she’s not going to last long. But I want to come with her, come inside her when she does, so I grind harder. My balls ache and tighten.

  So close.

  She goes rigid against me, not even breathing, and cries out. Her body rolls against mine.

  I get in three more thrusts before coming too. I drop the showerhead and wrap my arms around her.

  She wraps her arms around mine, holding me close as we breathe and come down joined together.

  She recovers first and reaches out to turn the water off. I hold the condom on and pull out. She moans when I do, and I kiss the top of her shoulder.

  “That was amazing,” I say.

  She stretches her arms. “I’ve never showered with
anyone before.”

  “Really?” It somehow pleases me that she chose to have this experience with me.

  “Mmm.” She turns, and I kiss her slow and deep. “I think I’ve been missing out.”

  I lean and toss the condom into the trash can. It’s not always like this. Hell, I can’t remember shower sex ever feeling this good, but I smile. “Yeah, you have.”

  “Can you hand me a towel, please?”

  I open the door and hand her a fluffy white robe from the rack, wrapping a towel around my waist. She wraps her hair up. “You still hungry, Mel?”

  “Famished.”

  God, she’s cute like this. We emerge from the bathroom with a cloud of steam, and I cross to the menu and sit with it on the bed. “I’m still in the mood for a burger.”

  She flops next to me, tucking the towel tighter on her hair. “I could definitely go for some red meat. Shelby has mostly seeds and things.” She reads over my shoulder and points at the classic bacon cheeseburger. “That one. No onions. Are you getting onion rings or fries for a side?”

  “Why?”

  “I want some of both, and if we each get one, we can share.”

  I can’t fault her logic. “Sounds good.” I call down and place our order while she flips through Netflix, looking for something for us to watch.

  “What are your shows?” she asks as soon as I hang up.

  “I haven’t really had time for much lately. I’ve been working a lot.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Are you one of those assholes who makes pretentious declarations like, ‘Oh, I don’t watch television. Oh, I don’t eat salt’?”

  I toss a pillow at her. “You know I’m not. The last couple months have kicked my ass, but they’re almost done. Then I’ll glut on all the shows I’ve put aside.”

  “And those shows are…?”

  “I’ve got a few seasons of Supernatural to catch up on, and I’ve been meaning to see Sense8 but never quite get around to it. I’ve heard some great things about Orphan Black too.”