“What?” I have some great ideas as well. They involve his lips back on mine.
“Remember, one of your risks is skinny-dipping.”
I smile, butterflies in my heart. “I already checked that off the list, Chase.”
“It doesn’t count in the pool. It has to be in the ocean, Olivia.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.” He downs the rest of his glass of champagne, stands up, and offers me his hand.
Of course I take it.
He pulls me up. I wish I could say I was smooth and graceful, but I stumble in the sand as we race to the edge of the water together. We laugh as the cool wind whips my hair around my shoulders and face.
He discards his shirt. His jeans go next until he stands before me, clad only in boxers. At first, I think he might take those off too, but sadly, he keeps them on.
He steps behind me and extends his arms, blocking me. I look back at him in question.
“So there aren’t any prying eyes. The guards are watching. They’re not close, and they probably can’t see much in the dark. But I don’t want to take the chance. Your body is for my eyes only.”
“Are the guards why you’re still wearing your boxers? It’s not skinny-dipping without getting naked.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I’m trying to be a gentleman. But just say the word, and I’ll be happy to take them off.”
“Hmm. I’ll think about it,” I tease.
The interesting thing about risks is, the more you take, the better you get at them. At least, that’s the only explanation I have for how easy it is to shed my dress and stand before Chase in just my underwear. It helps that it’s dark enough to feel a layer of protection from my insecurities.
If I thought his gaze was hot before, it scorches me now. “Pretty girl,” he whispers, his breath caressing my ear, as we step into the surf hand in hand, Chase just behind me.
The moment is magical. It’s perfect.
It’s—
“Gah! Cold!” I squeal as a small wave slaps at my legs.
Chase laughs. “You wimp.”
“I’m not a wimp. I’m sane. This is freezing.”
He makes a clean dive into the deeper water. “It’s only cold for the first minute. After that, it’s awesome. Refreshing.”
“Refreshing, my ass.”
“Your ass is spectacular.”
That makes me move toward Chase’s magnetic, possessive gaze. I mentally swear like a sailor the deeper I get, but Chase is right. It’s refreshing, especially when he catches me around my waist.
“There’re no sharks in here, right?” I eye the dark water with suspicion.
“Maybe. This could be Sebastian’s dastardly plan to get you to swim with them.”
I hit Chase.
“Ow!” he says, rubbing his shoulder. “For a girl who can’t run, you sure hit hard.”
“Don’t you forget that.” I soothe the area I just smacked. And then, unable to resist, I stroke down his chest, his arms, following muscle and skin that are so much hotter than the water.
He growls—legit growls—and pulls me tighter to him. I can feel his erection, and on instinct, I wrap my legs around him. The movement lines up all our most intimate parts.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warns.
“I like it hot. I’m yours now. So, what are you going to do with me?” I taunt. I can’t believe I’m speaking so confidently. Around anyone else, except maybe Remington online, I’m too shy to say the things that come into my head, so I hold myself back. But with Chase, it’s different. This man gives me the courage to be myself.
He kisses me, and everything is wet and wanting. Our bodies fuse together. Only his thin boxers and my even thinner panties keep us apart. He kisses me as if my mouth is his lifeline, his oxygen. He traces the fabric of my bra strap with his other hand until he’s playing with the edge of the peekaboo lace. We do have an audience, even if we’re probably just silhouettes in the water. Somehow, that just makes things feel hotter, wilder. Maybe I have a little voyeur in my inexperienced heart.
As if he can read my mind, he turns so that his large body blocks the view from the beach and shifts me up so that my breasts are on full display to him. His fingers play back and forth over my bra, as he watches my nipples harden through the see-through lace. He takes in a ragged breath when my hips move forward in a rhythm against his hardness. His hand goes to the front closure of my bra and hovers over it.
My eyes close as I whisper, “Kiss me. Chase. Please.” I’m not too proud to beg. I want his lips more than my next breath.