Carly holds out both arms and twirls around in a little circle, pulling my attention away from the vastness above us and back to her. Her face is gentle with a smile, and the wind tousles her hair.
She’s beautiful. Agonizingly so. And I can’t seem to find the strength to pull my eyes away from her.
In this moment, it feels like nothing is a match for her.
Not the ocean. Not the night’s sky. Not a single fucking thing on the planet, in the universe, could be more stunning than she is right now.
“You know what we need to do?” she asks, stopping in her tracks. She drops the flip-flops in her hand to the sand and proceeds to unbutton her jeans.
“W-what are you doing?”
“We need to swim, Ryan.”
“It’s night,” I retort on a shocked laugh, but my eyes are fucking fixated on her fingers as they deftly unzip her pants. “I don’t think that’s a good or safe—”
“Have you ever gone swimming at night?”
I shake my head. “Uh…no. I can’t say I have. Especially not in the ocean.”
“Me either.” Her blue eyes turn wide and persistent. “Which means it would be a travesty if we let this moment pass,” she says, and just like that, her jeans slip down her toned thighs and don’t stop their descent until they hit the ground.
Her flowy shirt is next, and before I know it, right there in front of me, stands Carly in just her lacy white underwear and bright-pink bra.
Fuck me.
She’s a goddess, every goddamn inch of her, and I’m at a loss for what to do. I want to reach out and touch her. I want to yank her toward me, slide my hands into her hair and kiss the fucking daylights out of her.
I want to do a lot of things, and none of them is the least bit appropriate for a public beach.
But Carly doesn’t wait another minute.
“C’mon!” she exclaims and turns for the water. Her toes push into the sand, and she darts off on a run.
“Carly! What are you doing? This is fucking crazy!” I shout, but she doesn’t listen.
Instead, she does the exact opposite and runs straight into the water.
“Ah!” she squeals on a high-pitched giggle once she’s waist-high. “It’s a little bit cold, but it’s almost as exhilarating as flying down a double black diamond on skis!” she shouts over her shoulder, glancing back at me. “Do it, Ryan! Get in the water!”
Christ, this woman. She’s an enigma.
I never know what to expect from her. I normally hate things I can’t contain—things I can’t plan for, but the more Carly Page shakes up my world, the more I’m drawn to her.
I watch from the sand as she dives beneath a wave, and inklings of panic start to tighten my chest. Besides the moonlight, it’s dark as shit. And she’s in the fucking ocean. By herself.
When five seconds pass and I don’t see her head pop back up at the surface, I don’t think anymore. I just act. My shoes dropped to the sand, I sprint into the ocean and hop in—fucking suit and all.
Waves crash against my legs, soaking my pants, and by the time I’m waist-high in the water, every square inch of my clothes is drenched.
And it isn’t until that very moment that Carly’s head breaks the surface.
Thank fuck.
She pushes her wet hair out of her face, and when she opens her eyes, her gaze immediately locks with mine. “Holy hell, Ryan! I can’t believe you actually got in!”
I should be so pissed at her. I really should.
But for some insane reason, all I can do is laugh. “Yeah. I did.”
Carly takes in my current state, and her nose scrunches up. “You…uh…you got in with all of your clothes on?”
I shrug. “I guess you could say I got a little worried.”
“Worried?” she asks, tilting her head to the side as she closes the distance between us.
“Yeah.” I nod. Sigh. Laugh. Run a hand through my hair. “It’s fucking night, Carly. And you went into the ocean by yourself. When you went underwater and didn’t come back up right away, I panicked.”
“Panicked? About me?” she asks, and I’m taken aback by her question.
“Who else would I be worried about? I don’t see any other crazy people going for nighttime swims,” I add, and when a wave jostles her body, I reach out to steady her. “Most people recognize rules and regulations, and this beach’s guidelines prohibit swimming when there isn’t a lifeguard on duty.”
She bursts into laughter.
“What?” I question, a tiny, uninvited smirk curving my lips at the sound of her laughter. “Why is that so funny?”
“Because that’s such a Ryan thing to say,” she teases, and something in my chest expands at the familiar way she says my name and words I’ve heard from my friends in New York more than a hundred times. It’s true; I’m the unofficial “dad” in almost every situation, but the people who love me understand—in fact, it’s something they love about me. And the way Carly’s said it just now makes me feel like she does too.