Page 281 of Ominous: Part 1
The sand burns against my kneecaps, my shins, and the force of the wave spins us both along the bottom of the ocean.
For a second, dull thuds of the power of the sea echoing around me, Eden still in my arms, my eyes closed, and breath cut off, I wonder what it would be like to never come up.
How would it feel to drown?
I really, really don’t want her to leave me.
Down here, she couldn’t. There’s nowhere to run, for two bodies at the bottom of the Atlantic.
But just as the wave leaves us, and I feel the change in the temperature of the water, marginally warmer because it’s swept us to the shore, all I have to do is stand on shaky legs to pop above the surface, the depths only to my shins now.
She’s gasping for air, still in my arms, which is quite an accomplishment, us clawing onto one another in the turbulence of the sea.
Her nails are lodged into my shoulders, her eyes wide, dark hair slicked back from her face, her cheeks pink.
I take a few steps with her in my arms, getting us out of the danger zone of another wreck.
“You…” She sputters, closing her eyes, a laugh leaving her lips. “You are such a jerk.” Her eyes flash open, and for a second, the weak rays of sunlight reflecting off the expansive sea, her irises appear wholly blue, like the ocean, and I don’t know why, but I stop breathing, just staring at her.
Joy, and adrenaline, and she even looks less tired. It’s all over her beautiful face.
Then she slaps me, out of nowhere, not hard enough to hurt, but I still feel the sting, and her burst of laughter, more a nervous giggle than anything else, has my heart swelling, no ill feelings in my body.
But I still drop to my knees and push her against the sand, the water a receding halo around her body.
I press my palms to the shore, on either side of her head, my fingertips sinking into the wet sand. Water drips along her body beneath me, her hands gripping my biceps.
“Sorry,” she says, but she doesn’t mean it.
I dip my head and kiss her, and she pushes against me, tearing her mouth away. I know what she wants, and I roll over, onto my back, and she’s on top of me, her thighs splayed, core over my pelvis.
She grabs my wrists and yanks them over my head, and I let her, admiring the view of her overpowering me, even if it’s only pretend.
She already has so much power in so many more important ways than the physical.
This position suits us.
She presses her wet palm flat to my cheek, where she hit me. Leaning close to me, so we’re heart-to-heart, she says, “I love you, you little brat.”
My heart is racing in my chest, and it’s a feeling so foreign to me, outside of physical exercise and wrestling matches, I almost forget what it is, the thudding of life inside my veins.
“Are you saying you only hit me because you love me?” It’s a joke, but her face falls, and I wish I hadn’t said it.
I think of my dad.
I wonder if she knows.
I don’t find out, though, not right now. Right now, she releases my wrists, grabs my face in both hands, and presses her lips to mine as my fingers dig into the sides of her hips.
We don’t get up for a long, long time, and by the time we break apart, my lips are numb, and my dick is hard, and all I want to do is take her back to the house so I can show her just how much I love her, too.
* * *
I rollto a stop at a green light.
Immediately, her attention lasers in on me. Satisfaction achieved. I’m smiling at her when we make eye contact. The glow of dash lights and buttons from the center console illuminate the curve of her cheekbones and the pout of her lips, even with the darkness dropping around us.
“What’re you doing?” She has one arm on the ledge of the rolled down window, drumming her fingers to The Plot in You playing too loudly for us to hold a conversation.
