Page 21 of Nothing Without You (Forever Yours 2.50)

Eyeing Maisey, my gaze lingers on the way her body is still draped over the edge of the boat. That’s how she was able to splash me with water. How I didn’t notice her dangling over the edge is beyond me.

All I can do now is stare at her ass, the way the rounded cheeks peek out a little, tempting me to smack her right there. Just a light smack, to shock her, make her yelp. What would she do? Would she hate it?

Maybe she’d like it…

“Your brother’s boat is amazing,” she says, rising to her feet and sauntering toward me. She braces herself when the boat rocks extra hard and I almost reach for her before she rights herself. “Thank you for taking me out.”

“Thank you for splashing me,” I tell her solemnly, making her smile.

“You needed it. You were so serious only a few minutes ago, trying to maneuver this thing.” She shakes her head, rests her hands on her hips. “Please tell me we’ll hang out here for a little bit before we head back to the dock.”

“Sure.” I dropped the anchor when we first got here, and I planned on busting a few drinks out of the ice chest I brought with us. Maisey was in charge of snacks, and even though I ate lunch only an hour ago, my stomach is growling in anticipation of what she might have in her bag. “Thirsty?”

“Yes.” She nods.

I flip open the top of the blue ice chest and contemplate the selection. “I have Coke, Water, one 7-Up, a couple of beers, and two Orange Crushes.”

She wrinkles her nose when my gaze meets hers. “Quite the variety.”

“I picked everything from Hunter’s refrigerator.” My brother has a fridge in the garage where they keep extra stuff and all the drinks.

“I’ll take an Orange Crush, please,” Maisey says primly and I dig into the ice, pull the cold can out, and hand it to her, our fingers brushing.

Our touch hot despite the ice.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, cracking open the can.

“You still like them,” I tell her as she takes a sip.

“I still like what?”

“Orange Crushes. You used to always drink them when…” We were together, I say silently.

“I don’t drink them like I used to.” She takes another sip, a hum of satisfaction sounding low in her throat. My skin goes tight at the sound. “I’ve pretty much given up soda these last couple of years.”

“I brought the Orange Crush for you,” I admit as I grab a beer—the only one I’ll drink while we’re out on the boat—and twist the cap off. “I saw it in Hunter’s fridge and had to throw it in there. Just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“Just in case you still drank them.” The beer feels good on my dry throat and I drain almost half of it, like I need the liquid courage to continue with my plan.

My plan to get my hands on Maisey in that fucking bikini.

From the moment I stopped by her house to pick her up, driving Hunter’s truck with the boat towed behind it, she threw me. Looking cute and so painfully young in her cutoff jean shorts and a white tank top, the bright red straps of her swimsuit top curved around her neck. Seeing her with no makeup on her pretty face and her hair in that ponytail took me right back. To when we were young and in love and blind to the future.

We were living in the here and now.

I envy my younger self. When I didn’t care, when all I could focus on was football and school and my girlfriend. My friends and my family and my beat-up truck I bought with the money I’d saved up. How proud I was to drive around town in that truck with my girl sitting at my side, my hand on her thigh, her head on my shoulder.

I am nothing like the kid I was. And I’m filled with the sudden urge to reclaim my old self.

Even if it’s just for a little bit.

“You want something to eat?” she asks and my earlier hungry thoughts are gone, replaced by a need to do something fun.

Something spontaneous.

“Let’s jump in the water,” I say as I set the beer in the cupholder by the driver’s seat.

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