Chapter 32
Josephine
Of all the ideas I came up with to get back at Decker for the parent stunt, this one was the cheapest and easiest to execute.
Hunter and I were in and out of the grocery store so fast I wasn’t even late to meet up with Kylian in the parking lot of the marina. And just like I suspected, he didn’t ask what was in the extra bags I was hauling.
I’m in the lake now—actually in the water for the first time after weeks of being surrounded by it—floating on my back with my limbs stretched out as far as they can reach.
“Josephine!”
I grin so wide my eyes water at the way he bellows my name.
My ears are submerged, but even with the water muffling the sound, I’m certain he’s still up toward the house, most likely on the upper deck. From that angle, he can very clearly see me where I’m floating. It’s only a matter of time…
The only flaw in my plan was that I wasn’t in the room to see his reaction when he realized that I’d replaced all his beloved almonds with sugary cereal.
And not just any cereal.
Cap’n Crunch.
The water ripples around me as he stomps down the dock. A larger-than-life shadow casts my world into darkness as he looms over the edge of the lake, blocking out the late afternoon sun.
Peeking one eye open, I keep my face placid as I catch my first glimpse of a furious Decker Crusade.
His deep scowl leaves him almost unrecognizable. He looks… villainous. It’s kind of hot, actually, the way the sun is projecting a halo of hazy light around him as he fumes so intensely I half expect smoke to billow out of his ears.
After several seconds of silence, he finally speaks.
“Josephine. Where are my nuts?”
Done. Gone. There’s no hope for me now.
I burst out laughing. The hilarity of his words juxtaposed against the seriousness of his tone sends me into a fit of giggles that threatens to pull me under. Literally. I have to fight to stay above water.
“You think you’re funny?” he demands, pacing the edge of the dock as he fists the ends of his hair.
I can’t. I just can’t. I right myself and tread, because if I keep trying to float while laughing this hard, I’ll surely drown. I had a whole sassy remark locked and loaded about him being an almond daddy, but I thought I’d have to poke and prod to get a reaction out of him.
I never expected him to go this ballistic when I replaced all his almonds and trail mix with Cap’n Crunch.
I’m laughing so hard my stomach’s starting to cramp when I look over and find him staring at me, standing stock still.
His jaw ticks incessantly, his fury so intense I swear he’s vibrating with rage. The sight of him sends me into another fit of giggles.
I’ve officially lost it. I don’t have a care in the whole damn world. After weeks of upheaval because of this man, I finally feel vindicated. And all it took was twenty dollars’ worth of cereal and a stupid prank to level the playing field.
I swipe the tears out of my eyes, then drop back and starfish my arms and legs, floating on my back as I smile up into the sun.
“You can swim?”
Caught off guard by the question, I find my composure and turn toward him, then propel my body backward on instinct when a roguish glint twinkles in his eyes.
He doesn’t bother waiting for an answer. Nor does he repeat himself. Instead, he lowers onto the end of the dock and slowly, methodically, unlaces his shoes.
His socks go next. Then he stands and does that ridiculous thing guys do where he grips the back of his T-shirt at the neck and whips it off in one fluid motion.
I’m transfixed. By the way his hands make quick work of folding his T-shirt. How his arm flexes when he fishes his cell phone out of his pocket and places it in his shoe.
Then his eyes find mine. Bottomless onyx lagoons. Infinite black holes with the power to consume entire galaxies.
He straightens and smirks. Finally, he lifts his hands over his head and dives in.
I was so distracted watching him I don’t have time to swim away.
He breaches the surface inches in front of me, his bare chest so close it brushes against my breasts with each inhale.
I hold my breath, expecting him to pull back the second he realizes that we’re practically sharing oxygen.
But instead of pulling away, he reaches out under the water and drags me closer.
An ironclad grip encases my hips, squeezing so hard it’s almost painful. The crackle of a firework zaps through me, each one of his fingertips a sparkler ablaze.
If I wasn’t submerged in water, I swear this man would be burning me up from the inside.
I want to burn with him.
The thought doesn’t even fully register before he’s lowering his face toward mine, droplets of water cascading off his hair and sprinkling my face.
A single drop lands on my lower lip.
Without my permission, my tongue darts out to sweep it away.
His eyes track the movement, going molten.
And in that moment, I know I’m not the only one under a spell.
I bite my bottom lip, and he growls in warning.
One hand leaves my waist, and the next thing I know, he’s gripping my chin and plucking my lip free from between my teeth.
We’re both treading. Panting. Our bodies boldly brushing against each other again as he watches me with a fire that tells me he wants to set me ablaze as badly as I want to burn for him.
Shaking his head and thumbing my bottom lip, he positions himself close enough to whisper in my ear. It takes every ounce of restraint I possess not to wrap my legs around him.
“You. Are. Infuriating,” he snarls. “Everything you do is designed specifically to piss me off. I do not have the strength to fight you day in and day out. Stop testing me, Josephine.”
Arching out of his grasp, I narrow my eyes and defiantly bite my lip again.
“And if I don’t? What then, Cap? You’ll lock me up and never let me go?”
Strong hands find my bare stomach and grip me tighter. He pulls me so close I can’t tread water.
So I stop trying.
I let go.
I wind my arms around his neck as he wraps his around my low back.
Our bodies dance together in the water, slick and wet, warm and fluid. His grip is tight and unyielding. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Between strong legs, his rigid length taunts me. Unmistakable evidence that though he may hate me, he most certainly wants me.
More than once, his erection presses into the apex of my thighs—a blissful tease that’s there one second, then gone the next. I roll my hips, chasing the pressure. Searching for it again. Needing more of him.
We’re a jumble of limbs, two halves coming together, clinging so tightly that if either of us stops moving, we’ll both go under.
Blinking away the water accumulating on the ends of my eyelashes, I scrutinize Decker. His face is backlit by the setting sun. I loathe to admit it, but he’s beautiful. Sharp angles. Masculine features. Eyes so dark it’s hard to distinguish between the pupil and the iris.
Between the ego and the man, he’s an anomaly.
Stereotypical in so many ways. The alpha male. QB1. Leader of the pack. Envy of his peers.
But then he has these moments…
When he’s deferring to Kylian, trusting him to take the lead.
When he’s checking in with Kendrick and Locke, asking about their pain levels.
When he’s sharing his bed and rubbing my neck, soothing me to sleep.
And now. Holding me so close I swear he might not ever let me go. Peering into my eyes with an unmistakable heat he doesn’t bother to hide.
Until he catches himself, that is.
“Fuck,” he groans. He puffs out his cheeks and shakes his head, releasing us both from the reverie of this uncharacteristically intimate moment.
Once more, he squeezes—his grip so tight on my ass I’m certain I’ll have bruises tomorrow—then he pushes away from me in a jerky movement that partially pulls me under.
Resurfacing, I sputter to clear the water from my throat, disoriented and confused. His arms rise out of the lake in broad strokes as he swims toward the dock.
I watch him push up and out of the water but look away before he can turn around and catch me staring.
Toweling off his face with his shirt, he calls out to me in his typical bossy tone.
“Family dinner’s in less than an hour. You better get washed up.”
And then he takes off toward the house, more tension radiating off him than there is water rolling off his back.
I tread, dumbfounded, and watch him retreat back into himself and the enormous fortress he calls home.
I make a mad dash into the house and back to my room. Mostly because I don’t want to run into Decker. But also because I don’t want to be the last one to the table for family dinner.
I almost slip on the polished wood floors as I circle the island in the kitchen. Mrs. Lansbury is digging through the fridge, and Locke has his back to me, stirring something in a pot on the stove. I almost make it past them unseen.
Almost.
“Hot Girl. Come try this.” He holds up a wooden spoon with what looks like a cream sauce clinging to it. The kitchen smells divine. I honestly would stop and be his taste tester if I had more time. Instead, I shoot him an apologetic look and continue my mission.
“Sorry, Emo Boy. I’ve got to shower before dinner. It smells great, though!”
I take the stairs two at a time, droplets of water cascading down my body and leaving a trail in my wake. I’m moving so fast I don’t see Kylian until his arms dart out to steady me.
“Jo. Whoa. You’re all wet.”
“I know. Gotta shower,” I pant.
“Are you okay? I heard Decker shouting.” He skims my bare arms with both hands and cups my face like I’m the most precious thing in the world.
My heart skips a beat at his concern.
“All good,” I assure him, slipping out of his grasp and hauling ass up the last few stairs to the second-floor landing. Over my shoulder, I grin. “Save me a seat at dinner.”
Kylian smiles, a soft, easy grin that has no right to inspire butterflies in the pit of my stomach the way it does. I’ve noticed he doesn’t smile often, or at anyone else. It’s like he’s saving them all for me.
I’m in such a rush, high on Kylian’s affection and still perplexed by Decker’s behavior, that I’m not paying attention to where I’m going. It’s not until I smack into a warm, wet, shirtless, scowling mass of muscle that I see him.
Kendrick.