A half-drunk bottle of whiskey in my right hand.
A half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his left hand.
We’re perfect strangers, but we fuck like animals.
We carry the burden of secrets.
I know the game I play, a dangerous game of deceit and betrayal.
I can’t discern his.
My hair lays flat against my back, trailing past the top of my all-black bikini. Jensen looks as sexy in the burning light as he does in the pitch-black dark. Whether it’s the sun, or the moon kissing him, he glows enigmatic. Everything about him is wrapped in secrecy. I know nothing of his past, or his plans for the future.
I know it’s ridiculous to believe I should. Like I said, we’re perfect strangers and no matter how hard I try to put the pieces of the puzzle together, I can’t make the pieces fit—that’s what the whiskey’s for.
We find the most recluse spot we can find and drop a pair of towels onto the warm, white sand. The sun is too violent for the spring air, and I forgot my sunglasses in the room, so I lay on my stomach. I rest my eyes for only a moment…
I peel my eyes open and take notice of the plateaued, pink sky. The sun has begun to go into hiding underneath the line of beach houses behind us. I’m groggy and confused as I set up onto the towel and look out over the ocean where the pink sky reflects off the rolling tides.
“I watched you while you slept,” Jensen says from beside me. Not creepy at all. His head is rested on his hand, and his elbow sinks in the sand. “Reapplied your sunscreen every thirty minutes so you wouldn’t burn.”
With my finger, I wipe the sleep from my eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You looked peaceful.” His smile morphs into a grin. “Also, I like the silence and you have a penchant for being loud and rambunctious.”
“Shut up.” I swat at him. “What time is it?”
“Sunset.”
“That’s not a time.”
“It used to be.” He sighs and rolls onto his back. “Back before the world became so busy, back when life was slower.”
“That’s beautiful.” Did I really just fucking say that?
“So are you.” He’s on his back so it’s hard to read his face.
“What did you say?” I climb to my feet and scrape sand from my legs.
“I said you’re beautiful.” He sits up and runs fingers through his hair. “No need to make a fuss.”
“What are you doing?” I’m irritated and tired. I dig my feet into the sand and shake my head.
“Relax babe.”
Babe? “Did you smoke crack while I was asleep?”
“What?” He smiles as he dusts himself off and stands. “You know what you need?”
“Another drink.”
He steps toward me, and bites into his lip. Just when I think he’s about to say something witty, he scoops my body into his arms and takes off toward the sea. I throw an arm around his neck, and cling to him with an iron grip. “Jensen, no,” I scream, but he pays no head.
His feet land against the current as it washes onto the shore. I’m met with splashes of cold water as he tramples further outward. When we’re far enough out, and deep enough in, his running turns into a slow walk as he trudges against the tide.
The water rises with every step, until the sea collides against his nipples. Most of my body is submerged underwater, and I know my fate is in his hands. I attempt—and fail—to climb further up his body.
He treats my body like a barbell as he begins exercising. When he dips outward, my entire body, except for my head, goes under. He’s so cute, thinking we’re at the gym when we’re almost buried under the weight of a frigid ocean.
He drops his arms and swings my body side to side, taunting me. “Does Apple want to swim?”
“No.” I shake my head furiously. “She does not.”
“Does Apple know how to swim?”
“Of course I know how to swim. I’m not a fucking toddler.”
“Good enough for me.” He drops me into the water and the last thing I hear before I’m under the surface is the implication it was an accident. “Oops.”
I fumble under the surface, waiting for the crash of a large wave before kicking upward. The water is deeper, like he threw me off the edge of a drop-off. The first thing I see when I surface is Jensen swimming toward land.
“I’m going to kick your ass,” I scream at him.
“Did you say you’re going to stick your finger my ass again?” he hollers back, much to the dismay of the children swimming with their father to the right of us.
He claps his hands and bends to his knees. He’s a quarterback prepared to catch me—the ball—in his strong hands. I’m not aiming for his hands as I find my footing in the sand and charge toward him.
His brows furrow and he spins to the right. He’s not fast enough as I lunge myself onto his back, throwing my arms around him and pulling his body into the water with me. He throws his hand against the wave, spitting out a mouthful of ocean-water.
I throw my head back, laughing as I run my fingers through his short hair. “Your hair is so sexy right now.”
“You like me when I’m wet?” He scoops his arms around my back as we stand waist-deep in the water. “I would say you’re beautiful, but you tend to get pissy about little things like that.”
“I wasn’t pissed—“
“Bullshit.”
“Men call women beautiful when they want to fuck them—“
“I’ve fucked your pussy twice, and your mouth once,” he points out.
“They never mean it,” I continue, ignoring his words.
“What could have been my ulterior motive?”
“I don’t know. You’re a man.”
“Careful now, I might have to throw your ass back under the water.”
“Try me.”
He tries me, dipping me backward and submerging me under the surface once again. I swallow a large gulp of water, and when I come back up, my first instinct is to breathe.
But I can’t.
He’s kissing me on the fucking lips.
He’s kissed every part of my body, but never my lips. The occasion in which he chooses to rectify this, I’m already fighting to breathe. His lips are smooth against mine, and he steals whatever breath I have left from being forced under the salty water.
He’s a succubus, drawing the life from me and I should fight it. I should beat my hands against his chest. I should crawl away from his touch. I can’t.
When his lips pull away from me, and his eyes are fixated on my own without so much as a blink, I choke on the rush of air swimming into my throat. I have so much to say, but he’s not ready to hear a word.
“I’m going to kiss you again.”
I don’t protest.
21
Darkness creeps against the horizon as the pink clouds fade into hues of dying blue. Jensen chases me out of the water, and the cool evening air chills me. I shake as I reach for my towel and wrap it around my wet, sandy body.
Jensen—apparently being immune to the cold—opts to sit on his towel instead. Droplets of salt water trail down his abs as he shakes the water from his head. “Have you ever seen a sunset?” he asks and turns onto his side.
That’s an odd question. “Almost every night.”
“No, I mean, have you ever really seen one?”
“Like over the ocean?” I pull my hair into a ponytail and search through my bag for a hair tie. “Can’t say I have.”
“You should.” He peers out into the vanishing distance. “It’s the most beautiful sight in the world.”
“Why don’t you take me there sometime? Take me somewhere where I can see it for myself?” I unravel the towel from around my body and place it along the sand next to Jensen.
He chews into his cheek and scratches his chin nervously. “What am I to you?” There’s a seriousness engraved in his tone, and I immediately know we’re about to have our first real conversation.