Page 10 of Depraved Truths

I steal a quick glance at Allie, who remains engrossed in her phone, seemingly oblivious to my current state. She must have noticed me drifting off and decided to give me a chance to catch some much-needed sleep.

I hastily gulp down the remainder of my drink, anticipating the warm sensation of the alcohol coursing through me.

“Do you want to join me for a quick swim?” I ask.

I catch her gaze as she rolls her eyes in my direction. “Eww, no.” She grimaces. “I’ll stick to swimming pools, thank you very much.”

“You do know you’re more likely to catch a disease in the community pool, right?” I retort with sarcasm, strolling to the edge of the water. The sun glistens on the surface as I wade in until the water reaches my waist. Then I dive forward, feeling the cold slap of it against my skin. Despite the chill, I can’t help but love it. It provides a cathartic experience for me. In the water, I can disconnect from my thoughts and the outside world, simply reveling in the serene sensation of effortlessly gliding through it.

As I resurface for air, urgent shouting to my right reaches my ears. In an instant, I feel two powerful hands gripping me tightly, guiding me toward the safety of land. My instincts kick in, and Ifight back with all my might. With a sudden burst of strength, I push away from the thick, muscular arms restraining me. Just as I’m about to deliver a powerful punch to his face, I stop in my tracks when I hear someone calling my name.

Out of nowhere, the deafening roar of a motorboat fills the air, zooming dangerously close to us, missing by a mere fraction of an inch.

Once the boat passes, I start thrashing again, and the person holding me instinctively retreats. His voice laced with amusement and caution, he says, “Easy there, Little Killer. You need to calm down.”

Slowly, I become keenly aware of the warm, muscular arms holding me close, and I raise my head to look up at the man who seemingly just saved my life.

The moment our eyes meet, I instantly recognize the intense, dark blue of his gaze—one that radiates both anger and concern. It’s clear the anger isn’t directed at me as his piercing gaze surveys my body, searching for any sign of harm.

“Tessa,” he rasps. “Are you okay?”

I nod slowly, the gravity of the situation making it difficult to find the right words. With a shaky hand, I brush a strand of wet hair behind my ear.

“Oh my god, Tessa!” Allie’s screams pierce through the air, reaching my ears.

The motorboat comes to a halt and reverses its direction.

“Yo, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you swimming out there,” the driver of the boat calls, a guy with red hair wearing a wife-beater and cutoff jeans.

“Wilson, what in the actual fuck?!” Eli yells at the boater. “You could’ve killed her!”

“Take it easy, man. I can assure you that she looks completely fine to me,” the driver says, his gaze shifting to me as he offers me a lecherous smile, openly ogling my breasts. “Sorry, sweetcakes.”

“My eyes are up here,” I state coldly, glaring at him.

He meets my gaze and smirks. His pupils are wide and dilated—a clear sign he’s under the influence of something. Behind the haze, there’s a disturbing, almost sinister quality to him. A sense of unease washes over me, a deep darkness I can’t explain, and my gut tells me he’s dangerous.

“Just get the fuck out of here asshole,” Eli growls, his voice dripping with rage.

Another boat approaches with two familiar-looking men on board, both staring down Wilson, who starts his boat again and speeds away.

It doesn’t escape my attention that Eli’s still right beside me in the icy water. My body is tingling in response to his presence.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, the worry still evident on his face.

Only then do I realize he’s without a shirt. I take my time to admire the sculpted perfection of his abs.Jesus, how long has it been since I had my last orgasm?Or, more accurately, since I had one without relying on my vibrator. There’s something about this guy that ignites all my senses. A smirk lights his face, as if he could hear what I was thinking.

“I’m alright. Where did you even come from?” I ask, perplexed.

“We were fishing when I saw that idiot speeding toward you at ninety miles an hour.”

He points to the men in the boat idling up beside us, a golden retriever happily wagging its tail.

“This is Jace and Trevor.”

“Good to meet you. Mr. Long, how’s that finger doing?” I call out, remembering the moment I had to stitch up his right index finger after a near-severing incident with a table saw.

With a grin, he says, “You can call me Trevor, and my finger’s healing well, thanks to you, Doc.”

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