This Fearless Girl (St. Clary's University #2) - E. M. Moore Page 0,50

takes off his snake guards, kicks off his boots, and finally drops his pants around his ankles. “If you don’t want to see what the good Lord gave me, I suggest you look away now.”

Lucas and Stone aren’t even paying attention to him, but I’m in stalker mode, mesmerized by his lower back dimples. He strips his boxers off, flaunting ass cheeks that are perfect, muscular mounds. My mouth drops, and Lucas chuckles. “Showboat.”

His words distract me from Wyatt for a moment until a splash sounds. I quickly glance up to find Wyatt emerging from the surface of the water, whipping his head back and leaving a trail of droplets through the air that splatters the rocky terrain next to us.

“Come on, Tits. Join me.”

“You’re insane,” I call out, laughing.

“What? You never went skinny dipping in Fish Creek before?”

I shake my head, skin buzzing at the prospect. “Never.”

“You’re missing out. I’ve been waiting for this very moment, so I hope you don’t disappoint. It’s not as if I haven’t seen your tits already.”

My face heats at his words, but he’s right about that. I sure do know how to make a name for myself, don’t I?

It takes me all of point five seconds to figure out what I’m going to do. I stand, mimicking Wyatt’s earlier movements and toss my shirt to the ground.

Lucas and Stone gawk at me, shock splaying over their faces, but I don’t dwell on it. Thankfully, I still have a tank top on, hiding my hideous bra.

“Well, shit, I’m in,” Lucas says.

He runs past me as I walk toward the creek bed, his clothes coming off in a whirlwind before he splashes in completely naked. One heartless boy, I could take. But two? And one who I know intimately?

The back of my neck pricks, and I wonder if Stone will join us? Surely, we wouldn’t have to worry about being spied on all the way up here. On second thought, I’m not sure we should take it that far again until he’s, you know, not engaged.

“Come on, Wild Girl,” Lucas beckons me, wading waist high. The stream mustn’t be that deep. I’ll have to crouch the whole time I’m in there unless I want my goods to show. “It feels really good after the hot sun today,” he tacks on like that’s why we’re doing this. Please. We all know why.

I kick off my snake guards and wiggle my pants down. I close in on the edge, deciding to keep my tank top on, but Stone speaks up behind me. “If you’re going in, I’d take everything off. It won’t dry by the morning, so unless you brought spares of everything....”

Wyatt laughs. “Listen to Stone, acting like he’s being all mature by saying he wants our Dakota to take her clothes off because it’ll be better for her tomorrow. Just man up and tell her you want to see her banging body.”

I sneak my trembling hands behind my back to work on my bra. What Stone said does make sense. I’m struggling to get it unclasped when a strong arm moves around my middle. “You seem to forget that I’ve tasted Dakota. I know what she looks like...intimately.”

I gasp at how dirty he made that sound. His hot breath on my ear does delicious things to my insides.

He carefully skims his fingers over my back, just under my tank. He guides my hands away before expertly undoing the clasp on my bra, my breasts falling free from the restraint.

He moves closer in behind me, Wyatt and Lucas transfixed as they watch us from the stream. “You haven’t forgotten, have you, Dakota?” he asks, trailing his knuckles down my arm.

My mouth is suddenly as dry as the Arizona air. All I can do is shake my head no. I most certainly haven’t forgotten.

“Lift your arms, baby,” Stone instructs.

I release a shaky breath and do as he says, my hands reaching toward the stars starting to emerge in the twilight. He takes the hem of my tank top and moves it up, revealing my navel, then my rib cage. When he gets to my bra, he makes sure he takes that, too—lifting until the fresh air caresses my nipples.

Wyatt whistles. “I’d watch that any day of the week.”

My clothes drop to the right of me, dust poofing up from the ground. Stone grips my hips next, his touch solid and possessive. He skims his hands down my thighs, taking my panties with him until I catch them