12. Anastasia #2
My mouth drops open because there is no fucking way he’s insinuating what I think he is.
Suddenly it’s not the California sun burning my skin.
I flick a look to Rhett, who must have caught onto his meaning with the scary glare he pins to the oblivious Adam, and now I wish it was quicksand beneath me to drag me away.
A referee blows a whistle and throws me the volleyball, which I nearly make the embarrassing first impression of missing. I hand it to Rhett, because I wasn’t kidding when I said I fear eating sand for dinner.
I brace as Rhett does and try not to get distracted by how sexy he looks throwing the ball in the air, all stretched-out torso and a look that could kill with the volley he sends over the net with a powerful hit.
Then it’s all sand, volleyball, and crushing Adam fucking Sullevan no matter what.
Any time the ball comes to me I mostly act as a boost so Rhett can step in and shoot it with impressive force over the net.
We score twice. They score once. I didn’t expect to lose myself and enjoy this as much as I am.
I like working out, but I’ve had little time and opportunity for sports, save for the occasional family tennis match or badminton on a day out.
Rhett and I move like magnets. We communicate with few words but a lot of gravity.
Sometimes our skin grazes and it sparks through me.
We’re sweaty and focused, and it’s so exhilarating I don’t even care about the score anymore.
I jump for joy and we double high-five when we score, but even when Sullevan gains points our spirit doesn’t break.
Rhett often throws me a grin that takes my breath away for how rare the sight is.
It’s like he’s forgotten the world that weighs on him in this carefree time, and it’s precious.
We have five minutes to even the score with Adam now in the lead, and that’ll bring us to a tiebreaker.
I push the ball into the air and Rhett hits it across, but Nathan dives to catch it, and Adam jumps to slam it over the net directly in front of me.
All I can do is brace for the force of the ball hitting me.
It doesn’t.
Rhett saves me from the blow that would have no doubt hurt like a bitch, but it costs us the game when he hits it down under the net.
“Thanks,” I breathe.
“Anytime. But we lost.”
I click my tongue. “I hope those shorts are waterproof.”
The whistle blows and the crowd erupts. I don’t care, or really pay any attention, as despite the loss I can’t wipe the grin off my face. My fingers unhook the button of my shorts and Rhett’s gaze dips down.
“Wet denim is not comfortable,” I say, shimmying out of them and jogging back to throw them with our things. When I return, Rhett hasn’t moved an inch.
“Never seen a woman in a bikini before?”
His blue eyes snap to me. “You’re not just any woman,” he says, taking my hand as we head to the water.
People follow, but I hardly pay attention. I sigh contentedly at the first feel of the cool water lapping past our ankles.
“It’s pretty far. You sure you have the stamina?” he quips.
“It’s you who needs to worry about stamina. I’m just hitching a ride.”
It takes straining on my toes to reach his shoulders, until he crouches enough for me to jump up and hook my legs around his waist. Giggles erupt out of me as he grips my thighs and hoists me up his back.
Then he walks deeper into the water. His skin is heated and slick against mine, and his hair smells so damn good.
I’m thinking inappropriate things again, but it’s hardly my fault this time.
Okay, it was my impulse that made me jump on his back, but I don’t actually expect him to swim the whole way with me.
Rhett is a surprisingly powerful swimmer considering the additional cargo.
“I’m only doing this so the sharks will eat you first,” I say.
He huffs a laugh. “I’m only agreeing because it’s my job.”
After a few more strides I let him ago. At least I try to, but Rhett catches me around the waist before I can get even a foot away.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I didn’t seriously expect you to carry me the whole way. What am I to do if you pass out?”
“I won’t.”
“I can’t risk that. Good bodyguards are hard to come by these days.”
“You’re finally admitting your want for me?”
No. I will not—shall not, cannot—admit any want for Rhett Kaiser.
“You might be mildly better than whatever forty-year-old will likely have to take your place.”
“Fair.”
“Race?”
“There’s no chance of you?—”
I splash water in his face before I’m swimming away harder than I ever have before. I used to do laps in our pool frequently and pretend there was a shark on my heels to surge my adrenaline faster. It’s not far from the truth now, when the thought of Rhett catching up gives a similar effect.
He grabs my ankle when I’m just shy of reaching the buoy, and I barely get to scream before I’m dragged underwater.
Rhett’s strong arms pull me up just as quickly, and I clamp myself around him, pushing the hair out of my face and laughing like a child being caught.
Saltwater stings my eyes, and it takes a moment to blink his face into focus.
Distant cheering breaks out on the shore, and I see the crowd of people watching our forfeit.
Rhett holds the buoy as we float, watching me with a softness I’ve never seen before.
I do something so impulsive. Unwarranted.
With him this close I don’t know what comes over me, but I bring my head down and kiss him.
Immediately I realize what I’ve done and pull away, but his hand reaches around my nape to hold me there. Then he’s kissing me back. I’m sliding a hand into his hair and moaning softly into his mouth as my fingers tighten.
“Ana,” he groans, pained, against my lips.
My heart slams in my chest. “Sorry,” I say, a little breathless from the unexpected kiss.
I have no excuse for it. No press to blame.
“Race back?” I say, needing to get the hell away from him.
“Ana—”
I let go of him before he can finish and focus all my efforts on the burn of swimming back, trying not to give in to the desire to drown instead to avoid the awkwardness of what I’ve done.