Page 3 of Sharkbait
Now we’re getting somewhere.
I think.
“You said you don’t mind the cold,” he breathes. “Are you into winter sports then? Skiing, snowshoeing, mountain climbing?”
“Not into winter sports, no.” I desperately work to undo his pants.
“So whatareyou into?” he rumbles as he helps me with the button.
“You mean sex-wise? The regular stuff. The regular stuff will do.”
He laughs. “Good to know. But I meant what are you into inlife? Like hobbies and stuff.”
Alright. Now buddy boy here is starting to test my patience.
“Not really a hobby person. My hobby is my work, and my work is my hobby.”
Score! Jeans are officially down. He kicks them, and they land on top of an icy growler, almost like he choreographed it. You would think a woman getting him pants-less would beenough to curb this guy’s relentless inquisition, but no.
“What’s your work then?”
“Marine biology,” I huff. “Can we—?”
“Oh wow, the ocean and I are likethis.” He crosses his index and middle finger in that universal sign of closeness. “I’m a swimmer! A diver too!”
“Cool, cool,” I say and try to get his focus back to the physical. The fact that we have both been in a body of water at some point in our lives does not bind us together in any meaningful way.
“I’ve been told I have the lung capacity of a whale.” He pats his chest. “Yeah, these guys certainly served me well when I free dived in Sri Lanka. Wait. Is it ‘dived’ or ‘dove’? ‘Dived’ always sounds wrong to my ear, but I think that’s actually correct. Doesn’t matter. Point is, I love extreme sports! And speaking of marine biology, get this, once a week I volunteer at—”
“Hey, James!” I shout.
He stops speaking.
Hallelujah!
I soften my voice to a husky tone. “ItisJames, right?”
“James, yeah,” he confirms with a dazzling smile.
I reach into his pants and find him more than ready for me, so I start to stroke.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, James,” I whisper in his ear and shiver when his stubbled cheek brushes against mine. His olive skin smells like ivory soap and shaving cream.
He tightens his strong arms around my back and pulls me closer.
I continue my ministrations below.
“Thank you,” he says. “You’re also—”
“And you seem like a nice guy.” I interrupt.
He smiles. “I appreciate that. You seem like a—”
“But I’m not looking for a nice guy.”
“No?”
“No. I’m not looking foranyguy.”
