Surrender (Seaside Pictures #4) - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,29

told my body it was a stellar idea even though my dick had been onboard days ago.

But my stupid heart, the one that fought between dark and light, wrong and right, said, wait.

Just wait.

I hated that word, wait.

“Something bad?” She shifted enough that the water lapped around us again, giving me a brief glimpse of rosy nipples.

I hated that all my brain could conjure up was the word touch. I had no poetry, nothing, just touch, want, lick. Mine.

All the things I wasn’t supposed to be doing as I tried to politely engage in conversation that would not end up in any sort of sexual position.

Shit.

Maybe it was good for me, this waiting business. Maybe I’d just lie to myself and say it was for the best since it was only a week, but even as I thought it, I knew it was so much more — that it would be so much more because, above all else, I was a fantastic liar.

I lied to myself that I didn’t need anyone.

I lied to myself that I was happy.

And I lied to myself that I wouldn’t get attached.

I said that lie when I was already on my way to confessing extreme like toward someone who probably tolerated me at best.

“Yeah,” I said the word emerging from my throat gruffer than I’d expected.

“Well…” Bronte turned and looked up at me.

The steam from the hot water had her hair curling around the nape where it was damp. I wanted to tug on it, to taste it, to wrap it around my fingers, take it hostage.

“When I was in high school, I had this teacher who always seemed to pick on me, and he always did it in front of the class, even though I had really great grades. Anyway, he was super anal about his desk, so every day for a year, I would slowly move things around. He cracked on the last day when his coffee cup was in the wrong spot.”

I laughed. “That’s funny and deserved, not bad.”

“Oh, I wasn’t finished,” she teased. “He was always falling asleep at his desk. He wasn’t the best teacher, and he was a hard sleeper. We decided to wrap him up in Saran Wrap then send him sailing down the hall with his coffee cup taped to his hand. The sign across his chest said ‘Will strip for coffee.’”

I winced and then erupted in laughter. “Please tell me he had all his clothes on.”

“Of course.” She laughed. “But he was single, and the principal had a huge crush on him, so she thought he was doing it as a prank, and the rest of my class only encouraged that notion when they started throwing rose petals as if he’d used us to set her up. She sat right on his lap, planted the biggest kiss on his mouth, and cried.”

“Noooo,” I said, laughing. “That’s so mean! The poor guy!”

“Hey!” She poked me in the chest. “They got married a year later.”

“That’s a happy story, not a bad story,” I pointed out.

“True.” She lay against my chest, her cheek hot, pressed to my skin. I started playing with her hands as they intertwined with mine. “But the whole point was revenge, and I got it. They had triplets a year after that. He’s bald now by the way, not that kids are a curse, total blessing—”

“Poor guy’s probably still stressed. Tell me they were at least—”

“Girls.” She sighed happily. “All three of them.”

More laughter bubbled up. “Yeah, okay, so it has a happy, albeit stressful ending?”

“Pretty much.” She chuckled and then shifted, her fingers accidentally grazing my cock.

My body jerked.

“Sorry.” Her cheeks flamed bright pink.

I frowned. “I’m not, so don’t apologize.”

She gulped and then looked down. “I wasn’t thinking…”

“Good.” I gripped her by the hips, then picked her up and straddled her legs over my body. “I don’t want you to think— Even though this totally sounds like a line, you know you’re safe with me. Your rules. I won’t do anything you don’t ask for.”

She chewed her lower lip, making me jealous as hell. “What if I don’t know what to ask for?”

“Then we play a guessing game of hot or cold.”

“Ha.” She sobered. “Oh, you’re serious?”

“Try me.”

“But—”

I grabbed her hand and pressed it to my chest. “Hmm… cold.” I lowered her hand under the water. “Getting warmer…”

She jerked her hand away. “I think I know how it works.”

“Then play with me,” I challenged in a hushed whisper. The darker parts of my soul