Summer's Kiss (The Boys of Ocean Beach 1)

“Yeah, it does.”

“So I have the day off,” he tells me and catches my hand in his.

“Oh, really? Strange, I have the day off, too,” I laugh.

“I thought you might. Want to spend it with me?”

He’s charming and handsome and my hand feels perfect in his. France? Who needs France? I squeeze his hand and say, “Yep.”

* * *

“Remind me next time to find out what we’re doing before I agree.” I’m knee-deep in the ocean trying not to have a panic attack. Both of my feet are on top of Whit’s and his arms are wrapped around my waist.

“Not that I mind this position, but really, I think we should try going further out.” He attempts to move his feet forward but I’m clinging to him so tightly it makes it difficult.

“Can’t we just go back on the beach? Because really, sharks can’t get you on the beach. Or crabs or sting rays or jellyfish.”

“Babe, none of those things are going to get you.”

Babe? If anyone else had called me that back home I would’ve punched them in the junk. Even Mason. But hearing the pet name come across Whit’s lips sends a flare of warmth straight to my belly.

I don’t let him know that. I already feel myself sinking in so deep with these guys. Every little thing they do draws me in. Instead, I crane my neck to give him my best skeptical look. It isn’t hard since I am entirely skeptical.

“You don’t know that. You don’t. You may have spent your whole life in the ocean and today, today! Could be the day a shark decides to eat you,” I explain. “And then me.”

At the campground, Whit instructed me to put on my bathing suit and get ready for some ocean fun. I was game, ready for an adventure, even after he drove the Jeep off the dirt road at the end of the island and past the signs that said: “No Entry.” He helped me out of the vehicle and carried a backpack filled with lunch over the dunes and down to the completely deserted edge of the island. It wasn’t long before he started talking me into getting in the water.

Thirty minutes passed and I’m only in up to my knees.

A wave comes at us, pushing cold water over my exposed stomach, I yelp and attempt to wiggle out of his grasp but he holds tight.

“It’s just a wave,” he says, hand lingering on my back. I know he’s right. It is just a wave. A wave filled with horrible sea monsters.

“Okay I think I can—,” the smile slides off his face and his eyes are over my shoulder, not on me. I turn to look and come face-to-face with a wave as tall as I am.

“Summer,” I hear him say just before the wall of water crashes over my head. At first, his hands are all over me, but the force of the wave pushes us both backwards and he loses contact. Water fills my mouth and nose and my heart jackhammers in my chest. I force myself to my feet, despite my fears of crabs and sand sharks. I choke and spit out salty water, shouting, “Whit!” I see him but another wave is at his back so I scramble out of the knee-deep water to get back to safety. His hands attempt to grab onto my hips as he tries to slow me down.

“Hold up,” he says, chasing after me, but I’ve made it to the beach. Once I’ve got solid ground beneath me, I fall to my knees on the hard-packed sand. I spit the salty water out of my mouth and adjust my bathing suit top from where the waves pushed it around.

“No way,” I tell him when he reaches me and sits down. He’s completely unfazed by the events that just happened. I look him in the eye. “I’m not going back out there.”

“Okay,” he says, brushing my wet hair over my shoulder. “I won’t make you, but tell me, why is the ocean so scary for you?”

“The water’s dark and I can’t see the bottom. Anything can be down there. The fish freak me out and seaweed wraps around my feet and just promise you’ll never make me do that again.”

“I won’t,” he says, pulling me into a hug. “Not ‘til you’re ready.”

“You may be waiting awhile.”

“I’m pretty patient,” he says in my ear and just like that, my heart is no longer racing due to the excitement in the water but because of the proximity of this man.

He dips his head and there’s a slight moment of hesitation, the one right before a guy makes his move. I lift my chin and he kisses me, once soft and then again. I kiss him back and he tugs me off the sand and onto his lap, until I’m straddling his w

aist. Adrenaline from the incident rushes through me and I feel a surge of energy. Boldness. No one is around, and I feel hungry for the way his lips taste and the way his hands wander over my exposed back and down the sides of my breasts. He’s hard beneath me and my mind and body war in conflict. Too fast or just right?

Unaware of my mental battle, Whit eases me over until I’m the one on my back, lying against the gritty sand. He lies next to me and I reach my hand out and run it along his chin, brush the long strands of hair out of his face. He leans over and licks my lip, tugging it gently with his teeth. He kisses like the ocean itself, wild but dangerous. Taunting me with every touch.

We’re both breathing heavily when we part and I can’t help but notice the darkness lingering in his eyes. “I’m sorry if I upset you yesterday. With my comment about school.”