Wearing nothing but a hot-pink bikini about a hundred feet in front of me is the woman who’s infiltrated my every thought. She’s lying on her stomach, feet in the air, swaying back and forth while she reads.
As I get closer, a spot of black ink catches my eye on the top of her right foot, and though I can’t make out the exact shape, I can see it in my mind: small black numbers that read “90%.” I filed the detail away in Halifax, along with all the other things I’mcataloging about Elizabeth Cameron, wondering what it means. Seeing it again feels intimate. Like being privy to a secret.
Her perfect, round ass, which lately I’ve only seen fitting into work pants extremely well, is now nearly on full display, and I’m practically running toward it. Her. Them. Because my friends are there, too, of course. When I nearly fall on my face for the third or fourth time, Leo catches the movement and lifts an eyebrow before standing from his chair to walk toward me.
“Hey, man. You made it. Thanks for bringing water. The girls packed their special drinks, but nothing to properly hydrate with.” He shrugs, clearly not surprised by this turn of events.
“Uh-huh,” I answer, my eyes not leaving the bright pink scrap of fabric I now see has little white daisies all over it. After handing Leo the cooler without so much as a glance in his direction, I beeline for Beth. “Hey, Neve.” I manage the greeting, also without looking at her. I know she’s here. Somewhere. But if she got abducted right this second, I would not be a reliable eyewitness. I couldn’t tell anyone what she’s wearing, whether she was sitting or standing, or literally anything else about her specific appearance at this moment.
“Be-B-Billie. H-hey.” I’m already sweating through my T-shirt, and it’s not because of the sun or the thirty-degree temperature. “What’s up?” There’s a one hundred percent chance I look and sound like an idiot right now, but I can’t be bothered to care when she slowly turns to lie on her side, lifting a hand to her sunglasses as she smiles up at me.
“Hi, Darcy. Glad you made it, buddy.” She gives me a thumbs-up while I wince at her use of that god-awful b-word. I’m not her buddy. Never was, never will be.
“Yeah,” I respond, and turn to lay my towel on the sand in an attempt to hide my scowl. When I straighten, it’s so I can take off my shirt and take the spot next to her. “Thanks for letting me tag along.” I lower my own sunglasses before bringing my handsto cradle the back of my head. I’m incredibly grateful I had the foresight to put on sunscreen before walking down here, or I’d be setting myself up for severe sunburn.
I register Neve’s giggle, and then all I hear are the sounds of the beach. The waves crashing, the wind blowing, and the white noise of people nearby, but not close enough to us for me to make out what they’re saying. It’s the perfect setup for a nap I don’t need, but that I allow myself to drift off into anyway.
CHAPTER 17
SUDDENLY, MY MOUTH WAS DRY, AND MY BIKINI BOTTOM WAS DECIDEDLY NOT.
BILLIE
I’d been psyching myself up to see Darcy since the moment I opened my eyes this morning, telling myself it’s just a regular day at the beach. I repeated his last name over and over so I wouldn’t mess up and call him Peter, like I always seem to want to do.
When I put on my bikini, I remembered how I’d told myself I’d buy something less revealing and far less pink this year, but of course, I forgot. I’m never letting Neve’s sister, Georgia, pick anything out for me to wear ever again.
I should have prepared better for the arrival of Peter Darcy in swim trunks and a faded T-shirt with his wavy, perfectly tousled hair. It made me weak at the knees, even though I was lying down. But his eyes scanning and memorizing every inch of my body as he looked down at me made it impossible to stay mad at my frilly little excuse for beachwear.
It was nice to have a temporary moment of control, where I had the upper hand. That is, until it was snatched away from me by stupidly perfect abs, and pecs, and that little trail ofblond hair from his navel to the gorgeous dick I can picture even through his swim trunks. He took off his shirt in a perfect, slow-motion swoop, placing his towel on the sand and sprawling down next to me, like we’ve done this a million times before.
Suddenly, my mouth was dry, and my bikini bottom was decidedly not.
The smell of his cologne mixed with whatever fancy sunscreen he must have put on was blown in my direction by the traitorous wind, and I swiftly went back to my previous position, lying on my stomach. I don’t need my best friend or her boyfriend taking note of how quickly my nipples hardened at the sight of a man’s torso. It’s pathetic.
Before I let my sunglasses fall back down, Neve’s giggle and “psst” force my gaze her way. She gestures to her own chest, circling around her boobs as she juts her chin toward the man next to me. Then she makes an exaggerated, shocked face, bringing one hand up to her face to hide her next silent words from Leo. “So hot,” she mouths at me, another little giggle escaping her.
“I heard that, Snow,” Leo says in a low, gruff voice I have no business hearing. And that’s precisely when I avert my eyes from the couple who is undoubtedly about to do something sweet and couple-y, only to have them land on Peter’s chest. On one pierced nipple. And then the other.
I clench my jaw, put my sunglasses back on, and pretend to read my smutty novel for the next thirty minutes while he falls asleep next to me, occasionally humming softly or shifting to scratch his nose, or his stomach, or his thigh.
Yep. I noteeverymove, because what else am I going to do with my time? Read beyond the one sentence I’ve been stuck on since he arrived? Unlikely.
Another hour into this nonsense, and after my kindle has locked for the third time due to my lack of flipping any pages, I decide I’ve had enough and head to the shore to dip my feet in. The water freezing, and while there are a few brave souls in past their belly buttons, they are either children, not from here, or accustomed to the frigid waters of the south shore.
My eye catches on a little girl learning to balance on her surfboard. Her laughter is infectious. “Mom, are you watching?” she asks after she manages to stand up for a few seconds, quickly toppling into the water. They high-five each other in matching wetsuits, and the kid gets back on the board for another round. I could never.
In my distracted state, I must miss whatever noise was being made behind me. I turn in time to see Peter running into the water, splashingeverywhere. By the time he’s taken three massive leaps into the ocean, he’s screaming so loudly, nearly the entire beach population is staring at him.
With eyes threatening to pop out of my head, I watch in horror as he freezes in place, still screaming bloody murder. I don’t even bother to try to hide my laughter. This is too good, though I’m starting to worry he’s going to stay there andliterallyfreeze.
But no, he makes a move to run out of the ice bath he’s found himself in, looking absolutely terrified. His movements are slower this time, though, given that he’s wading through water and probably can’t feel his feet anymore.
“Help me,” he wails once he’s about knee deep. I shake my head, unable to speak thanks to my laughing fit. “Oh my G-God.H-holy shit.” His words come out through clattering teeth, and a tear rolls down my cheek as I hold my stomach, watching on.
“That… was… incredible,” I sputter through my never-ending giggles.
“What the fuck, Beth? Why the hell is the water glacial?” He rubs his arms, his hands, any part of his body he can reach in an attempt to warm himself up.
