they were displeased with the results. It was because I refused to help them for a second time, which proved to me they didn’t learn their lesson to begin with.” Our stares connect once more. “You know the deal. I have to take at least one case a year. Why wouldn’t I sign up for the one that not only gives me a chance to fight true injustice but would also help my girlfriend?”
Okay.
So, we are using the terms.
Not how I saw them coming out.
Yet…don’t hate it.
I slowly nod at the same time I state, “We’ll pay.”
“You won’t.”
“We will.”
“You.” The arrogant grin is hard to disagree with. “Won’t.”
More urges to argue that we don’t need charity, that I’ve been helping pay court fees and attorney fees and all other fees for my only sister for years, come rushing to the surface; however, they’re crushed by the wave of tenderness that comes when Ax’s fingers stretch out and recapture mine.
This isn’t some sick, twisted hero complex or caveman clubbing scenario.
No.
This is simply the action of a smart man chained to a contract he hates, getting to do some good for someone stuck in a situation she doesn’t belong in.
This is nothing more than a good man doing the right thing in the face of a wrong one.
His hand lifts mine to his lips and provides it with a care-filled kiss.
Maybe his response is those things…but maybe, it’s also that of a man whose bed I woke up in… whose bed I want to keep waking up in…whose bed I feel I belong in…trying to further prove he’s drowning in love with me as much as I’m drowning in love with him.
Chapter 6
Six weeks is much too long to go without seeing my buds.
I’d never go that long without being with one of my boards.
Or now Brooklyn for that matter.
Fuck, just going longer than a day without either one of them and I turn into Sebastian from The Little Mermaid without the accent, yet all the crankiness.
They’re not wants.
They’re needs.
Staples.
Like the fresh seafood I eat and the tequila I drink.
Like the ocean air I breathe.
I can’t live without them.
I tell my boards that shit every time I pick one up yet haven’t found the balls to express it to Brooklyn.
I wanna say “I love you” plain and simple, but even that doesn’t feel like enough.
“Since when do you paddle so fucking slow?” E chides, cruising ahead of me and Bodhi.
“Fuck you, man. I’ve got precious cargo on board!”
Brooklyn peers over her shoulder and up at me from where she’s positioned as a passenger on my SUP. Her smile is warmer than the morning sun and a million times brighter.
How in the deep blue water did I ever enjoy life before her?
She girlishly giggles and flicks her sunglasses down to cover her eyes. “You think I’m precious?”
“I think I’d never forgive myself if I put bumps and bruises on that beautiful body that weren’t from sex.”
Crimson swiftly coats her cheeks, calling to me to kiss it away.
If only I weren’t busy paddling.
“Ugh,” Bodhi groans in irritation at the same time he attempts to wade through the water faster, “we can hear you.”
“Don’t like it?”
“No.”
“Then don’t listen.”
“Speak for yourself,” E retorts, now chuckling. “I’m always down to hear the dirty details of your sexcapades.” He tosses me a mischievous smirk. “You know, like a good friend, Goldilocks.”
Bodhi doesn’t hesitate to argue. “Pretty sure that’s the antithesis of being a good friend.”
“Pretty sure that would be inviting myself into his sexcapades rather than just being willing to listen. Which, as you both know, I’ve only done once and would’ve never forgiven myself had I not.”
“It was wrong then, and looking back on it, Eli, it’s still wrong now,” Bodhi bites.
“It was a three way with actual international supermodels on a mega yacht! It would’ve been wrong not to try to turn it into a four way!”
“Wrong is telling that story in mixed company!”
“Wrong is assuming that just because she’s a female she’s uncomfortable with the subject of sex!”
I instinctively wince over the recalling of one of my more adventurous escapades and it being brought up in my girlfriend’s company.
Brooklyn peers over and up at me for a second time, and I brace myself for possible outrage over the verbal torpedoes fired. “Are they always like this?”
Thankful, she’s not in need of an explanation nor upset by my wilder than average past, I simply shrug. “Pretty much.”
I choose to leave out the tidbit about how their