we are late for our kayak date.
In the lobby, Emily and Doug are waiting on one of the low, white cushioned wicker couches.
“There you are,” Emily clips out in exasperation as she stands. But with a blink, she switches to a friendly smile, confiding, “We were late too, so caught up in each other. Right, Doug?”
He rises too, putting a hand on Emily’s lower back. “Uh, yeah. Brunch was delicious. They made these pancakes with coconut flakes in them. So good.” He groans, patting his flat belly with his other hand.
Emily sighs, and I realize she was trying to rub Abigail’s nose in their newlywed sexy times the way we did. Tit for tat style. But unintentionally, Doug cluelessly didn’t back her move.
“Pancakes with coconut sound delectable. I’ll have to try them.” I make a mental note to do so. I’m always interested to try food, especially food that others find enjoyable. But where most folks simply chew and swallow, deciding whether it tastes good or not, I enjoy figuring out what makes something appetizing.
“Let’s get outside before our reservation is cancelled,” Emily huffs. We dutifully follow her out onto the sand.
“Hey! You guys my two o’clock kayakers?” a man asks. He looks very much like a surfer—blond, shaggy hair that he tosses back with a flick of his head, a deep tan, and a seashell tied on a leather cord around his neck.
“Yep,” Doug answers.
“Awesome, dude. I’m Dylan. I’ll be your guide today for this adventure. First things first. Anybody ever punched a shark in the nose before?”
He says it deadpan, as if that’s an actual life skill we might need in the next few hours.
“I have.” I raise my hand like this is elementary school. All eyes turn to me in shock and I let the moment stretch. “Kidding.”
“Bro!” Dylan drawls out, “You had me goin’ with that. I was ready to hear you tell the tale.” He holds up a fist and I pound it.
Everyone else chuckles.
“Right, so just to be clear, no shark punching except as a last resort.” He’s kidding, I think. “Have any of you kayaked?”
Emily raises her hand this time. “Doug and I did once on a romantic weekend getaway.” She makes what should be a no-big-deal answer sound like they’re taking trips for candlelit sex on the regular. But I focus on Abigail’s head shake that she’s never been in a kayak. That’s a tidbit of information I actually want to know.
“Let me go over the basics, then, and once everyone’s as comfy as a crab, we’ll get in the water. Pop a squat in the sand and we’ll get started,” Dylan instructs us.
We all move to sit, but Dylan throws himself into a backflip, spinning through the air and landing on the soft sand in a seated position. “Nailed it!” he exclaims with a fist pump. He sounds surprised, but surely, he’s not hurling himself through the air if he wasn’t certain he would land safely?
“Ladies, if you’ll sit between your guys’ legs. No need to be shy, we all know this is your honeymoon,” Dylan teases. “Get all up in there.”
I open my legs, and Abigail scoots back into the cradle of them, her back to my chest. I wrap my arms around her belly, pulling her in tighter. Her sweet gasp of shock is sexy, and the way she slightly shifts, rubbing her ass against my cock, is surprising and hot as hell.
“Mia rosa,” I growl into her ear.
Dylan smirks, and I wonder how accustomed he is to seeing newlyweds maul each other under the guise of a kayak lesson.
True to his word, he goes over the basics of kayaking with us. There’s a lot about timing and paddle position and even more about working together as a team. “As in marriage, as in the kayak,” he intones sagely.
And then, despite our utter lack of confidence, we’re in the water.
Dylan takes the lead since he knows the way to the private island, with Abigail and me in one kayak and Emily and Doug in another.
It’s awkward at first, and Abigail and I wobble, in danger of tipping over. But we steady ourselves, finding a stability as we row through the calm, clear water.
It feels right, working as a team toward a common goal. As we go, Dylan tells us about the island and the resort and how he came to be here.
“Was surfing in Cali, man. Righteous waves there. But there was a girl—there’s always a girl, ya know?