Dirty Obsession (Dirty 1)

She’s a much better actor than I am. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest at the touch of her soft skin. I have to be good today. I’m used to practicing self-control. But Sloane makes that incredibly hard to do.

“Pull over,” I say calmly.

Sloane takes a deep breath. I watch her chest rise and fall and wish she weren’t wearing the T-shirt covering the bikini underneath. Better yet, I wish she were wearing nothing.

Sloane pulls the car over onto the side of the road.

“Now, put the car in park.”

She does without hesitation.

“Turn the car off.”

She slowly reaches up, and I reluctantly move my hand away from hers as she turns the car off.

“Take a deep breath, and then get out of the car.”

I watch h

er chest rise and fall again, and then she gets out of the car. I do the same and pull her surfboard off the top of the car. I begin carrying it to the beach.

“What are we doing? You don’t have your surfboard or swim trunks, and this is one of the worst places for surf on the island. There isn’t even anyone here.”

I shake my head from side to side. “No questions. You have to trust me. This is what you need.”

She frowns, but I keep walking toward the edge of the water with her surfboard in tow, not giving her another choice.

She walks behind me.

When I get to the water, I stop and wait for her to catch up. I hand her back her surfboard.

“Now, surf, and don’t think. About me or Wes or your grandmother. Or anything else. Just surf. Go through the motions.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but I put a finger up to her lips to stop her. Her lips are as soft as I imagined. She bites her lip, and I pull my hand away.

“Don’t say anything. Now, go.” I point toward the ocean.

She grins. “I was only going to say, can I take my T-shirt and shorts off first?”

I want to say no because it doesn’t matter. She’s thinking too much, and she needs to just get in the water. But I’m desperate to see her in nothing but her bikini. I can just imagine her walking back toward me after surfing, beads of water dripping down her breasts. I need to see her body like that. Although a white T-shirt drenched in water might be equally as awesome.

“It was implied,” I say.

“Sure it was.”

She shimmies out of her shorts first, but her T-shirt is long enough that it covers her ass, revealing nothing new to me. But then she removes her shirt, revealing the toned body that she was hiding beneath her T-shirt.

Damn. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting this.

She’s toned and fit beneath her tiny black bikini. I can see the muscles rippling in her stomach, arms, and legs. But she also has the perfect amount of curves outlining her muscles. Her breasts have me aching to touch them. Her hips are curvy, making me want to grab her and have her right here in the sand. Even though I’ve done that before and as much as I like the beach and ocean, fucking a woman on it is much worse than the fantasy.

She doesn’t smile as she begins walking into the ocean. Instead, she seems determined. She walks in a ways before she gets on the board and starts paddling out. The waves are pretty tame here, and there isn’t anyone out here that she has to pay attention to. No, this is the perfect spot for her to clear her head and get used to the pain she is feeling.

I just wish I had my own board, so I could join her.

It doesn’t take her long to paddle out until I can barely make out the curves in her body from where I stand.

She takes her time in choosing a wave. And then she is up on her board, surfing with obvious experience. She doesn’t do anything fancy. But the way she moves over the ocean is beautiful. She glides easily, like she has been doing it her whole life. I could watch her for hours.