“But I didn’t. Were you frightened?”
I swallow and tighten my lips, not wanting to admit that when he jumped off the side of the boat and pretended as if something bit his leg, causing him to go under, that yes, I was scared shitless.
“You’re an asshole.”
He shrugs just before hoisting himself back onto the boat.
I watch as rivulets of saltwater run down his bronze, muscular chest and washboard abs. Not for the first time I notice a few scars along his abdomen and arms. They look like burn marks but I don’t ask, out of politeness.
“You can ask me,” he says as if reading my mind.
Briefly, I wonder how he knew what I was thinking, but when my gaze catches his again, I realize it’s because he’s watching me just as intently as I’ve been watching him. I still find I can’t look into his eyes for too long because I begin to feel way too off balance.
“Are they from your job?” My voice is low, as if talking quietly will lessen the impact of the question.
“Yes.” He nods.
“I’m sorry.”
He looks at me quizzically, cocking his head to the side. “Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”
I blink before frowning. I start to say I’m apologizing for asking about the scars, but then remember he invited me to ask. Maybe the apology was for … “I’m sorry you were injured doing your job.”
“Injury is part of the job. No one becomes a firefighter and doesn’t expect to get burned by a fire at least once or twice.” He leans closer, so close our faces are only a few inches apart.
I find myself leaning closer as well. He smells like a mixture of saltwater and man. I catch the sight of a droplet of water just above his collarbone. It would only take another few inches for me to lean down and lick the water from his body. My mouth waters at the thought.
“Wanna know the secret?” he whispers, close to my ear.
“What’s that?”
“Learn to live with the burn,” he says before capturing my lips for our first kiss.
To say the kiss is potent would be an understatement.Hotdoesn’t even begin to describe it. More like searing. When I part my lips, allowing our tongues to touch for the first time, a feeling I’ve never felt before wells up in my body, starting from the soles of my feet. A feeling of excitement entangled with a deep yearning for more.
And Emanuel provides, pulling me in to deepen the kiss. He draws me closer, parting his legs so that my knees slide in between his, allowing us more proximity. His large, calloused hands brace the sides of my face, and his lips pull at mine, demanding more.
I’d kissed my ex-boyfriend for ten years, and not one time could I ever remember a kiss feeling like this.
Abruptly, Emanuel pulls back. His beautiful eyes hold a shimmer that hadn’t been there before the kiss. He searches my own eyes for something. Maybe trying to figure out what the hell just happened, as I was. But before either one of us can speak, he pulls back, stands, and jumps fully in the water once again, splashing me.
“You got my hair wet!” I yell.
He just chuckles. “Get your ass in then.”
A shiver runs through me as I stand.
“Hell no. Remove those shorts and T-shirt first. I want to see that sexy ass bikini you’re wearing underneath.”
Feeling desirable, and more importantly, safe, I lift the T-shirt and reveal the purple, green, and black African-print bikini top that comfortably holds my small breasts. Despite my less thanstackednature up top, Emanuel’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. This boosts my confidence even more as I unzip the denim shorts I wear and push them down over my hips, revealing the high waist bottoms of the swimsuit. I am almost taken aback by Emanuel’s reaction as he continues to wade in the clear blue water. Hunger is the only way I can describe the look in his eyes.
Self-consciously, I look down at my bottoms, making sure they are adjusted correctly. I run my hand alongside the gold strips of elastic that connect the front of the bottoms with the back, showing glimpses of the skin covering my hips.
“Get your ass in the water,” Emanuel growls, beckoning me to do just that.
I take a step forward and then leap headfirst into the water. I barely swim a few feet before I’m splashed by water.
“Emanuel!” I yell only to be met with his laughter. A sound I find myself wanting to hear more of.
