Page 78 of We Were Something
Logan drops a kiss on my nose and then lightly slaps my ass under the blanket before pulling back and crawling out of bed.
“Not before breakfast.”
Even thoughmyidea of a fun day would have included a lot more time naked, we still have a fantastic day.
Logan preps an amazing breakfast for us, some tomato and goat cheese toast with an over easy egg and a bowl of fresh fruit. And then we pack some supplies in a floating cooler, unhook two small kayaks from where they’re strapped closer to the bow of the boat, and then paddle ourselves to shore.
Once we step foot on Santa Barbara Island, we hike up to the campground and follow the trail out to Arch Point, taking in the amazing views and the gorgeous orange and yellow wildflowers scattered along the side of the path and mixed in with the lush green growth facing the east.
We eat a packed lunch back at the campground and then take the path back down into Landing Cove, where we lie out in the sun for a bit before kayaking back out to the boat.
Then Logan throws the sails up and takes us on a slow, meandering cruise all the way around the southern tip of the island, and then back up on the eastern side, before dropping anchor in what he says is called Elephant Seal Cove. And when we hop back into the water with snorkeling gear, Logan is quick to point out to me the sea lions bathing in the sun on some of the rocks just above where the tide breaks.
It really is a magical day, one of those days that is so filled with memories and fun conversation and laughter that it’s hard to imagine ever forgetting even a single moment.
Which is why I begin to craft an idea in my head of how we could cap the day off with some ofmykind of fun, while still working within the boundaries of what Logan seems to be comfortable with.
After we’ve showered off and eaten another healthy meal of chicken and salad for dinner, I make sure to grab a Bluetooth speaker I saw in one of the cabinets when we head upstairs with a bottle of wine to watch the stars.
“What are you doing?” Logan asks when I intentionally walk him to the bench seat and push him gently into the rounded corner spot.
“You’ll see,” is all I say in response, turning on the speaker and then pulling up the playlist I made earlier on my phone while Logan was in the shower.
A few seconds later, a familiar R&B song with a sensual base begins to play. I reach down into the interior tech panel to switch off the main lights while leaving onjust one string of small, low-wattage bulbs that give the deck just enough dim light that Logan can see me.
Watch me
“Paige?” Logan says again, stretching out my name into a question.
“Logan,” I reply, my hips beginning to roll and sway with the beat of the music. “Have you ever had someone dance for you before?”
His eyes watch me with a mixture of curiosity, amusement and interest, but he doesn’t answer with anything other than a slow shake of his head as I cross towards him. Though his eyes do darken when I begin to slowly stroke my hands around my body.
Across my stomach.
Over my breasts.
Down my sides.
Between my legs.
All the while I keep the same kind of swaying, allowing the deliciousness of the beat to guide me as I try to seduce him.
I’ve told Logan that I love to dance, that going out to clubs is something I do once or twice a week during the summer and a few times a month during the slow season. But I don’t think he fully understood me. I think he probably envisioned me rocking out to punk music or drunkenly dancing with no rhythm to the latest pop chart topper.
I doubt he envisioned me rolling my hips like this, the slow undulation of my body as much erotic as it is graceful.
Until now, that is.
He watches me with hooded eyes as I move even closer to him, as I slowly unbutton the top I put on earlier, then whip it off to reveal my bare breasts. I revel in the way he licks his lips as I spin around and begin to slowly lift the skirt I have on, revealing more of my sun-kissed skin from my time in the water.
When I turn to look at him over my shoulder, I find him seated with his legs spread wide, his hands rubbing slowly up and down his thighs, his eyes glued to my ass and then rising to my peaked nipples when I turn around.
“You are…” he starts, but ultimately just shakes his head and licks his lips again.
I smile at him, a coy thing that belies my own desperation to rub up against him, and then step even closer, pressing my knees into the padded seat outside of his thighs as I grip onto his shoulders.
“What am I?” I ask him, my voice throaty as I begin to undulate my body against his.
