Chapter 13
thirteen
ORION
I shouldn’t be surprised by how much I like being around her. I should be paying attention to the fort and stopping at every informational sign. But all I care about is her reaction to the fort.
I don’t have to play tour guide on charters. The deckhands and other crew know enough. My job is to sail the boat. But going above and beyond helps with tips.
I’ve clicked to her Instagram often enough to know her primary content is pictures of her demonstrating yoga poses in beautiful locations. In less than two weeks of living here, I’ve begun to recognize her spots. The section of our beach where it’s always empty. The brick wall on the side of the fire station. And of course, Paradise. It’s famous itself. Those have the most likes.
This pose isn’t one I’ve seen before. I’m in awe of the strength it must take to balance on her arms and make it look effortless. Her face is passive, as if it wouldn’t take one strong gust of wind to knock her over. I’m so mesmerized by her flexibility and strength that I almost forget I’m supposed to be taking a picture. I crouch down, making her look larger than life, and align the horizon with the wall and her body and make sure the proportions are where I want them. Then I tap the camera button several times in quick succession.
“Got it.”
She slowly lowers to the ground and jogs over to me.
I’m prepared to go through this multiple times. When I take pictures of guests, inevitably someone blinks and we repeat the process. Carina is a perfectionist, so I expect the same process.
I don’t mind. I could stare at her all day.
A smile inches across her face as she stands close, swiping through the photos. “These are great. Thank you.” She turns toward me and I forget how to think. “You would make a great Instagram boyfriend.” She shakes her head. “For someone else, obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeat. I don’t feel that way. “I would hate spending all our dates taking pictures of you. The food always getting cold because it takes forever for you to pose perfectly with your wine.” At sunset. In a cocktail dress.
“Imagine being up at the crack of dawn to beat the crowds for one perfect shot.”
“I like sunrises. I wouldn’t mind that part.”
She smiles as if the idea of me being her boyfriend, following her around like a puppy, isn’t a terrible thought. She steps away, putting her phone back in her pocket. “I’ll post one later. Do you have a personal Instagram? Or should I tag Lost Craft?”
“Don’t worry about it.” It hurts that she’s not as curious about me and my social media as I am about her. That she so obviously hasn’t looked me up until now. But she’s not missing much since it’s mostly sunrises over water.
“Come on. Let me give you photo credit,” she persists.
I give her my handle, wondering if she’ll even remember it later.
We wander through the rest of the fort. She walks close to me, her body occasionally brushing mine. Every pore of my skin drips sweat in the heat the sea breeze can’t cool. She should keep her distance.
I shouldn’t want her so close.
“Do you want me to inflate a paddleboard for you?” I ask as we approach the beach. Her friends wade in the shallows, engrossed in their fishing rods and whatever story Bristol is sharing.
Carina scoffs. “Your inferior boards will probably kick me off on principle.” Her voice isn’t in the denial.
We hit sand. She pauses, her hand resting on my shoulder for balance while the other pulls her flip-flops off.
“I won’t judge you if you fall or whatever you’re afraid of. You’re a good paddleboarder,” I say. I don’t mind fighting with her over the last few days. At least I know she feels something for me. And for her, fighting is a risk.
I want her to take all the risks with me.
She lets out a huff. “No, it’s not that. It’s hot. I want to go for a swim.”
It’s hotter than hell and the only way to stay even remotely cool is to be in the water. “Sounds like a plan.” I pull off my shirt and toss it on the pile of towels and shoes the group assembled. I head for the water, eager to get some relief.
When I turn around, Carina’s stripped down to her bikini. I should look away, but I can’t. I’ve seen her completely naked, but I’ll never take for granted every inch of skin she shows. My eyes flick toward the constellation tattoo on her side, the tiny stars connected by thin lines to form a shape I know well, and I’m itching to get my hands on it.
“What?” She wades up to me, looking down to her bottoms. “You don’t like the design?”
“Nope, it looks good. Functional.” I shove my hands into my pockets so she doesn’t see me clenching my fists. Anything to distract me. I don’t know how she made a swimsuit so sexy and at the same time ready for whatever activity its wearer has in mind.
Everyone is occupied. No one will miss us if we venture back to the boat and to the forward cabin. It’s a few feet away. We could be there so fast.
She wades in farther. The water is crystal clear and calm, with gentle waves lapping at us. I’m so used to reading the surface of the water, studying the waves for the wind, comparing it to the wind in my sails. But even as my reflexes tell me to look around, to watch the horizon, to check the radar, to notice everything at once, I can only look at her as her body slowly disappears under the surface.
My body desperately misses hers. I’ve never craved a woman the way I crave her. Not even after great sex before. It’s not that she’s rejected me and that made her sexier. That would be fucked up, but logical for some people. Instead, this means she’s something more to me and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I follow, unable to resist her pull. We’re the only two not fishing. No one pays attention to us. The water is shallow, so we’re able to wade far from the beach. She leads, taking us to the other side of the Twisted Rigging so her friends aren’t in our direct line of sight. Is she doing it on purpose? Or is she letting the water carry her?
“Better than Boston?” she asks. She turns to face me and does a modified water treading action. She can touch the bottom sometimes but not always.
“Obviously.” I bend my knees to match her. Only our heads are above the surface. We’re close to each other. I could reach for her under the water and touch her before she reacts. “There is a reason I was only ever there for half the year.”
This past winter was the first one I’d spent there in a long time. My parents were moving out of their house, downsizing to a smaller place, and I’d foolishly agreed to help. Then I met Megan and somehow ended up staying at her place too often. Falling into a relationship that for a moment I thought would be forever.
It was a flash in the pan. If anyone had blinked, they would have missed it, the heat gone before it had a chance to do any damage or build anything lasting.
I crave heat and the humidity. I was done with the cold and ready to build something to last.
I didn’t know how much I’d end up craving Carina.
I inch forward. She doesn’t retreat. I’ve seen her a handful of times since I moved in. Every time she’s had her guard up. Now she’s looking at me like she wants me closer. I wonder if it’s the ocean. If the water is her home. If it’s here she’ll give in to what she wants.
She’s a siren calling to me.
The boat blocks us from view of her friends and no one else on the beach is close enough to see what we’re up to.
I stand to my full height. The surface barely breaks my shoulders. A large wave hits, and since she’s treading water, it pushes her into me.
The ocean is on my side.
With finesse I didn’t know I had I lift her up against me. I hold her with one hand on her hip and one on her low back. Her legs open to wrap around my waist.
She’ll be able to feel my erection pressed against her.
She doesn’t react except to drape her arms over my shoulders as I move into deeper water.
“I got you,” I say.
“I know.” It’s almost a whisper, and I strain to hear her over the waves.
I’m so glad she knows. I hold her tight against me. The space around us is beautiful. But Carina holds all my attention.
Her gaze pours into mine. “We shouldn’t do this,” she says, squeezing her legs tighter around me.
I shift my hand so I’m gripping her ass. “We’re not doing anything.”
“We said we wouldn’t. It’s too complicated.”
“There is nothing less complicated than a swim in the ocean.”
“Gulf,” she corrects.
I inch my fingers closer to the edge of her bikini bottom.
I’m prepared to pull away the second she gives me any indication this isn’t what she wants. But she doesn’t. She looks so beautiful, with her hair slicked back and wet. If I kiss her, her lips will taste like salt.
I want to stay here forever, unaffected by the waves crashing around us and whatever creatures swim in these waters.
But someone shouts and panic crosses Carina’s face. It’s rejection of me in the face of the rest of the world.
I do the only thing I can think of—I lift her up and toss her back into the waves.
She surfaces a second later.
“What the fuck was that?” Her expression is shocked and defiant.
I laugh and raise my hands in surrender. “It seemed like a good idea.”
“You bastard.” The heat is gone from her voice, and it’s replaced with something closer to trust and a laugh. She dives under the water and before I’m even able to register where she’s gone, her hands grab my ankles, pulling me under.
So this is how she’s playing it.
I swim, attempting to catch her, but she’s fast and splashes out of the way. I’m almost able to get my arms around her waist again but our game of two-person tag catches the attention of the rest of the group.
“What are you two doing?” Christian asks, moving into view and looking at Carina as if she needs saving. He’s a good-looking dude, standing in the shallows, shirtless with his upper arms and chest covered in tattoos. I wasn’t jealous of him before, but it’s threatening to fester in my mind. He’s married, but I’ve been around him for hours and his wife has only been mentioned in passing by Bristol.
And I might have just had my hands on Carina’s ass. But I want everything else she has to give, including her friendship and familiarity.
“We’re just messing around,” Carina says before splashing me. She has the guilty look of a kid called into the principal’s office. It’s so fucking precious.
“Uh huh.” He’s probably never seen her let loose before. “Careful with her.”
I splash her back. “She won’t fucking break.” I want to remind her of how rough I’d been with her and how much breaking she’d done. Next time we’re alone, I will. Or maybe she doesn’t need reminding.
“Right.” Christian returns to the other side of the Twisted Rigging . I’m not sure if he believes us, or if he’ll trust that we’re adults who can figure things out on our own.
“Asshole,” Carina says.
“Me or him?”
She looks at me horrified. “Christian is one of the nicest men I have ever met. You should hang out with him more. It might rub off on you.”
I get into her space again. “I could rub off on him. Turn him into an asshole.” I don’t give her the chance to respond. I pick her up and toss her into the water again.
“You’ll pay for this!” she yells with a laugh as soon as she surfaces.
“I know. I’m terrible. I got you wet.”
“You wish!” She lunges at me and I catch her, pulling us both underwater.
She’s holding on to me when we surface again. I keep us low so only our heads are above the water. Our legs are intertwined, and no one can see how she’s rubbing against me.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper. “It can be our little secret.”
“I thought you were a big secret,” she breathes.
“I’m whatever you need me to be, princess.”
She doesn’t respond. We hear more shouting. This time she pulls away from me and heads for shallow waters. Bristol caught something, and Christian and Haley help her reel it in.
“We should really get this on ice,” Haley says, looking at me.
“I’ll help you with it,” I respond.
“We’ll pack up things here and meet you back at the boat,” Carina suggests, already gathering everything we’ve scattered on the deserted beach.
She’s back to being the person she is for all of them. I had her wild and free with me for just a few moments. Haley is already wading back to the boat, making sure to keep the fish out of the water. I nod to Carina, already in a worse mood for being separated from her.