"It's a job." Her eyes light up as she laughs.
"You still have five."
"I'm good for them." Her hands go to the board. In one swift motion, she jumps to her feet.
Her form is good. Her sheer power is fantastic. She's strong and she's tiny. Makes it easy for her to manipulate her bodyweight.
The aikido obsession shows.
I try to focus on her technique, but it's hard with the way her tank top hugs her tits. Fuck, she's hotter than she was in high school. Strong legs. Tight ass. Perfect tits.
They're bigger than they were.
How the fuck is that possible?
Chloe isn't the surgical enhancement type. Must be… fuck, I don't care what it is.
Only how much I want my hands on them.
"There." She jumps off the board, brushes her hands together in a no sweat gesture. "That's six."
Sounds about right.
Her chest heaves with her inhale. She's flushed and sweaty. From the exercise, but that's not where my head is going. "Any other lessons?"
"Show me your best paddle."
"I was on the swim team for four years."
"You swim recently?"
"At the gym, twice a week." Her feet sink into the sand as she steps off the board. "I'm getting in the water."
I point to the wetsuit I rented for her, the one sitting on the sand. "Yours if you want it."
She eyes it greedily. "Are you wearing one?"
It's a challenge. I won't if you don't.
It's a stupid challenge—why freeze when you don't have to-but then I've never been particularly wise about knowing when to back down.
"I can." I nod to my backpack.
"What are you wearing under that?" She motions to my jeans.
I laugh. "Eager beaver."
"Don't call me beaver."
"If I can call you sunshine."
"Can I stop you?"
"No."
"Sure. Call me sunshine. But only because I know getting my permission will ruin the whole thing for you."
"That's where you're wrong, sunshine."
She makes a show of rolling her eyes, but it does nothing to hide her smile. She may have hated the pet name once. Hell, she probably hated it Monday. But all day, she's smiled every time she heard it.
It's growing on her.
And I could be—
Uh-uh. Not going there.
"You know what? I don't care." She pulls her tank top over her head and drops it next to her bag. "I'm getting in the water." Her hands go to her hips. She unzips her jeans and pushes them to her ankles.
She's wearing a tight swimsuit. A lap swimsuit.
Like she wore every fucking day on swim team.
Fuck, that brings me back.
Sends my thoughts straight to the gutter. I spent a lot of nights in high school thinking about stripping her out of that thing.
And now she's standing on the sand, staring up at me with that fire in her eyes, daring me to strip and chase her.
It would be heaven if not for one ugly little fact:
I can't have her.
She picks up the board and hugs it to her side. "You're still dressed."
"You want a show, sunshine?"
She sticks her tongue out.
"You flatter me." I roll my hips as I bring my hands to the bottom of my t-shirt. Slowly, I peel it over my head. Toss it next to her pile of clothes.
She raises a brow really?
Hell yes. I do my best hip thrust. Make a show of unzipping my jeans and sliding them off my hips.
She laughs as I turn, bend over, shimmy the jeans down my legs.
"Oh God. You're…" Her breath catches. "You're not wearing that."
"But I am." I turn to her. Snap the waist of my Speedo. "Aren't you used to seeing me in this?"
"I've blocked it from my mind."
Bullshit. She's held onto it tightly. Thought of me the way I thought of her. But there's no sense in pushing her.
It's only going to make me want her more.
And I don't need the blue balls.
"Are you coming or what?" She turns toward the ocean. Watches tiny waves crest, foam, roll into the sand.
I follow her across the sand.
Even with the board, she's fast.
She squeals as her toes hit the water. "Fuck. That's cold."
"Not too late for a wet suit."
She shakes her head no way as she runs into the water. She shrieks as a wave hits her waist. "God. I… Fuck it." She sets the board on the water. Grabs the leash. Dives in headfirst.
When in Rome…
I do the same.
Fuck. That's freezing. But tolerable.
When I surface, she's already on the board, paddling into the surf.
She presses herself up to go over a cresting wave.
Fuck, is this a nice view. Every inch of her is on display. Her strong legs. Her tight ass. The folds of her cunt.
My cock stirs. I tell it to calm down, but that's a fruitless endeavor. My head is already filling with thoughts of bringing her home and stripping her out of that wet swimsuit.
"You coming?" She turns her head to look back to me.
At this rate, yeah. I dive under the water. Think of work and surfing technique and my brother erasing my existence from his mind if I do fuck Chloe.
None of that helps. But the cold water is enough to temper the heat building inside me.
Seeing her like this is not good for our professional relationship.
And even though I'd never, in a million years, admit it to her, teaching Chloe how to do ink matters to me.
I'm not gonna fuck it up.
She paddles past the break point. Pushes herself up and slings her legs over the surfboard.
"You look like a regular," I say.
"How many times do I have to say, 'I know how to surf' before you get it?"
"You keeping track?"
"No. I think I'll just round up to infinity."
"Good call."
She stares out at the white sky. There's a streak of blue to our right. Everywhere else, puffy, grey clouds cover the sun.
"How'd you get from college to Inked Hearts?"
"A lot of begging. I think Ryan would be happy to never hear my voice again."
I shake my head. "He likes you."
"I think so." Her gaze shifts to the water. "But it's hard to tell with him."
"He probably says the same about you."
"Probably."
"You have better credentials than any of us."
"But no experience." She looks up at the sky. "I'm grateful for the opportunity to work with Ryan, Walker, and Brendon. You, on the other hand—"
"You bow down at my greatness."
"Roll my eyes at your stupidity."
"To-may-to, to-mah-to."
Her eyes catch mine as she turns back. Watches a wave crest. "You were better than I was. In high school. You were the better artist."
"We were neck and neck."
"Mrs. White chose you every time."
"She didn't like you."
"She really didn't."
"What did you do to her?"
"Nothing." She spins on her board. Pulls her knees into her chest then folds her legs over each other. "I guess I'm just…"
"Prickly?"
She nods without offense. "Yeah."
"Isn't that what you're going for?"
"No… Maybe…" Her eyes find mine. "It doesn't matter. I have a good thing going now."
"Guys asking you to whip them?"
"Do I seem like a dominatrix?"
"Kinda."
"Are you into that?"
"I'll try anything once."
"You haven't?"
"Never."
Surprise spreads over her expression. "Bullshit." She pulls her arms over her chest. Rubs her triceps to stay warm. "As many women as you've been with. One of them must have tried."
"Never." The cold water nips at my toes. But
everywhere else, I'm warm. This conversation is not a good idea. It's already doing shit to me.
"That shocks me."
I move closer. Until my hands are on her surfboard. And my head is six inches from her toes. "I live to shock you."
She looks down at me. "Anything else you haven't tried?
"A long list."
"Bullshit."
"Never taken it up the ass."
A laugh bursts from her lips. Her eyes light up. Her hand goes to her mouth. "Oh my God." She hugs her stomach. "That's the first place you go?"
"First thing that came to mind."
"Why would you even—"
"Lots of chicks are into it."
Her nose scrunches with distaste. "They are not."
I nod are too. All right. It might not be lots of women. But I have had the request before.
"What else?"
"Never been with a guy."
"What about a threesome?"
"With a guy and a girl? Yeah."
"You like it?"
"Depends. It's always been with couples. It's weird, being a guest star in their fantasy."
"Weird good or weird bad?"
"Both. It feels pretty bad ass. But it's impersonal. Like I'm a prop."
"You've never with a friend and a random girl?"
"Sunshine, I hate to burst your bubble, but I don't have those kinds of friends."
"Shit. I was kinda hoping you and Ryan." She winks. "Don't tell Leighton."
"I won't. You shouldn't either. She'll kill you."
"She seems tough."
"She is."
Her painted black fingernails tap the fiberglass. "What else have you never done?"
"I thought you were done with our game?" I push myself onto the board, turn, sit next to her.
"These waves are shitty."
They are. And I'd rather talk to her any day. Still. I brought her here for a reason. I need her feeling the thrill of catching a wave. I need that excitement in her eyes. That feeling that she can do anything.
Fuck, I thought this had something to do with being her teacher.
Maybe it does.
But that's not what's motivating me.
It's not wanting to teach her or wanting to fuck her or wanting to fuck with her.
It's wanting her.
Period.
I throw my head back, sending my wet hair with it. "Three waves. Then we talk."
"It's my turn."
"It is."
Her hand brushes my shoulder as she brings it to her hair. She moves closer. Until her shoulder is brushing mine.
Her brow furrows with confusion.
She doesn't get how we're this close.
I know better than to stay this close.
But I don't move. "I'm waiting."
"I, um, I have another idea."
"Yeah?"
"Ten fingers," she says. "First one out has to catch three waves."
"You're that interested in my sex life."
"You chicken?"
"Never." I offer my hand.
She shakes. "You first. I'll give you the advantage. Since you need it."
That's probably true. "Never have I ever taken it up the ass."
She makes a show of holding out all ten fingers. "Really?"
"Really."
"Do I seem like the type?"
"Yeah."
"What's that mean?"
"Well, you heard Rick. You're a tiny package of kink."
She flips me off. "Really?"
"No. But you seem game for anything."
"I feel like I should hit you."
"Just being honest."
She laughs. "It's ridiculous, but I believe that in your mind, that's a completely appropriate response." She runs her fingers through her wet hair. "Okay. My turn." She twirls a strand around her finger. "Never have I ever kissed a stranger."
"Fuck." I drop a finger. "You gonna continue this line of questioning?"
"Of course." Her smile spreads over her cheeks. "I play to win."
"You're cruel."
She copies my shrug. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not.
It's adorable.
She taps my shoulder. "Your turn."
"Never have I ever taken an AP class."
"I thought this game was about sex."
"Didn't specify that."
She drops a finger. Shakes her head. What bullshit. "Never have I ever fucked a cheerleader."
"You like girls?"
"No."
"Not fair."
"There are male cheerleaders."
"Not at our school."
"Still. They exist." She nods to my pointer finger. "Drop it, dick face."
"You ever gonna realize I take that as a compliment?"
"You know, you're right."
"I am?"
"I can't call you a dick face anymore. Your dick is special enough to have jewelry. Your face on the other hand…"
"I need to get a nose ring?"
She laughs. "Eyebrow maybe."
"Lip?"
"Tongue."
"Never have I ever fucked someone with a tongue ring," I say.
"Bull."
"It's true."
"Whatever." She drops her finger. "How did you know—"
"Everybody knew about you and—what was his name?"
"Kurt."
"That was after you left."
"I kept up on gossip." Even though we're essentially alone out here—there are another half a dozen surfers, but they're spread out, focused on the waves—I lean in to whisper. "Is it true what they say?"
"What is it they say?"
"Tongue rings blow your mind?"
"Oh, when they're—" She motions to her crotch.
Fuck, it's adorable. "Yeah."
"No… not in his case. But I'm not ruling it out as a possibility."
"Scientific."
She does her best Dean impression. "Should have stuck with me, sunshine. I would have blown your mind every night, three times a night."
"Sixty-nine times a night."
Her cheeks flush. "I've never."
"Really?"
"Drop it, Maddox."
Fuck, the way she says my last name… it's not burning hate or irritation or even raw desire. It's something softer. Something that hits me everywhere.
I drop my finger. "I'm sad for you."
"Uh-huh."
"You're missing out."
"Spare me the offer to enlighten me."
"You think I go down on any gorgeous woman who asks?"
"Yeah."
I can't exactly deny the allegations. "You think that little of yourself?"
"You can have low standards and still be with someone primo."
I can't help but smile. She makes an excellent point.
A wave rolls beneath us. Crests. Falls. Crashes into the sand and turns to white foam.
"That one was better," I say.
"It's your turn." She holds up her eight fingers. Nods to my mine. "You didn't drop your finger."
I do. "Never have I ever taken a self-defense class."
"I'm starting to think you entered this game under false pretenses." She drops a finger.
"I play to win."
"So do I." She turns to the horizon. Watches a set roll in. "Never have I ever suggested someone sit on a surfboard and talk instead of surfing."
"You suggested this."
"Did not."
"You started it."
"Absolutely not."
"All right. We both started it. Lose a finger."
She gnaws on her bottom lip, turning over my words. "Fine." She drops to seven fingers.
I'm down to six.
I pull my feet from the water. Copy her cross-legged position.
The air feels cold against my wet skin, so I move closer.
Closer.
Until I can feel the heat of her body.
Fuck, it feels good.
Too good.
I look down at her
. "Never have I ever chickened out of giving a tattoo."
"I didn't chicken out."
"Bullshit."
"I was concerned about your mental health. You should be thanking me."
"Drop. The. Finger."
She does. She pulls her knees into her chest. Wraps her arms around them. "It's freezing, huh?"
"Not too late for the wetsuit."
"Nope. We have to finish this game so I can warm up properly."
No, she has to strip out of that swimsuit so I can warm her up properly.
My cock stirs.
I tell it to get lost.
That isn't happening.
No matter how badly I want it.
"Never have I ever tormented a subordinate," she says.
"Am I that awful?"
She nods, but it's with a smile.
There's a part of her that likes the way I tease her.
That wants more of it.
More of me.
More of us.
But now I'm getting ahead of myself.
Chapter Twelve
Chloe
Truth be told, I haven't been surfing in ages.
Since way, way before my body betrayed me.
It's not like I was ever an expert. Gia and I went surfing a grand total of three times. We probably rode less than a dozen waves each.
I refuse to admit any of that to Dean.
He pretends like he doesn't notice. Cops some overbearing couch routine as he reminds me how to paddle, how to feel for the wave, how to jump.
It takes five tries, but I finally catch a wave.
Then another.
Another.
Another.
I surf until the beach is crowded with tourists and families. Until my lips are blue and my toes are numb and my body is screaming for food and water.
It feels good wanting something physical. Wanting everything physical.
I ride the wave into the beach. Return the board with Dean. Go back to our stuff.
"Freezing?" He pulls a towel from his bag and tosses it to me.
I wrap it around my shoulders. "Maybe."
He grabs another. Towel dries his hair haphazardly. It falls in messy waves as he wraps the towel around his shoulders.
He stays in his Speedo.
It's… I…
Why does he have to be so hot? It's wrong.
A deep breath keeps my expression neutral. "You're getting looks."
"Why's that?"
"Curious, yeah?"
He nods. "People are weird." He stretches his arms over his head. Lets out a yawn. "Don't know about you, but I could go for some Golden Needle."
My cheeks flush. It was a bitch move criticizing his tea selection. But Dean doesn't seem like a guy who drinks tea, much less cultivates an assortment of rare teas. And… well, that's no excuse. But Dean doesn't respond to earnest apologies. "You couldn't pick it out of a line up."
Hating You, Loving You Page 10