Page 41 of Inseverable (Carolina Beach)

“No.” In her defense, given what’s trying to punch a hole through my jeans, I’ll admit, my voice is pretty damn strained.

“You did so just growl at me. What’s your problem?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“What’smyproblem?” I turn to face her, but after another look at well,everything, I realize it’s a mistake. Again, I avert my gaze. “You’re the one standing in your panties, soaking wet?” I grimace. Talk about the wrong thing to say. Now I’m ten seconds away from busting through my zipper. “?while me and your friends have been worried sick looking for you.”

“I only went for a swim to clear my head.”

“In your panties?” I ask.

She pauses. “You like saying that word, don’t you?”

“Trin?”

“I mean that’s like the second time you’ve said it.”

I don’t have to look at her to know she’s smiling, but I do. Great. Now she’s cold, and I don’t just know that because she’s hugging herself and shaking. Two of the stiffest, most tempting nipples I’ve ever seen are protruding against the lace of her bra, demanding I step in for a closer look, begging me to touch, insisting that I lick, and pleading for me to suck?

I curse out loud and rip off my shirt, offering it to her without looking. “Here, take it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“Trust me. I do,” I say, growling yet again. Hell, wonder why?

“I’m serious,” she insists. “My clothes are right over there.”

I make the mistake of looking up in time to see everything the good Lord gave Trin bounce perfectly as she runs along the sand. She stops and scans the beach, then jogs further up, the globes of her ass stretching against the tiny piece of fabric barely keeping her covered.

Jesus H. Christ.

Just ahead of her, what appears to be a pair of college-aged boys are walking toward her. Both stop dead when they see her, one of them flat out pointing.

Ohhellno.

Trin turns around when she sees me charging toward her. “I can’t find my clothes. The current must have taken me further down?hey.”

I shove my shirt over her head and yank it down past her ass. She squeals as I throw her over my shoulder and storm in the direction of my house.

“Spanky, put me down this instant.”

If I don’t shake the image of her in those barely-there clothes?or the way things bounced as she ran?by the feel of it, I may very well be living up to that nickname several times tonight.

She wriggles against me, likely trying to break her arms free. “I mean it, Callahan!” she yells.

“Zip it, woman,” I tell her.

She stops wiggling. “Did you just tell me to zip it?”

“Yup,” I answer.

“Well, that’s rude.”

I huff. “Says the woman running around in her?”

“Panties?” she offers. “You were going to say it again weren’t you?”

“I was going to say skivvies,” I fire back, lying through my teeth.

“No,” she drawls. “I don’t think you were.”

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