“It’s so cold!” I shout, all but pouting. He clears his throat, guiding my gaze to his hands holding his jacket, and I shrug. I step out, allowing him to slide the jacket on, and I immediatelymoan with my eyes closed. He smells salty and musky, a mix between smoky wood and the sea. It blends perfectly with the crash of the waves and the distant shouts of people still celebrating the New Year.
“This smells delicious,” I mutter, his deep chuckle shaking me awake.
“Get over yourself. We already knew you had good taste. Look at me.” I turn around, showing him my body and almost falling from everything spinning.
“Come on, Hales. Let’s go for a walk.”
“I love that you call me that,” I whisper against his chest as he drapes an arm around me and walks us toward the water. I’m dragging my feet through the sand and cringing at the feel. Unfortunately for me and everyone around me who loves the beach, I hate the sand. Ihateit. With a passion. But I’m also not going to act like a spoiled, high maintenance girl, so here I am. I also dislike spontaneous shit. If he would’ve told me we were going to do this, I would have prepared and brought different shoes.
The cool breeze caresses my cheeks, and I hope it cools me down from the outside in. Not enough for him not to notice something is bothering me, though. “What’s wrong?” he asks, stopping in his tracks.
“Nothing.” I try to keep walking, but he pulls me back, pinning me between his chest and his arm.
“I don’t know if you know this, but you’re a bad liar, Hales.”
“I hate lies.” I’d rather be hurt with the truth than stand in comfort with a lie that will remove the rug from under me later.
“That is true. So let’s try that again. What’s wrong?” he asks, searching my eyes. He doesn’t seem annoyed and truly doesn’t seem like it’s bothering him that something is bugging me. I’m not usually one for needing things to be fixed. I’m usually the fixer in the group, the one who takes other’s problems as my ownand then wonders why the hell I’m so exhausted all the time. It’s taxing. But Asher asking me what’s bothering me and not taking a no for an answer might be my new Holy Grail.
“I hate the sand,” I finally say with an exasperated breath. “These shoes don’t really screamwalk in the sand after dancing and drinking for hoursand I—ah!”
I’m upside down.
I’m over his shoulder, ass in the air, completely upside down.
“What are you doing?” I try to kick my feet, but it’s in vain, because he’s solid as a rock and damn strong too.
“You don’t like the sand. Not a problem.” He keeps walking toward the water.
“I’m not going swimming in that cold ass water, Asher Hunter.”
He chuckles and carries on.
“I’m serious, Asher. Do not put me in that water.” I can’t see how far from the water we are. That’s partially because it’s dark; there are no lights allowed at night on Amelia Island because they disrupt the sea turtles nesting and navigation. Plus, his giant body is blocking the view. I’m still bouncing on his shoulders like he is a damn rollercoaster. When I said I wanted to ride him, this is not what I meant.
“You don’t need to know how to swim. I can rescue you, remember?” The waves sound a lot closer, and I’m about to lose my shit on this man.
“Put me down!” I shout again, and maybe it’s the anger behind my words that does it, but he stops and slides me down—softly, easily, tenderly. Not to the sand, but to his feet. It’s so controlled, it feels like he does it in slow motion. I’m acutely aware of how close we are to each other, and my little pent up breaths remind me entirely of our time last year. Reminds my clit too.
“I don’t want to get in the water,” I declare.
He nods, hearing the seriousness behind my tone. He knows I’m not playing, and I like that he’s taking his time to respect it. “Why?”
“Because it’s dark, and cold, and we didn’t plan for this.”
“It is dark, I’ll give you that. But it’s not that cold in Florida, and you’re right, we didn’t plan for this.” He rakes his fingers through my hair, detangling it as he slides them down. “Do you always live your life like this? With thoughtfully designed plans?”
“What do you mean?” I play coy. I have to, because how is this man seeing directly into my soul? Into my biggest weakness? Into my biggest flaw?
Without a plan, everything fails.
I was called rigid for so long growing up, and I can’t shake it. It’s the only way for me to control my life as much as I can: by making plans and sticking to them. Hell, actually, Asher has been the biggest surprise in my life yet. Maybe that’s why I’m so frazzled by him half the time.
“Do you always need to plan for things? Is that why you wanted us to lay our relationship out in the open? For you to know the plan?”
I nod and look at his dark eyes, hoping he can see the vulnerability I’m about to share. “I like to know what to expect,” I reply.
"From what?” he asks, his hand sliding up my back slowly between his jacket and my dress, leaving goosebumps and want in its wake.
