Page 76 of Ship Outta Luck

Not trusting myself to speak, I secure the towel around my neck and nod once. Then bend to pull off the plastic cap.

Carefully, I lift the jug, and her back tenses as she braces herself.

“It might be a little cold.” Water trickles out of the jug, turning her dark brown hair inky, goosebumps shivering across her skin.

“That feels nice.” Eyes closed, a stream of water slides down her face and neck. Underneath her bikini top, her nipples pebble.

It takes everything I have to avert my gaze.

“Is that enough?”

“Mmhmm.” A small noise of satisfaction. and I wish I was wholly responsible for it. “Can you put the towel back up?”

I glance back at her, and her eyes flutter open. I can’t help but wonder if what I want to see in them is really there. My own desire, reflecting back.

I snap the towel open, holding it high enough that the top of her head disappears, as much for her sake as mine. Temptation is a dangerous thing, and I won’t give in to it. Unfortunately, holding the beach towel that high means it stops right below her knees.

Pink bikini bottoms fall to the sand, followed by the triangle top.

I bite back a groan. I should look away—but I can’t bring myself to. Behind the towel, I hear her lathering her hair, the swish of soap and water across skin. I imagine it running between the luscious curves of her breasts, her pink mouth parted, eyes closed.

My fingers tingle, aching to touch something infinitely softer than the terry-cloth towel. To see if what my brain supplies matches reality. Or if reality is better. My mouth waters as the scent of coconut wraps itself around me, my body stiffening.

Closing my eyes for a beat, I attempt to regain control. She makes a small noise of contentment, and I open them, zeroing in on a clump of soapy bubbles sliding down the muscled length of her calf.

“Okay, I think I can lift it now that you poured some out.” June’s arm reappears as she wrestles the jug behind the towel. The sound of water running has never been this arousing. Running all over June’s body, in all the secret places I wish to explore.

Thompson was right.I want June like I haven’t wanted someone in a very, very long time. Resolve stiffens my shoulders, and I shift my weight, a bit concerned with other stiff parts.

I’m not going to give up a chance with her without a fight.

“Okay. I think I’m clean.” She tugs on the towel and I let it go, then she wraps it around herself.

The soap bubbles she missed slide further down her calf and, without thinking, I slowly bend, wiping the excess from her skin. My thumb skates over the curve of her ankle, pulling a sharp inhalation from her.

Straightening, a sense of purpose now to my thoughtless movement, I enter the battlefield.

I will win her over.

A wicked smile curves my lips. “You missed a spot, princess.”

“Oh.” Her eyes are huge, her wet hair glued to her shoulders. “Thank you,” her voice is a little breathless.

Breathless is a good sign. My smile deepens.

I still got it.

“Why don’t you dry off, and then I can hold the towel back up while you get dressed?”

“No peeking.” Her answering smile is tentative.

I wink, and a rosy blush brings out the color in her sun-tinged cheeks. Carefully, she peels the towel from her torso and I hold it out lengthwise, then close my eyes.

An eternity seems to pass.

“Tada,” she sings out. I open my eyes to find June in a loose t-shirt. On it, a striped cat wears American flag sunglasses. Long shorts complete the look.

“Walk, walk, fashion baby.” June saunters towards me. “Catwalk, get it?” She plucks at the shirt and lets out a snort. Her amusement is infectious.

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