It takes me a few minutes to come up with some kind of coverup that isn’t see-through, another one of Aspen’s doings since she sent me the clothing part of this vacation. I pull out a flouncy skirt and a tank, throw them on, and head towards the living area.
Hopefully, Chance is ready because I’m dying to get to the beach. I fling the door open and stop in my tracks. “Holy shit.” The words leave my mouth before I can filter them. Chance is standing in a pair of board shorts hanging low on his hips, showing off his muscular build, a shirt in his hand, but it’s the way he licks his lips while standing there that has me ready to jump into the ocean to cool off.
“Glad you approve. Ready?” he says without a care.
“Wait a second.” I do the time out sign. I’m going to need just a minute to get my words flowing. My eyes see the humor Chance is playing up.
“Baby, you wanna stand here and look all day or go to the beach?” he says. I’ve barely got my shit together. The wise ass, feisty woman I am has retreated with his looks alone. I am toast. There’s no way I can hold a grudge over something that happened so many months ago. I mean, sure, things may pop up here and there. I’m not one to be able to hide my insecurities that well. And, let’s face it, those will appear when a woman is least expecting that.
“Well, if you’re going shirtless, then so am I.” I cross my arms, ready to pull my shirt off when Chance says, “Nope, not fucking happening. I’m putting mine on.”
I watch as he does just that, muscles ripping, washboard abs flexing along the way, and my mouth waters as thoughts of running my tongue along every square inch of him play through my mind. I shake myself out of my Chance-induced coma when his head pops through his shirt. That was a close call. All I’d need is to have him catch me wipe the drool off my chin, or better yet, see me drooling. God, the girls would roll with laughter. Bridger probably would too. Not that he’s perfect, there was no way in hell I was telling him what happened between Chance and me. Which was no easy task with me being in a sour mood, especially when we had a family dinner that same night. I didn’t though. I put on a bright smile and faked having a great time. Then went home, drank a bottle of wine, and ate the whole container of my secret stash of chocolate thin mint patties. It took me a week of eating right not to feel so damn bloated after that stellar binge eating and drinking night. I vowed to put it behind me, including Chance, which was when the grudge holding commenced. My family teased me growing up that I was like a dog with a bone and never gave up. I guess they weren’t wrong.
Once Chance is situated, I pick up my bag that was dropped on the ground during our epic make-out session—okay, okay, it was more than that, but if I continue thinking about how Chance rocked my world, I’ll literally have to change my bathing suit. Our hands meet, his thumb stroking where ours are connected. He doesn’t even know it, but he’s calming my racing heart, and that’s something I need more than I thought.
“We’re going to be alright, Peyton. I promise you that. We’ll go slow, and any hurdles that are thrown our way, we’ll navigate them, together. Okay?” We’ve somehow managed to make it to the elevator while he’s saying this as my own mind blanked out, only focusing on our hands.
“Thank you.” Chance kisses my forehead. The elevator dings, and we go inside, a smile taking over my face. I’m dying to feel the sun beam on my face, to soak in the rays, to smell the salt in the air, and to hear the waves crash along the shore.
“Peyton, I’ll do whatever I can to keep you smiling. You don’t have to thank me for that, baby.” We drop the conversation after that. Nothing more needs to be said. His presence beside me speaks volumes, so today, I’m going to let go and live in the moment.
Five
Chance
It took a shit ton of grit not to jack off when I left Peyton in the living room, but like I told her, the next time either one of us comes, it’ll be together. So, I thought about sports, baseball, football, hell, even soccer. When that didn’t work, my mind conjured up the numbers my brother is going to need for this beach bungalow project he’s having me work on. That was enough to subside it, although not much, especially when I walked into the living room and saw Peyton’s eyes on me. I had to take a few deep breaths myself instead of doing what I really wanted to do, which was march her sassy ass into my bedroom and fuck her six ways to Sunday. Not that it’s going to get much easier once we’re at the beach and she divests herself of her clothing. There’s nothing that will be able to hide my hard cock. The water will definitely be my best friend, but that puts another thought in my head. An image of Peyton dripping wet in her bikini. I’m fucked, literally and figuratively.