Page 5 of Hot Water

He doesn’t fight. He works with me, allowing me to drag us toward the light.

We break the surface, both gasping for air. He chokes and coughs, heaving for breath. He’s so beautiful up close. So, so beautiful. And so alive.

His wild eyes are locked on me as if he isn’t sure he’s still breathing.

“Are you okay?” I ask as he blinks at me.

He shakes his head, still staring at me. We begin swimming toward shore. I keep a close eye on him, a little afraid he might slip through my fingers and disappear beneath the surface again.

Within seconds, we’re on land again. He immediately drops to the sand, taking deep breaths, those blue eyes locked on me.

I shiver as I pace toward him, my stomach turning flips. The way he’s staring at me… Lord, he’s not looking at me like a man grateful to be rescued. He’s looking at me like a man who wants to devour me.

My blood heats in my veins, my heart running wild in my chest. I kneel beside him, trembling. Nervous. Excited.

His eyes bore into me, stealing my breath.

Several beachgoers surround us, murmuring to themselves. I tear my gaze from him, focusing on them.

“He’s fine,” I say softly. “Everything is okay.”

“The lifeguard is on the way,” a petite blonde informs me, her camera phone pointed at us.

“Jesus,” he mutters, the first word I’ve heard him say. His voice is like aged whiskey, deep and smooth. “I don’t need the fucking lifeguard. I’m fine.”

“You should really let the lifeguard check you out. You almost drowned.”

“I was on my way up.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “You were under the water for a long time.”

“I got turned around,” he mutters defensively.

“Right.” I roll my eyes, not impressed. “So, you’re one of those, then.”

“One of those?” His dark brows furrow with confusion.

“One of those macho men who thinks they’re infallible and can’t possibly need help from a little ole woman. Well, buddy, you’re wrong.” I poke him in the ribcage, annoyed beyond belief. Why are the hot ones always jerks? Just once, can’t a hot one be sweet, too? “You were drowning. I saved you. You’re welcome.”

He grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together before I can pull it away. “I know you did, mermaid. I’ve been sitting here, trying like hell to figure out how I got so fucking lucky since you dragged my miserable ass out of the water,” he rumbles. “I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“You just said?—”

“I lied,” he growls. “I don’t want to deal with a lifeguard or anyone else. I want you all to myself for five minutes so I can thank you properly.”

“Oh,” I whisper, my cheeks heating as his blue eyes run all over my face, eating up the sight of me.

“Jesus, baby. Where’d you come from?”

“California.”

A smile curves his lips, turning him from beautiful to some level of gorgeous I’m not nearly prepared to deal with right now. He’s dripping wet, looks like sin, and he’s staring at me like I’m the prize here.

Best vacation ever.

“What’s your name, mermaid?”

“Amelia Thorne Reynolds,” I whisper.

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