He turned his rock over, rubbing his thumb over the eyes he’d drawn. “One can never be too prepared.” He paused, flipping his rock over again. His mouth tightened, and then he gave it a dissatisfied shake of his head and flung it into the ocean.
I gaped at the small splash it made before turning to him.
“Why did you do that?” I asked.
“He was a disgrace.” He kept his attention on the ocean before he turned his grin toward my rock. “The only reason I’m allowing Pebblesworth to live is because you already named him.”
I sucked in a breath, clutching Pebblesworth tighter to my chest. “Okay, one, Pebblesworth is a female. And two, if you even consider coming after her, I’ll?—”
My threat died on my lips when he lunged.
Grinning like the troublemaking fae he was, he pinned my wrist with one hand and tugged Pebblesworth free with the other. I twisted, but his weight held me firm.
Fine. If brute force wouldn’t work, technique would.
I braced my heel in the sand, shifted my hips, and hooked my leg around his in a sweep. Surprise flashed across his features a beat before I rolled us with momentum and training, carrying me to the top. His back hit the sand with a thud, and I freed Pebblesworth from his hand.
He barked out a laugh, breathless but still determined. “Cheater.”
“I prefer to be called skilled,” I said, straddling him in triumph. “Do try to keep up, warrior.”
His grin widened, white teeth against the splatter of pink sand across his jaw. “Oh, I’m keeping up all right.”
He surged again, forcing me to fight for balance, both of us caught somewhere between laughing and catching our breath. His hands clasped my hips, and I leaned down until our noses almost touched.
The air between us grew thin. Still playful but sharpened by something more primal. My chest rose against his. His grip tightened as his tongue flicked across his lips.
I brushed my lips over his. Just a small taste. His breath hitched before he pulled himself up, one hand cradling my back, the other braced behind my head. His kiss was urgent, demanding. Heat flared between us, the grit of sand forgotten, as his lips moved over mine. Coaxing, claiming, devouring.
For blissful beats, there was nothing beyond him. His hands. His mouth. The very earth seemed to still while blood rushed in my ears.
Then Brenton froze, his hands still holding me as he quietly drew back.
“Callan’s back,” he muttered.
I turned to watch the distant boat slowly bob toward us.
He muttered something under his breath, then swept me up in one easy motion. Pebblesworth almost tumbled from my hand as he strode us into the water.
“Brenton—” But it was too late.
The ocean swallowed us both in a shocking rush of cold, stealing my laughter as well as my breath.
We broke the surface. I was sputtering while he grinned wide and shameless.
“You needed to cool off,” he said, his tone smug.
“Did I?” I circled him slowly in the waist-deep water, pretending to yield.
His smile softened, bashful, almost youthful. “Fine. I didn’t want Alastor smelling your arousal.” His gaze raked over me, his voice rough. “That scent is only for me.”
Heat pulled deep in my belly, fierce and undeniable, his claim striking something primal in me. The water did nothing to cool the fire he’d stoked.
Yet I needed to retaliate for him tossing me in the water.
When he drew his gaze to the incoming boat, I ducked low, hooked my arm under his, and kicked off the sand. Momentum dragged him under the next wave.
He came out laughing with his hair plastered to his face. “That was dirty.”
