Page 16 of Stick Break
I steal a quick glance at him as he fiddles with said rod, and take a cautious step closer to the edge of the rocks, trying to shake it off the weird things I’m feeling, but…bad idea.
A rogue wave surge up out of nowhere and suddenly…
Whoosh.
I’m on my ass, slipping into the water, and I hit with zero dignity. I gasp, cold, wet. Mortified.
Before I can even curse, he’s there—arms around me, hauling me up like some damn romance hero who just happened to be waiting for the perfect moment to rescue a flailing disaster of a woman in distress. Which I’m not. I’m capable of rescuing myself, but maybe I’ll just let this play out for a second.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, but the words don’t come. Not because I’ve swallowed half the Atlantic, but because I’m in his arms.
And I really like it.
He must see something on my face—something worrisome—because his expression shifts.
“Shit,” he mutters.
Then, before I even realize what’s going on, I’m flat on my back in the wet sand, and this man—this gorgeous Big Bear, a guy with as many secrets as I have is leaning over me.
And giving me mouth-to-mouth.
Oh. God.
Do I stop him?
Do I tell him I’m fine?
Or do I let him keep going…because well it’s so good.
Seriously thought, I really need to put a stop to this.
Yet, here I am, a moan threatening as I enjoy his mouth on mine, even if it’s for unnecessary, medically questionable reasons.
His lips are so warm. Firm. He smells like saltwater and sun and every mistake I want to make twice. Then…that sound escapes. It’s just a tiny one. Barely a sigh. But he hears it. Believe me, I know he hears it, because he freezes, just a breath away, eyes locked on mine.
“You’re not drowning,” he says.
I blink up at him. “Technically, no.”
He stays close, the warmth of his breath on my face when he says, “You let me do mouth-to-mouth.”
I offer a shrug, which is hard to pull off when you’re flat on your back in wet sand. “I panicked.”
His gaze flicks down to my lips again. “That noise you made. What was that?”
“Accident,” I offer.
“Accident?” he echoes, but it’s a question.
“I think it was just a bit of air escaping.” Also known as a sigh…one full of pleasure, if we’re being honest, but we’re definitely not being honest.
What even is my life right now?
Rip leans back just enough to give me space, except now he’s straddling my legs, the heat of him pressing through the chill of my soaked clothes. His brow lifts, droplets sliding down the sharp line of his jaw. I have the overwhelming urge to follow on with my fingertip. Or my mouth.
“So just to clarify...” he says slowly, like he’s solving a puzzle. “You accidentally fell into the ocean, then accidently sighed while you accidentally let me kiss you while fully conscious?”
