Page 32 of A Game of Ruck
We walk to the resort’s private beach.There are chairs and umbrellas closer to the water and big, wooden cabanas with gauzy white fabric stretched over the top all set up.
One has a reserved sign with my name on it—the one I had them put aside for us, and Lisa is already taking prime position on the lounge chair.
“You don’t mind if we squeeze in here with you, do you?”Lisa asks, all smiles.
Teeth like a shark.
“Sure.Of course,” Annabeth says and steps forward, slipping out of her cover-up like it’s no big deal, except it is.
It really fucking is.
Because the second she reveals that red bikini, the temperature spikes ten degrees and my blood pressure right along with it.
She looks incredible.
The crimson material molds to her breasts, lifting the luscious globes like the tempting offerings they are.
She is curvy, radiant, confident—even if I see her shoulders twitch just the tiniest bit.
Then she turns around and I notice the cheeky bottoms clinging to her—gifting me, and everyone else in the vicinity with a spectacular view of her perfect ass.
You know, the kind women pay good money to try to replicate with silicone or cement or God only knows what.
David and the others drop their gazes, clearing their throats and openly gawking.
And I just about lose my goddamn mind.
Lisa’s jaw twitches.And her other cousins exchange side-eyes.
But Annabeth?She is oblivious to it all.
She just walks straight to the shoreline like she owns it, hair blowing behind her, hips swaying like a slow, sexy metronome.
I don’t know what they expected from her, but this?
This clearly wasn’t it.
I throw the football I’m still holding for some fucking reason—and I throw it hard—at one of the boyfriends, who yelps and fumbles it.
“Sorry, boys,” I call over my shoulder.“I’ve got better things to do than toss a ball with you.”
Brittany—I think it’s Brittany—tries to intercept me, grabbing my wrist with a flirty little giggle.
“Don’t you wanna stay here in the shallows?”she purrs, arching her back like a yoga instructor in heat.
“Not even a little bit.”I peel her fingers off my arm gently but firmly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Annabeth glance back.
And fuck me—the flicker of hurt in her eyes?
It wrecks me.
I storm past Brittany and plunge into the surf, pushing hard through the water like it’s done me personal harm.
When I reach her, I don’t say a word.
Just wrap an arm around her waist, pull her close, and murmur for her ears only, because everyone else here?They don’t fucking matter.
