Page 132 of Old Acquaintances

Rotisserie chicken predator.

“Tucker, can you help me?” I ask, coming to stand in front of him.

He frowns and looks into my half-open wetsuit. I’m wearing an electric blue bikini underneath. His eyes drag up to mine.

I raise a brow, questioning. He knows what I’m doing.

Tucker exhales through his nose, sliding his hands along my shoulders, picking up the dry straps, and pushes the rubber sleeves down to my wrists. I help pull my hands out. He could stop here if he wanted. He could recognize that Serena had no difficulty with her wetsuit.

Instead, his hands spread on my torso. I squirm a second under his cold skin.

Tucker mutters, “I know what you’re doing.”

His face nearly falls into my chest as his hands slide the wetsuit over my hips. I balance myself on his shoulders. Tucker leans forward, tugging my legs off one at a time while I pick my feet up and pull them out.

On his way back to a straightened posture, his hands gently drag up the length of my legs. Fingers bump over the knot in my bottoms. My breath catches my throat, his comes out uneven. Both hands find either side of my rib cage. My arms straighten, palms pressed into his shoulders, when Tucker sweeps his right thumb under my left bikini top. His rough skin grazes the underside of my breast. It prickles and warms. My whole body shivers with one sensual touch.

I sigh.

He groans. “Jesus, Ella,” he whispers, eyes studying the movement of his fingers. His hands reach around and grab my butt cheeks, my jaw dropping in shock, and he lifts and moves me backward a foot, his eyes focused on mine.

“Sit down,” Tucker orders. To everyone else, he says loudly, “You guys ready?”

I move with a warm head back to Callie and Serena. The sun is well past midday, and the boat barely sways but my legs stumble, my eyes bracing for a bright light.

When we reach the house, I change into a tank top and knit shorts. Tucker has already changed into sweats. He’s agreed to take Johnny and Jen out for a short nighttime boat ride, so Serena called to see if we could keep the boat for one more day. Callie is making curry and rice for dinner with Wyatt’s help, so the birthday boy and I are instructed to sit and relax until then.

Tucker keeps his eyes off me from the second the boat’s tied up, until the moment I sink into the couch beside him.

“You have two whole couches,” he argues.

“I’m cold,” I lie, sliding close to him.

“Then put on warmer clothes.” He snatches the remote control from the coffee table. “You’ve already marked my sweatshirt with your scent. Am I going to lose yet another piece of clothing to your reptilian blood?”

“I don’t have any of your clothes,” I deny.

“You’ve stolen at least three sweatshirts of mine.”

“It’s not stealing if someone gives it to you.”

“To wear once, not own.”

“Well, if you don’t come back and challenge me for it, then I guess you don’t really care.”

He throws me a look. “What exactly is your plan?”

I observe the sliver of space between us, my shoulder pressed up to his, and think,this might be enough.I just want to be around him. I want him to look at me and touch me with the softness that he once did. If I get one more cold, indifferent look, I’ll break like my twelve-year-old self realizing I’ll never marry Justin Bieber.

I measure, “To clear the air.”

“About what?”

“You know what, Tucker,” I prod. My hand falls in the crook between us.

His eyes coast from my lips to my chest, and they shut, quickly. “Everything we have to say to each other, I’ve already said.”

“Talking was never really our problem.” I adjust in the sinking cushions. “We were always too physical to just be friends.”

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