Kimani was about to declare herself a feminist, but she had already talked too much. It wasn’t the job of a journalist to voice her own opinions. In fact, doing so could dampen a subject from speaking openly.
She inquired, “So you’re comfortable being paraded around naked?”
Ryan leaned back into the seating. “Sure. Women—not the cranky feminists, of course—don’t mind being an object. It’s sexy. Given the chance to pose naked for Sports Illustrated, we’d all do it. We want men lusting after our hot bods—unless you’re a lesbo or a feminist. Basically they’re one and the same.”
“You’re not bothered if men see us as objects instead of human beings with intellect, charisma, and heart?”
“That stuff’s not real. If you believe all a guy cares about is your brains and personality, don’t be surprised when you find out he’s banging the slutty office intern.” Ryan looked her over. “You’ve got a nice body. Flaunt it. Enjoy what you’ve been born with.”
Ryan had spouted off some great quotes, and Kimani desperately wished she had brought one of her recording pens.
“Hey, your Master’s back,” Ryan said. “If he’s into threesomes, let me know.”
With a wink, Ryan went back to her previous seat.
Kimani watched Ben climb back into the boat, remove the ski vest and shake the water from his hair. He looked good wet.
Get a grip, Kimani.
Switching places, Derek took the driver’s seat and Jake put on his ski vest. Ben headed in her direction.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The water was still cool on his skin, helping to dampen the hard-on that threatened when he saw Kimani naked. He had enjoyed rubbing the sunblock all over her. Her arms, legs and back had felt almost as good as her ass and tits. She looked healthy yet supple. Womanly. Perfect.
“You want a turn?” he asked when he reached her.
“Turn?” she replied.
“Skiing.”
“I don’t know how.”
“I can teach you.”
She thought for a minute, then shook her head. “Maybe another time. When I have a swimsuit on.”
“There’s no one else out on the lake.”
“Still.”
He didn’t push it and instead opened the cooler.
“I was wondering where the drinks were,” Jason said.
Before tossing him a bottle of ale, Ben opened and handed bottles to all the women except for Kimani. Lisa yelped loudly when Jason ran the cold bottle over her belly.
“Let me guess—you want water,” Ben said to Kimani.
She nodded. He grabbed two bottles of water, one for her, one
for himself. She took the bottle, then raised her hand.
“Mind if I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“Do I have to ask permission to talk every time?”