Page 68 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

“Are they really dangerous?”

“Nah. Not to humans.”

“Why are they called killer whales, then?”

“They’re predators and hunt other whales, seals, and dolphins. They were originally called ‘whale killers’ by sailors and that just got changed to killer whales.”

“You’re such a smart ass,” she says.

I chuckle. “Have you put sun lotion on?”

“Ahhh… not yet. We’re going swimming, aren’t we?”

“We’ll still need lotion. You can easily get burned in the water. Out here, with the breeze, it’s like standing in front of a furnace. I hope all those women on that boat applied their factor fifty or they’re going to look like a pot of boiled lobsters.”

She retrieves the lotion from the bag. “If you’d gone on the yacht, you’d have been able to rub oil into all those nubile bodies.”

“There are more than enough nubile women on this boat for me to cope with, thank you very much.”

“I’m hardly nubile,” she scoffs.

“You’re a young, sexually attractive woman of marriageable age. It’s the very definition of nubile.”

“It makes me sound fourteen.”

“Well, you’ve got the mental age of a fourteen-year-old.”

“See, that’s what I’m used to,” she says, taking the hem of her tee and peeling it up. “Being mocked and ridiculed. I’m on familiar territory.”

“I wouldn’t want to disappoint—” I stop as I glance at her and do a comedic double-take. “Whoa.”

She looks down at herself, then back up at me. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, what?”

“Are you trying to give me a coronary?”

“It’s just a bikini.”

“Zoe, those are the smallest triangles I’ve ever seen.”

She giggles and squirts some sun lotion onto her palm. “When we arrive you can rub some into my chest if you like. And I’m not talking about lotion.”

“Jesus.”

She laughs and starts applying it, rubbing it over her arms, neck, and face. “Have you put any on?”

“Not yet.”

She moves closer and stands behind me, and then I feel her hands on either side of my neck, spreading the lotion over my skin. I don’t say anything, pretending to concentrate on the ocean ahead of me, but all my focus zooms into her touch and I close my eyes temporarily as she strokes up the sides, over my jaw, around my ears, and across my throat, covering all the sensitive places that usually catch the sun.

I open my eyes, but my gaze is unfocused and blurry as she continues to massage the lotion in. Man, that’s hot. Her touch is firm and yet gentle, the lotion letting her fingers glide over my skin as she brushes up to the tender spot behind my ears, then down and around to the hollow of my throat. She strokes up it, over my Adam’s apple, to my jaw, then applies the lotion to my face, her fingertips passing over my nose and cheeks, drawing the liquid across my forehead, and then making sure it sinks into the skin by circling the pads of her fingers.

When she’s done, still standing behind me, she takes the hem of my tee in her hands, peels it up, then drops it to the floor. I don’t say anything, afraid to break the spell, as she tips a little more lotion onto her hands, places them on my shoulders, and spreads it down my arms, taking time to make sure it’s rubbed into my biceps and down my forearms. Then, when they’re well covered, she pours a little from the bottle between my shoulder blades. I feel the cool liquid trickle down my spine, and then she smears it with her hands across my back, using her thumbs to give me a little massage while she does it.

She covers all the way to the top of my shorts, pours some more onto her palms, then slides them around my ribs to my chest. While I continue to steer the boat, she moves close to me, pressing against my back, and strokes up to my collarbone. She spreads the lotion across it, and continues down over my pecs, making sure every inch of my skin is covered.

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