Page 35 of Stay Toxic

And of course, he was on the one old, bruised and battered boat out of all of the expensive, flashy ones there.

“Hey, nice boat,” I heard Bronc call as he backed up.

The man turned, and there were his eyes, intense and soul-stealing, directed only on me.

“Thanks,” he said to me, even though I wasn’t the one to say it. “My good friend owns it.”

The good friend lifted his hand, and my breath caught.

Two very sexy men, both of them with their eyes directed on me now.

“It’s nice,” Bronc said. “I’ll bet it outruns everyone here.”

The man, Shasha, shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“Totally gonna run us out of the water,” Tibbs murmured. “Look at the motor.”

I did and saw that the boat had two two-hundred horsepower motors on the back.

Jesus Christ.

Bronc stopped and the boat Tibbs and I were sitting in started to drift backward.

Tibbs started the boat up and we drifted backward, closer and closer to the man that was seriously starting to become the star in my waking and sleeping fantasies.

“Good morning,” he said as I drifted closer to him.

His arm came out and caught the side of our boat when it started drifting too close to his.

He gently pushed us away, his long, strong fingers dominating my vision.

I’d seen him in a perfectly fitted suit.

I’d thought about how buttoned up and precise he looked, like he was a studious businessman without a single ounce of wild in him.

But today, with him wearing a pair of jeans, boots, and a very well-fitted Henley in a different color than the one I’d seen him in last time, sleeves pushed up to his forearms revealing those muscles and tattoos…

Rawr.

Also, it didn’t surprise me to find him here with all the rich bitches of Dallas proper.

The man was loaded. You could tell that just by watching how he handled himself.

Plus, the man was wearing a Patek Phillipe.

That was a very expensive watch.

I knew that because Rupert had watched those stupid watch videos on YouTube, drooling and dreaming of a day when he’d be able to afford one of his own.

“Dude, are you not freezing right now?” the friend with him asked.

“Yeah, but you made me help you tie a lure onto the line instead of letting me put my jacket back on…” he pointed out as he stood up and stretched.

He reached for the jacket I hadn’t realized he’d discarded and shrugged it back on. As he moved, his Henley lifted and revealed a dip in his lower belly that disappeared into his jeans.

Holy. Fuck.

I quickly looked away, hoping he didn’t catch me ogling him.

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