bottle into the pile we've collected between us before grabbing a new one out of the cooler and cracking it open. "Not really. Corina's … well, let's just say she's not the kind of girl I'd stick my dick in more than once."
That bothers me for some reason, but I don't reply. Instead, I rest back and stare up at the massive cliff as a hoard of guys from the party above come down the staircase we'd found earlier with giant surfboards at their sides. They make carrying the heavy boards look easy, but I'm sure it's anything but. They're big and clunky and professional grade if the glossy sheen of their surfaces is anything to go by.
I look up when a shadow falls over me. "Hey, Brax."
Braxton's body may be hovering over mine, but his eyes are zeroed in on my friend. "Having fun?" he asks, glaring at Jake.
Reaching up, I slap his washboard abs. "Leave him alone," I snap. "I need someone to hang with since y'all ditched me at the first opportunity and no one else is willing to fucking entertain me."
"Dean hasn't come to see you yet?" I jump when Abel's voice sounds right behind me as well.
Sitting up, I strain around Brax's big ass body and gape when Abel comes striding up, carrying one of the surfboards. Body cut like a fucking Olympic swimmer, the upper half of his wetsuit hangs down revealing the deep grooves along the sides of his abdomen. Curious, my eyes cut back to Brax. Unlike Abel, he's wearing fairly plain board shorts, but they do nothing to diminish the deep v cut of his body that seems like it’s pointing straight down to the front of his pants.
Jesus fuck. I whip back around, snatch my beer up and drain it in one go.
"Nope," I answer quickly.
Abel comes around the side and I try as hard as I can to not watch as he bends over the cooler to grab a beer for himself. "Stubborn asshole," he mutters.
"What?"
He shakes his head, popping the top. "Nothing. Don't worry about it. Are you enjoying yourself?"
I nod and peel my eyes away from his fine ass muscles to look back out to the sea as the waves come crashing in. Two of the others who'd come down with them start out with boards already flat on the water, their bodies pressed down as they paddle into the waves.
"For a prison, it's pretty nice," I comment, lifting my beer again.
Just before Brax lets out a snort, his hand comes down on my head, rubbing awkwardly like one might do to a kid sister. "As if we could keep you here if you didn't want it," he replies.
I can feel Jake's shock like little pinpricks along my skin as he watches the exchange. I ignore both and keep talking to Abel. "So, you surf?"
Abel shoots me a grin and sticks his beer in the sand so it doesn't fall before using two arms to lift his sturdy board and shove the end into the ground. It's at least a foot or more taller than his frame. "Nah, this here's just for decoration," he says sardonically before shaking his head. "Yeah, I’ve been surfing since I was a kid. My mom liked to do it."
"Hmmmm." I watch him with interest. "Do you look like her?” I ask.
He pauses, half-bent over as he reaches for his beer. There's a moment of silence and then he stands up and turns away. "No," he says quietly, "I don't look anything like her." Then without another word he drains his beer, dumps it in our pile, and grabs his surfboard, heading out.
I cock an eyebrow up at Brax questioningly. "It's not you," he says, shaking his head. "His mom's just a sore subject."
"He seems to care about her a lot," I comment. "The Mustang's hers, and now surfing..."
"Yeah." Brax nods, but he doesn't elaborate. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that I've stumbled over something that's just between the three of them. So, I just lie back down on my towel and finish my beer.
Night falls rather quickly when you have nothing better to do than lay under the sun, watch hot guys surf, and drink. Hours later, I've changed out of my swimsuit and into one of the beach dresses Dean had left in my room. It's a dark blue one that ties at the back of my neck and hangs around my thighs, and it's probably