Chapter 7
CAMILLE
W e slather each other with more sunblock, which, naturally, leads to more groping. Not that I’m complaining. Having Ashton’s hands on my body and touching his smooth, broad chest, isn’t exactly a hardship.
I don’t bother putting my bikini back on, in deference to my skinny-dipping fantasy. Ash pulls on swim trunks, insisting one of us should be clothed in case the Coast Guard needs to rescue us.
He points to a spot of crystal-blue sea where it’s safe to dive into the water. “There’s no coral reef there,” he assures me. “I’ll toss down a life ring so you’ve got something to hold on to while I lower the tender into the water.”
“Tender.” I grin up at his serious face. “Come on, Ash—what do we really call it?”
He clenches his jaw, feigning annoyance like a champ. “You’re not getting off this boat until I call it a dinghy, are you?”
“Correct.” I laugh as I step to the edge of the deck. Just before jumping, I turn back to face him. “Thanks for this, by the way.” I bite my lip. “For knowing I need to do this alone.”
“Dive off a boat?”
“I know it’s probably one of those things you do all the time. I mean, you own a freakin’ yacht.”
His expression shifts to deep bemusement. “Actually, I never have.”
“Jumped off your own boat?”
“Perhaps I’ll remedy that at some point.” He tugs at a rope that’s holding the tender—the dinghy—in place. “But please, be my guest. Dive to your heart’s content.”
Some over-explainy urge prompts me to say more.
To make sure he understands. “I just need to do it by myself. Jump off the boat? Not holding hands with the hot billionaire I’m banging on a vacation fling.
” I should stop talking, but I need him to know we’re on the same page.
That we’re both committed to not making this more than it is.
“Just me in my birthday suit, soaring through the air, diving into the Caribbean Sea by myself.”
“I understand completely.” Ash frowns. “Though, if you want to get technical, this is actually the Strait of?—”
“Goodbye, Ash Hole.” I blow him a kiss, then swan dive off the side of the boat.
For four or five seconds, time stands still.
I arc through the air like a professional diver, though I probably look more like a kid doing her first launch off the high dive at a public pool.
Turquoise water sparkles below and the wind whips my hair.
I feel powerful and free as I slice through the water, then paddle my way back to the top.
“Wooo!” I shout as I come up for air.
The first thing I see is his face at the edge of the boat, looking surly and overprotective. “Next time,” he growls, “don’t stay underwater so long.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He winces, then goes back to unhooking the dingy. “Stay close,” he mutters.
And I do. I paddle around in the crystal-clear water, loving the ripple of waves caressing my body.
It’s the perfect temperature, cool enough to feel refreshing, but warm enough I could swim here all day.
I roll onto my back and float for a while, exposing my belly and breasts to the sun.
Gentle waves lap at my ears as I bob on the surface and forget all my troubles for a few blissful minutes.
It's been way too long since I did anything like this. Unlike Sara and Eve, I didn’t grow up steeped in purity culture. I skinny-dipped plenty in high school and college, and it was never a big deal.
But somewhere along the way, I forgot what it feels like to have fun.
To chase my own pleasure for the sake of pure bliss instead of just counseling patients to do it.
There’s that old saying about the cobbler’s kids going shoeless, and if I’m honest with myself, that’s been me.
I’ve urged so many patients to better their sex lives, while Hayden and I slowly drifted apart.
When’s the last time we had sex anyplace other than our bed?
Or in bed, for that matter? At least three weeks.
That’s been our pattern these last few years, and I own at least a piece of that.
It’s not like I bought sexy lingerie and asked Hayden to come home early.
Or surprised him in his office with a blowjob like I might have done eight or nine years ago when he worked late.
As mad as I am at Hayden for forgetting our wedding, I forgot romance for much longer than that. We both did.
A splash to my right pulls me out of my back float and I watch as Ash lowers the small boat beside me, then does whatever the hell sailor guys do to secure it.
I tread water nearby, gauging the distance to the shore.
It’s two hundred yards at most, but it’s nice knowing the dinghy’s here if one of us gets into trouble.
“Oh, look!” I point as a big school of bright blue and yellow fish ripples past. “What are they?”
“Fairy basslet.” He holds out a snorkel and mask. “Here.”
“Thank you.” I wriggle the mask on over my face, biting down on the mouthpiece of the snorkel. I probably look like a goober, but who cares? Ash points me closer to shore. “Halfway between here and the beach, there’s a really nice reef. Look for parrotfish.”
“Thanks.” I have no idea what a parrotfish looks like, but it sounds colorful.
I paddle that way, delighted by bright-green angelfish and something with yellow and black stripes.
A long, skinny fish thing glides past on my right but doesn’t pay me any mind.
I’m not harming him, he’s not harming me. Perfect.
When a ray swims beneath me, I watch for a while before pulling my face from the water. “I just saw a giant a portobello mushroom with wings!”
Ash chuckles and slips into the water. A couple broad strokes bring him close to my side. “Having fun?”
“This is amazing.” I search with my toes before planting my feet on the sandy bottom. Tossing the mask in the dinghy, I open my arms as Ash reaches my side. “Thanks for this.”
“You’re welcome.” His slippery skin brushes mine as our limbs twine together under water. “How’s the skinny dipping?”
“Exhilarating.” I spit water on his chin by accident when I say it, but he doesn’t brush it away.
“Glad you’re enjoying yourself.” He pushes a wet hank of hair off my face. “Are you ready for the nude sunbathing portion of today’s planned fantasy schedule?”
“I’m not ready to get back on the boat yet.”
“Who said anything about the boat?” He nods toward the wide swath of sandy shore. “There’s a perfectly respectable beach right here.”
I squint at the pristine white sliver of sand. At the gigantic mansion beyond it. “Won’t the rich snobs who live there get mad if I wander buck-naked onto their property?”
“Let me check.” Ash stares blankly at the house for a moment. “It doesn’t appear so, no.”
“Wait.” I blink. “That’s your house?”
“Indeed.”
“Holy shit, Ash Hole.” I gape at the mansion, trying to see where the structure starts and ends. The part I can see looks massive, and more of it vanishes into the jungle. “Are you housing all five-dozen consorts there?”
“If you’re going to mock, you can’t use my beach.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Twisting my fingers behind his neck, I wrap my legs around him.
Anchored in place like this, I’m in a better position to study the house.
Huge panes of glass reflect the surrounding palm trees and lush vines.
The woodwork blends naturally into the foliage, and even the deck looks constructed to be part of the forest. “Is that a barn and a paddock on the other side?”
“It is.”
“You have horses?”
“I don’t.”
“You keep ill-behaved consorts there?”
He chuckles and kisses the edge of my jaw. “Just resort guests who show up without a reservation.”
I laugh as I tip back my head, giving him access to kiss down my throat. “You should get ponies.”
“Is this some sort of pony play joke?” His voice sounds muffled as his mouth moves over my skin.
“Nope.” I moan as he finds the sweet spot between my neck and my shoulder. “I just think ponies are adorable.”
“I certainly need more adorable in my life.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “Glad we agree.”
“Hmm.”
My gaze drifts back to his house. It’s huge but it really is lovely. I love how it blends into the landscape. “Your home is gorgeous.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s huge .”
“I believe you established that yesterday.”
Laughing, I squeeze my thighs around his hips. “How long have you lived there?”
“Eighteen years, give or take. I built it before I built Crystal Bliss.”
I wait for more details, but he doesn’t elaborate. There’s something in his eyes I can’t read. A distance between us. Something melancholy and tender.
As I open my mouth to ask more, there’s a sharp, painful zap on the side of my thigh.
“Ow! Holy shit!” Sucking in saltwater, I choke. I’m flailing and splashing and yelping in pain. “What the fuck was that?”
“What?” Ash pats my sides, eyes growing frantic. “What is it, what happened?”
I howl in reply, fighting to form words. Holy fuck, that hurts.
“Leg cramp?” Ash tries to grab me, but I’m shrieking and swatting at the water around me.
“Sting!” I’m screeching in pain, hoping he grasps that I don’t mean the English pop star. “Something stung me.”
“Shit.” His eyes scan the water. Then he mutters a long string of curses and something that sounds like Pink Meanie.
“Who are you calling a pink meanie?”
“It’s a type of jellyfish.” Ash points to a spot over my left shoulder. “See that rose-colored shape over there?”
I squint through the water, my thigh still throbbing with pain. “The blob that looks like bloody snot?”
“Correct.” His hands stroke my thigh and I yelp.
“Ow! What are you doing?”
“Trying to see if there are any tentacles stuck in your skin.”
“It’s not fatal, is it?” I traveled to Australia once and heard horror stories about box jellyfish.
“Not fatal,” he confirms. “But it can be quite uncomfortable.”
“No shit.” It feels like someone took a cattle prod to my thigh.
“Come on.” Ash drags me into his arms.
“Where are we going?”