Damn, she has a nice rack…
Nope. Can’t have this on my phone. It’ll make it too tempting to give in and call her when I’m drunk and horny.
But I don’t delete it fast enough, because Blake—a very toplessBlake—manages to sneak a peek as she approaches me.
“Are you looking at porn?” she exclaims.
“No.” The picture disappears from the screen as I hit Delete.
“Somyboobs are a national emergency, but you can leer at phone boobs. Got it.”
“Relax, Logan. Someone sent a nude. I was deleting it.”
Her jaw drops. “Youdeletedit? Wow. Don’t ever tell her or you’ll destroy her self-esteem.”
“Make up your mind. Do you want me to leer at phone boobs or not?”
Snickering, she stalks past me, and her side boob grazes my arm.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Tits on my phone. Tits on my boat. God help me.
I shift my gaze back to the water, but it flits back to Blake as if drawn by a magnet. She saunters to the open bow and spreads a red-and-white-striped towel across the padded sundeck. Boobs out for the entire lake to see.
“Seriously, put those away.”
“You’re being ridiculous” is her response.
I can’t tell if she’s doing this on purpose. If she’stryingto get a reaction out of me. But she’s not even acknowledging my presence anymore. She lies down on the towel, stretches out on her back, and plops her sunglasses on her freckled nose.
“Your father’s gonna kill me,” I moan.
“Only if you tell him.”
Stifling a curse, I pick up her top and stalk to the bow. “Here,” I say, trying to hand her the bikini.
She rises on her elbows and peers up at me, blue eyes peeking out from the top of her shades. Her nipples are glistening. It’s the sunscreen, I know, but it makes them look wet. Like they’ve just beenlicked and sucked and—
“Take it,” I growl when she bats my hand away.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Is this turning you on or something?”
Frustration has me spitting out a retort I instantly regret. “Hardly. You think I haven’t seen a pair of tits before? Yours aren’t anything special.”
Blake stiffens for a moment before spitting back a curt, “Oh, fuck you.”
I don’t know why I said that. Her breasts are perfect.
Focusing on the water as if my life depends on it, I try to get my body under control by fishing for the coldest beer in the small cooler I brought with us.
“So who sent the nude?” Her tone is grudging, as if she doesn’t want to ask but can’t help herself. “Mrs. Brown?”
“No.” I don’t elaborate.
“Then who?” she pushes.
“Someone who heard I was in town.”
