Predictably, he tried to lock me out, and he yelped in terror as I exploded through the door like I owned the place.
“Dude! It was a joke, relax!” He was babbling, holding up his hands and backing away from me.
He was so small. Just a little pipsqueak, and I forced down my amusement at the fact that he felt brave enough to fuck with me. I wasn’t donebeing pissed with him. No time to admire the giant balls he must have hiding under those Hawaiian swim trunks.
Ignoring his protests, I crowded forward until he was backed up against the wall, smack dab between the black and white portraits of Mark Foo and Keala Kennelly.
I slammed him against the wall by his throat and marveled at how easily my hand swallowed him whole.
“Jesus, dude! I’m sorry, ok!?” He was kicking his feet and clawing at my hand as I watched him struggle beneath my grip. I stared, fascinated, as he scraped his blunt fingernails over my skin, carving deep red marks into my wrist.
I'd avoided people since the accident, soeven though his marks hurt, they were oddly comforting.
They were better than feeling nothing.
Now that I had him pinned, I took a second to really look at him.
He had a mop of golden hair that had a few sun-bleached strands poking out.
His cheeks, which were currently flushed pink from the physical exertion, were dusted with a light smattering of freckles. His hazel eyes had looked blue outside but were now leaning toward a soft green. Each eye was lined in thick dark lashes. I was so close I could nearly count them.
There was a drop of saltwater on his pouty, pink lips, and I watched his tongue dart out to lick it off as he continued to buck and arch against my ironclad grip.
“You think it’s cool to drop in on someone else’s wave?” I asked, my voice low and calm. The more he struggled, the tighter I squeezed, relishing in the way his pink cheeks began to turn an alarming shade of red.
He coughed and shook his head.
“No, I just… I didn’t know how else to get your attention!” he croaked. I could feel his heartbeat in my fingertips, and I forced myself to let up a bit so hecould breathe.
“You have my attention now,” I growled, and his cheeks turned an even deeper shade of crimson. His skin was flushed and hot beneath my palm, and he squirmed again, though he seemed less desperate now.
He was looking at me in a way that suddenly made me feel off balance. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but my heart skipped a beat.
“Listen…” He coughed again, and I reflexively backed off a little more, letting him take in a big gulp of air he clearly needed. “I need your help. You want to surf on my property; it’s a win-win.”
“I don’t need your permission to surf here. You can’t stop me,” I pointed out, tilting my head toward his prone, sea-slick form. He was hairless and lean.
So… young and…vibrant.
My throat caught, and I let out a slow breath through my nose, pushing back the ever-present trauma of the accident that haunted my every waking moment.
“I’ll call the cops!”
I barked out a laugh and leaned in closer to him, enjoying the way the color in his cheeks continued to deepen at my proximity. He smelled…amazing.Like the ocean and sunscreen… but also something more masculine and raw. Something that I was pretty sure was just his natural scent. I resisted the sudden urge to lean in closer to inhale.
Instead, I growled, “Go for it, kid. They’re not gonna do shit.”
His expression flickered from angry to frustrated to devastated and then, finally, defeat.
He sort of deflated against the wall and hung his head.
I should have felt happy that I won.
But something about watching all the fire melt out of him just pissed me off even more. It reminded me too much of myself and everything I lost the day that wave killed Jake Whittling.
“That’s it? You’re giving up?” I found myself saying, my tone much more accusatory than it should have been.
His head whipped up, and he narrowed his eyes on me.
