Stand-In Saturday (Love For Days #2) - Kirsty Moseley Page 0,74
into the rowboat, waiting until she’s seated before the guy from the hire place and I ease the boat into the water. She’s grinning as she grips the sides, laughing when the boat rocks from side to side as I clamber in, too, and sit on the seat, facing her. Gripping the oars, I row us out. Lucie sighs in contentment and leans back, stretching out her legs so they go between mine, crossing her ankles. Her hair is piled up in a messy bun high on top of her head. She’s wearing a flowery, fitted pink crop top that exposes an inch of luscious belly and a pair of frayed jean shorts that cut off mid-thigh. Her legs are long and take up all my attention. I’m pretty sure the girl is trying to kill me.
We chat back and forth about our lives, our jobs, movies, books—everything really. It’s so easy to talk to her that it’s sort of scary. She even has a go at rowing for a bit because she said she’s never tried before, and then we just sit in the middle of the loch and float. No one else is around; they’re all likely packing, seeing as it’s going-home day, and pretty much the whole hotel was taken up with wedding guests. We have to go soon, too, but we have another half an hour at least before we even need to think about going ashore to pack.
It’s peaceful, tranquil, and perfect. As we sip on bottled water and Lucie plays music through her phone, I realise it couldn’t be any more romantic even if I’d tried.
It’s quiet but a nice quiet. Companionable and easy. Birds chirp, water laps on the sides of the boat, the girl sitting opposite me is exquisite. This is pretty much one of the best days of my life.
Lucie tips her head back onto her shoulders, basking in the sun, legs stretched out in front of her, her top showing yet hiding all her perfect curves. My eyes rake over her, my artist’s brain cataloguing the shadows and lines, her serene expression, the freckles peeking out from under her sunglasses, the dip at her collarbone, how the sun kisses her skin. I’m itching to draw her again, just like this.
“I wish I’d brought my sketchpad.” I frown at my own lack of forethought.
She smiles over at me. “Yeah, the view is amazing.” She shields her eyes with her hand and looks out over at the mountains peaking in the distance.
“It is,” I agree, my voice gravelly with lust again, my gaze fixed on her.
She turns back to look at me, and a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
Leaning over the side, she dips her hand into the water before pulling it out, only to lazily draw her wet fingers across the base of her throat. The move makes my balls tighten. I’m not sure she meant it to be sexy—she’s likely hot, and she wanted to cool down—but intentional or not, I’m now at full mast. Beads of water run between her breasts, and I watch avidly, imagining following the wet trail with my tongue.
She dips her hand again. “Ever done it on a boat?” she asks casually, tracing her palm across the smooth surface of the loch.
I blink, my mouth popping open. No way. She isn’t saying … “Seriously? You want to do it now?”
She turns back to face me, her eyebrows shooting up. “Theo, I’m not saying I want to have sex with you on the boat.”
“Oh.” Disappointment hits me harder than I’m ready for. I clearly read the situation wrong. My pervert hopes were raised and then dashed in less than ten seconds.
She leans in closer; her smile is a smirk. “I’m also not, not saying it.”
Laughing, I catch on immediately. Nodding eagerly, I reach for the buttons on my shorts at the same time she reaches for hers.
Best. Damn. Weekend. Ever.
“I’ve decided I’m buying a boat,” I announce.
Lucie laughs and watches as I hop out of the rowboat, pulling it further up onto the sand so her shoes won’t get wet when she disembarks.
As she jumps off the boat and onto the beach, she winces and shifts on her feet. “Oh my God, I’m not sure I can walk; you know, you might have to carry me. I’m not used to all this sex. My poor cooch has taken a battering in the last twelve hours.”