Chapter 19 #3
"Oh. Yeah, I can show you," I tell Skye, holding out my hand to help her down onto the dock, trying to ignore the electricity that shoots through me when her fingers wrap around mine.
"Awesome," Harper says with suspicious enthusiasm. "So I'll meet you guys there."
"Sounds good," I reply.
"You good?" Harper checks with Skye one last time, something meaningful passing between them.
Skye smiles at my daughter and nods. "All good."
Harper takes off with practiced ease, the jet ski roaring to life beneath her as she speeds away across the water, leaving us alone.
I scoot back to make room for Skye to sit in front of me, and immediately realize I might not have thought this through completely.
She straddles the seat with slight hesitation, her body sliding into place, and her ass presses directly against me.
The thin material of our swimwear might as well be nonexistent for all the buffer it provides against the sensation of her body against mine.
I draw a sharp breath, my hands hovering uncertainly at my sides as I try to figure out how to handle this situation without making things even more complicated between us.
The scent of her skin—salt water mixed with something sweetly feminine—fills my senses, and I know with absolute certainty that this is going to be the longest jet ski ride of my life.
"Hey," I say, my voice low enough that it won't carry across the water. "I'm sorry about last night."
Skye turns her head slightly, just enough that I can see her profile against the sparkling water beyond.
The sun catches the gold flecks in her green eyes, making them shimmer like the ocean surface.
A slight breeze ruffles the wispy strands of light brown hair that have escaped her messy bun, dancing against her neck.
"Let's just forget about it," she says with a finality that should close the matter. The tension in her shoulders betrays her casual tone.
I give her a look that I hope conveys how genuinely sorry I am—not just empty words to smooth things over. Her shoulders tense slightly under my gaze, the delicate bones shifting beneath her sun-kissed skin.
"I'm serious," she insists, turning further to face me now. "It's fine, and I want to just put it behind us so we can enjoy the summer." Her freckles stand out against her flushed cheeks, a constellation I want to trace with my fingertips.
The words sound rehearsed, like she's been practicing them in her head, deciding exactly how to handle this moment. The careful way she's holding herself, barely breathing, tells me everything her words don't. She's affected by me as much as I am by her.
"I don't think I can do that," I admit, bringing my hands to her hips, pulling her back gently until she's pressed against me fully, until she can feel exactly what she does to me.
Her body fits against mine like it was designed to be there, the curve of her ass nestling perfectly against my hardness.
She gasps, the small sound nearly lost in the breeze but I feel it reverberate through her body into mine. The vibration of that tiny intake of breath travels straight to my core.
"I'm sorry about last night for being drunk when I told you I wanted you," I whisper against her skin, my lips barely grazing the shell of her ear, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her, "but I'm not sorry for telling you."
The water laps gently against the jet ski, rocking us slightly, creating a rhythm that's almost hypnotic. Neither of us has even thought about starting the engine. Harper is probably already at the caves wondering where we are, but in this moment, time seems suspended.
"This is not a good idea," she whispers, but she doesn't move away from me. If anything, she settles more firmly against my hardness, her body betraying her words as she melts against me.
"I know," I say, my hands still on her hips, thumbs brushing small circles against her bare skin where her bikini bottom meets soft flesh. "But I can't stay away from you."
The confession hangs between us, honest and dangerous. She's silent for so long I think maybe she's not going to respond at all. I can feel her heart racing, or maybe it's mine.
Finally, she asks, "So what exactly do you want?" Her voice catches slightly on the last word.
Her question is direct, brave in a way I wouldn't have expected. No games, no pretending. It makes me want her even more, this flash of courage in someone so young.
"I want your virginity," I tell her plainly, the words heavy with promise. "I'll still pay the 1.2 mil for it, but I want it my way." My voice drops lower, rougher with desire.
She stiffens slightly, but doesn't pull away. The muscles in her thighs tense against mine. "What is your way, exactly?" she asks, her voice surprisingly steady despite the slight tremor I can feel running through her body.
I trail my fingers over her thighs, feather-light touches that leave goosebumps in their wake. Her skin is still damp from the ocean, smooth under my calloused hands, a delicious contrast that makes me want to explore every inch of her.