29. Scarlett
Scarlett
Who does this man think he is? Seriously?
Where does he get off getting me off in a dressing room while I’m wearing a bikini that I never wanted to wear?
A bikini I would never choose for myself because it is, in fact, a bikini!
A bikini that actually looks really, really freaking good on me?
For real. Who does Morgan Bale think he is?
As I think back on whatever the hell happened at that shop, I am fuming. But I can’t deny how hot it was. I also can’t deny that it does in fact look good on me, which is wild to me. It makes me think of my long-lost bucket list.
If I knew where it was, I’d be crossing something off that I never actually thought I’d cross off.
It was a hope. An ambition written out of self-love that I internally struggled with for over half my life.
And then, in walks Morgan Freaking Bale, all hot-headed and bothered over my insecurity as if it’s a reflection of him, making me hot and bothered but in a different way.
Then, he proceeds to finger-fuck me into submission, not just sexually but into agreeing to buy the suit.
Again. Who does this man think he is?!
An impressive man, that’s who, I tell myself as we drive back to the resort. A man I never saw myself even liking, and yet I might just be falling for him. Truly falling. What even is my life right now?
I’m deep-diving into my own brain when I realize that we are headed away from the shopping strip but not in the direction of the hotel. In fact, we are heading further into the local village in the direction of the beach.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Swimming,” he says. “Like the fans requisition.”
I blink. “Okay…but isn’t the hotel behind us?” I ask.
“It is.” He nods, and I look up at Seb, who is minding his own business but clearly in on whatever shenanigans are in place.
“So…” I trail off.
“We aren’t going swimming at the hotel,” he states. “Donovan messaged me that they didn’t get the pH levels right when they cleaned it last night, and it’s going to be closed for the rest of the day. So, in the meantime, I’ve made other plans.”
“The beach?” I ask, and Morgan just smirks.
“Something like that.”
It isn’t until we have driven for about an hour and Seb parks the car that I have any idea where we are going.
Actually, after he parks, Morgan stays quiet, though there is a smirk playing on his lips, as we trek for about 15 minutes before I truly see the destination. And a dream destination it is.
“Where are we?” I ask in awe as I overlook the small, hidden cove. It’s a pool of water with only a handful of locals swimming and wading. There’s even a waterfall people are jumping from.
“Sol de Mayo,” he answers as I continue to sweep my eyes over it. Meanwhile, my heart feels like it’s filling up to the brim with sunshine.
“How did you find it?” I ask. Because honestly, this is something I would find. This entire cove is exactly the kind of place I would go instead of a commercial beach or a crowded resort pool. This is me.
“I researched,” he says.
“Because you knew I wasn’t in love with the idea of wearing a swimsuit at a pool where everyone wants to take my picture?” I ask, and I am slightly surprised when Morgan pulls me against him and wraps his arms around me.
“Because I knew you’d rather go off the beaten path. You’d rather go where the locals are. In their culture. Away from everything and yet close to what matters,” he says, and I pull my eyes away from the view for a moment to look up at him.
I don’t know when the switch happened. But somewhere along the way, another side of Morgan has emerged from deep inside him. A part of him that I get the feeling has been dormant for a very long time. It’s subtle, soft, and yet overwhelming in this moment.
So I kiss him.
It’s the first time a kiss has been initiated by me and yet, I can’t help it.
Somehow this man is managing to fulfill my bucket list without even knowing it exists.
And as a believer in fate and stars aligning and everything else cosmic, I can’t help but believe there is a reason that we are where we are.
Here. In this place. In this moment. Together.
After that, he sheds down to his boxer briefs, something I never imagined him doing before.
And I tug my clothes off too, still sporting the red bikini underneath.
And you know what? I honestly love it. It’s sexy and flashy and everything I ever wanted a bathing suit to be.
A bikini to be. Who would have thought? I don’t hate it.
“Oh my god,” Morgan says from behind me as he reluctantly follows me into the water.
“What’s the problem?” I ask and I venture in up to my chest. Although I’m smiling because I know what the problem is.
“Oh nothing. It’s just a little…” he trails off on the word he doesn’t want to admit.
“Cold?” I ask.
“Frigid,” he says, and I laugh.
“That sounds a bit dramatic,” I tell him.
“I’m a Florida native,” he argues, still struggling to go past his knees.
“I’m aware,” I tell him, splashing around a little. “So am I.”
“The beaches in Cabo are warm,” he states the obvious. “But the coves are…another story.”
“So are you going to whine about it, or are you going to come in?” I ask, and his eyes dart to mine.
I return it with a snarky, flirty smile.
Because while, yes, it is colder than the beach water and certainly colder than the temperature-controlled pools back at the resort, I am used to doing things like this. Going to places like this.
“Patience,” he tells me, inching forward a couple steps more.
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot the first time you set foot in the ocean was just a couple of days ago,” I tease, and his eyes narrow.
“You know what? Fine,” he says before trudging a few more feet into the water, paying no attention to the cold anymore, though I can see his muscles tensing as he goes. It’s not a bad view by any means. I’m certainly not complaining.
After that, I shriek as he dives into the water next to me, disappearing underneath and popping up again about ten feet further than I am. He tosses his head back, and water flies behind him. Meanwhile, a couple of people cheer around us, probably because the tourists are getting wild.
“You’re crazy,” I laugh as he smiles over at me.
“Too crazy?” he asks, swimming over to me. I giggle as he grabs me and picks me up, holding me in his arms to face him.
“Nah, I like it,” I tell him. “It’s nice to see you without a tie and wing-tipped shoes,”
“And it’s nice to see you strutting that sexy little ass of yours,” he says, his voice gravelly and teasing.
I think it’s safe to say he is flirting.
Not pretending to flirt. There would be no reason for that right now because no one is taking photos of us.
These are locals, people who have no idea who he is or who I am, or any reason to be filming any of it.
In fact, no one is holding a phone at all.
They’re too busy swimming and laughing and talking and enjoying the here and now, including jumping from one of the ledges into the water near the falls.
And speaking of that.
“How crazy are you?” I ask, running a hand through Morgan’s wet, tousled hair.
“What do you mean?” he asks with mischief brimming in his words. “Are you thinking of fucking off into the woods?”
I laugh, but shake my head. “No. I was referring to that…” I say, pointing up at the ledge people are cliff jumping from.
“Oh,” he lets out, clearly surprised that I am even suggesting it. “Yeah, I’m not so sure that’s my thing. Pretty sure this right here is the extent of my adventurous heart.”
“Yeah?” I ask before hopping out of his arms.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“You only live once,” I state before smiling and heading up the path leading up into the rocks.
“You’re not…seriously?” he stutters, but I just keep walking. “Scarlett. Are you for real?”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Well, for one, it’s like fifty feet in the air,” he says.
“More like thirty,” I say, and he just stares at me. I laugh again. “It’s fine. I promise. Everyone is doing it.”
“Aren’t you familiar with the phrase if everyone was jumping off a bridge…?” he asks.
And I choose to ignore him. Because I am doing this.
I’ve always wanted to do this. And like I told him, I’m not afraid.
Not of heights or anything else. I follow the group of people up to one of the lower ledges, which is about a third as high as the waterfall itself.
So maybe about twelve feet. Honestly, I’d jump from the high peak except for the fact that I am pregnant.
It’s obvious that I am new, but the locals are lovely and kind as usual, even giving me some pointers.
“Saltar al medio,” one of them tells me, pointing into a central space down in the water.
“In the middle.” I nod.
“Sí.” He smiles. “Lejos de las rocas.”
Away from the rocks. Got it.
I take a deep breath and look down at Morgan, who is staring up at me from the shore. Then, with a wild cry, I leap, landing in the cool pool below with an exciting swoosh.
When I resurface, I can hear everyone cheering, and I pump a fist in the air, mentally checking another item off my bucket list.
“Muy bien,” one of the women says.
“Si!” I tell her. “Eso fue muy divertido!” That was very fun.
We laugh and joke for a moment, and I glance back at Morgan over my shoulder, who is still standing by the shore. I have to squint against the sun to see him, but I am pretty sure he is smiling.
“Marido?” someone asks me. Husband.
I giggle nervously. “Oh no. He’s my boss,” I blurt out and then realize that’s probably kind of weird, even though it is true.
“Boss.” They nod, not totally buying it.
“Yeah,” I blush, looking at him again. “And my Prometido.”
Fiancé.
And even though it feels weird to call him that…it also doesn’t. It’s a cocktail of swirling feelings, and honestly, I kind of like the static in my chest. Like a sparkler on the Fourth of July.
“He’s handsome,” one of the girls says, and everyone agrees, including me.
“Yes. He really is,” I say before making my way back over to him. I swim until I can touch and then stand, sashaying back in his direction.
“Well?” I ask. “What do you think? Too crazy?”
“I’m not sure it matters what I think as much as what your followers think,” Morgan tells me, and I give him an odd look.
“What are you talking about?” I ask as I approach him, my chest still rising and falling from the adrenaline.
“I mean, I posted this less than three minutes ago and they’re already going nuts over it,” he says and sure enough, Morgan got the whole thing on camera, posting it under BaleResorts.
“Oh my God,” I say, half gasping and half laughing. He also tagged my account in the post, so if I had to guess, my phone is exploding as well.
“They love it,” he says.
“I guess that’s a good thing,” I tell him.
“I think it’s a great thing,” he says. Then he puts his phone away and pulls me into him again. “But you know what’s even better?”
“What’s that?”
“You’re loving it,” he says, and he’s not wrong. I’m loving all of this. The locals. The hidden cove. The adventure. My new bathing suit that I am very much going to wear without shame from here on out. And the kisses he proceeds to shower me with.