“You’re trouble.” He shakes his head, then turns to the dry bag.
I sit up, adjust my bathing suit, and put some space between our bodies. My bottoms feel sticky and wet and it sends a flash of horny annoyance through me. I reluctantly take the mask and snorkel when he hands it over. Against my better judgement, I’m really curious about what he wants to show me.
He helps me up and leads me toward the shoreline. I’m addicted to the feeling of his hands on me. The warm water laps at my ankles as I step into the fins he holds in place. It’s becoming natural, the ritual of donning my gear. I love the sight of him on his knees, the graze of his hand against the sole of my foot.
“You’re not afraid of anything, are you?” Steven asks with a cocky grin. All my fears about death and wasted time claw at my throat, but that isn’t what he’s asking. This new version of me has to match his energy—there’s no way I’m backing down.
“Fearless,” I grin.
“Good, they won’t bite. Just stay close.”
Whatwon’t bite? Anxiety starts to creep in, but Steven dives into the surf and I have no choice but to follow.
“We’re heading to those rocks.”
I flash him the ‘Okay’ sign and we pop our heads beneath the water.
Everywhere I look are splashes of color, schools of fish winking silver and bright, corals and sea sponges waving with the current.
Steven humors me, swimming patiently at my pace, inching us closer to what he wants to see. I could spend hours like this, breathing through a plastic tube, watching the show.
I can see him smiling around his mouthpiece as we approach the shadowy cluster of rocks. I imagine him as a young boy, growing up near the ocean, falling in love with sea turtles and looking out for mermaids.
He reaches for my hand then signals for me to pay attention. He points toward the deep blue stretched out in front of usand I scan with my eyes until I see it. I gasp through my snorkel, inhaling salty ocean water, and cough hard, breaking the surface. Steven pops up beside me, gently pounding on my back to clear my lungs.
“Are you okay?” he asks as I catch my breath, rubbing my chest with small circles.
“Yes,” I rasp, then take another deep, clear breath. “Was that—”
“A black-tipped reef shark.” Steven grins, one dimple digging deep into his cheek.
My eyes widen and I look back toward the gray shadow a few yards away.
“It won’t bite us?” I ask, heart racing and the small curve of a smile tugging at my lips.
“No. But we’ll still respect their space. Do you want to keep looking?”
“Yes,” I say, surprising myself. “Are there more?”
I duck back under the water and we swim a little closer. The shark is probably about four feet long, gray with a white belly and black edges on its fins. I can only see one of its eyes, strangely round and bulbous with a long pupil flicking back and forth.
A thrill of fear tickles my belly, but I trust Steven when he says it won’t hurt me. It hovers over the sandy bottom, swiveling its body like a snake. I’m fascinated. My senses are on high alert but it makes me feel more present—more alive.
We see two more sharks and they affect me the same way. When we return to the beach, I’m a tangle of adrenaline and endorphins. Even though I’d been perfectly safe, my body reactslike I just survived a brush with danger. Everything is more intense—sounds, colors, emotions.
I grin. “That was incredible.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
We’re standing at the edge of the surf. Our chests are millimeters apart, both rising and falling rapidly. I can’t think around the tingling all over my body.
I survived swimming with sharks and now I need to fuck this man or I will die.
I reach up for him. He supports my ass as I jump up and tighten my legs around his waist. Our kiss is salty, warm, and wet. His lips are soft and swell deliciously beneath my teeth.
I don’t care how small the island is. I don’t care about sand or that someone might see. I want him to lay me down and take me right here on the beach.
I know he feels it too. The evidence is pressing against me, hard and insistent.
