A hand lands flat on my chest.
Natalia materializes out of nowhere, and she’s looking at this woman like she’s considering the most efficient way to dispose of a body, which, given her family, she might actually know.
“He’s taken.”
Two words. Bitten off clean. The redhead recoils, mutters something I don’t catch, and stalks away down the beach. I barely notice. I’m too busy looking down at Natalia’s hand splayed flat against my chest.
She doesn’t seem to realize it’s still there.
For one second neither of us moves. Her palm is warm against my skin, fingers spread, and the possessive little caveman part of my brain starts pounding on the bars of its cage.
She just told a stranger I’m taken.
My heart gives one hard, painful thud.
She follows my gaze a second later.
Her eyes go wide.
And she snatches her hand back like my skin burned her.
“Oh my god.” She buries her face in both palms. “I didn’t—that wasn’t—I don’t know why I did that.”
I’m grinning so wide my face hurts.
“Nat.”
“That was insane. We haven’t even talked about—I mean, you could have a girlfriend somewhere you don’t remember, and I just?—”
“Natalia.” I step close enough that we’re toe to toe. “I’ve told you before, there’s no way I have a girlfriend.”
She groans behind her hands.
“And for the record? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” I wrap my fingers lightly around her wrists, easing her hands down from her face until she has no choice but to look at me. “I say that as a guy with almost no memory, so technically the bar is low. Still pretty confident, though.”
She groans. I laugh.
I’m standing there watching her blush all the way down to her collarbone, and my brain does the math on its own: gorgeous woman, ocean right there, an hour ago she told me she’s never been in it.
I grab her hand and start walking toward the surf.
She resists immediately. “What are you doing?”
“You told me you’ve lived on this beach for two months and never gone in past your knees. Today’s the day that changes.”
“I don’t have a swimsuit.”
“You’re wearing a workout tank top and leggings. Close enough.”
“Johnny, the water is freezing. It’sNovember.”
“Then we’ll be quick.”
She’s still protesting when the first wave hits our ankles, and holy shit, she wasn’t kidding. The Atlantic in November is a full-body assault, cold enough to steal my breath, cold enough to make every inch of skin scream at once.
Natalia shrieks, this high startled sound I’ve never heard from her, and then she’s laughing, gripping my arm with both hands as a wave crashes into our thighs and tries to drag us sideways.
“Oh my god. This is terrible.”
