Page 41 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

“Seems so. I stayed on the boat.” I shouldered a vest with an attached tank, its bottom bumping against my ass. “Nia had to keep Jordan from sticking his fingers into every hole he found.”

Sunlight bounced off the brink of Logan’s nose and caught in his smile. “That’s the guy who won his certification in a poker game, right?”

“The very same.”

“Right.” Logan followed me towards the stairs. “For the record, I’m trying to rein in a pun about sticking fingers in holes.”

I bit down on a grin. “Your restraint is admirable.”

“And don’t you forget it.” He paused. “Hey, how do you think eels feel about their reputation as the creepy uncles of the ocean?”

“Annoyed, most likely. I think they’re misunderstood.”

“Doesn’t help that they look like underwater sock puppets.”

“Fair point.” I tried to keep from panting too obviously. One step at a time. The stairs up to the shop stretched into eternity, and maybe I should consider hitting the staff gym once in a blue moon. “Easy to underestimate them, though. They’re actually quite important for the marine ecosystem.”

“Yeah?” Logan sounded genuinely interested.

“Yeah. They’re like the clean-up crew and pest control, all rolled into one. Eating dead stuff and making sure no one species gets out of hand.”

“Until someone pokes a finger in their hole,” Logan said, a smile showing in his voice. “Then it’s game over.”

“Look, if someone stuck a finger into my bedroom, I’d bite too.”

Logan’s laugh was a quick, bright burst. He didn’t seem out of breath at all, the bastard. “That so?”

“Wouldn’t you?” I asked, pausing for a moment to take in the view. A stiff breeze whipped up whitecaps on the waves, the sea’s deep blue contrasting with the vibrant green of tropical foliage.

“Depends on who’s doing the poking,” Logan said.

I glanced back for a little smirk. “That an invitation?”

“Very much so.”

Pleasant heat sparked in my chest, nothing to do with the lazy warmth of the afternoon. “I may hold you to that.”

“Please do.”

We were silent while we conquered the last stretch of stairs. I unlocked the door to the dive shop, a waft of neoprene and dive gear cleaner welcoming me as I stepped inside, Logan close behind. After the day’s brightness, my eyes needed several moments to adjust to the dim interior.

I set the tank down with a clunk while Logan dropped his stack of fins. Maybe I reached out first or maybe he did—my hand sliding intohis hair to draw him in, his arm curling around my back, rucking up my T-shirt.

“Hi,” he murmured.

I gave his bottom lip a brief tug with my teeth, then pulled back to ask, “What are you doing tonight?”

“You? If you’re up for it.” His smile was deliberately cheesy, gleaming in the half-light as his fingers dipped below the waistband of my shorts. I inhaled sharply through my nose.

“Your place or mine?”

”My bed is bigger. Or so I’ve heard.” Logan rubbed our noses together, oddly sweet, before he caught my mouth for a too-brief kiss. “Plus,” he added, “Tom should be out, at least if Nia is up for a night dive with him.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“It’s the island edition of Netflix and chill.”

“Oh, trust me, Nia’s gonna be up for it.” I grinned, and Logan grinned back.

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