"Show me your best paddle."
"I was on the swim team for four years."
"You swim recently?"
"At the gym, twice a week." Her feet sink into the sand as she steps off the board. "I'm getting in the water."
I point to the wetsuit I rented for her, the one sitting on the sand. "Yours if you want it."
She eyes it greedily. "Are you wearing one?"
It's a challenge. I won't if you don't.
It's a stupid challenge—why freeze when you don't have to-but then I've never been particularly wise about knowing when to back down.
"I can." I nod to my backpack.
"What are you wearing under that?" She motions to my jeans.
I laugh. "Eager beaver."
"Don't call me beaver."
"If I can call you sunshine."
"Can I stop you?"
"No."
"Sure. Call me sunshine. But only because I know getting my permission will ruin the whole thing for you."
"That's where you're wrong, sunshine."
She makes a show of rolling her eyes, but it does nothing to hide her smile. She may have hated the pet name once. Hell, she probably hated it Monday. But all day, she's smiled every time she heard it.
It's growing on her.
And I could be—
Uh-uh. Not going there.
"You know what? I don't care." She pulls her tank top over her head and drops it next to her bag. "I'm getting in the water." Her hands go to her hips. She unzips her jeans and pushes them to her ankles.
She's wearing a tight swimsuit. A lap swimsuit.
Like she wore every fucking day on swim team.
Fuck, that brings me back.
Sends my thoughts straight to the gutter. I spent a lot of nights in high school thinking about stripping her out of that thing.
And now she's standing on the sand, staring up at me with that fire in her eyes, daring me to strip and chase her.
It would be heaven if not for one ugly little fact: I can't have her.
She picks up the board and hugs it to her side. "You're still dressed."
"You want a show, sunshine?"
She sticks her tongue out.
"You flatter me." I roll my hips as I bring my hands to the bottom of my t-shirt. Slowly, I peel it over my head. Toss it next to her pile of clothes.
She raises a brow really?
Hell yes. I do my best hip thrust. Make a show of unzipping my jeans and sliding them off my hips.
She laughs as I turn, bend over, shimmy the jeans down my legs.
"Oh God. You're…" Her breath catches. "You're not wearing that."
"But I am." I turn to her. Snap the waist of my Speedo. "Aren't you used to seeing me in this?"
"I've blocked it from my mind."
Bullshit. She's held onto it tightly. Thought of me the way I thought of her. But there's no sense in pushing her.
It's only going to make me want her more.
And I don't need the blue balls.
"Are you coming or what?" She turns toward the ocean. Watches tiny waves crest, foam, roll into the sand.
I follow her across the sand.
Even with the board, she's fast.
She squeals as her toes hit the water. "Fuck. That's cold."
"Not too late for a wet suit."
She shakes her head no way as she runs into the water. She shrieks as a wave hits her waist. "God. I… Fuck it." She sets the board on the water. Grabs the leash. Dives in headfirst.
When in Rome…
I do the same.
Fuck. That's freezing. But tolerable.
When I surface, she's already on the board, paddling into the surf.
She presses herself up to go over a cresting wave.
Fuck, is this a nice view. Every inch of her is on display. Her strong legs. Her tight ass. The folds of her cunt.
My cock stirs. I tell it to calm down, but that's a fruitless endeavor. My head is already filling with thoughts of bringing her home and stripping her out of that wet swimsuit.
"You coming?" She turns her head to look back to me.
At this rate, yeah. I dive under the water. Think of work and surfing technique and my brother erasing my existence from his mind if I do fuck Chloe.
None of that helps. But the cold water is enough to temper the heat building inside me.
Seeing her like this is not good for our professional relationship.
And even though I'd never, in a million years, admit it to her, teaching Chloe how to do ink matters to me.
I'm not gonna fuck it up.
She paddles past the break point. Pushes herself up and slings her legs over the surfboard.
"You look like a regular," I say.
"How many times do I have to say, 'I know how to surf' before you get it?"
"You keeping track?"
"No. I think I'll just round up to infinity."
"Good call."
She stares out at the white sky. There's a streak of blue to our right. Everywhere else, puffy, grey clouds cover the sun.
"How'd you get from college to Inked Hearts?"
"A lot of begging. I think Ryan would be happy to never hear my voice again."
I shake my head. "He likes you."
"I think so." Her gaze shifts to the water. "But it's hard to tell with him."
"He probably says the same about you."
"Probably."
"You have better credentials than any of us."
"But no experience." She looks up at the sky. "I'm grateful for the opportunity to work with Ryan, Walker, and Brendon. You, on the other hand—"
"You bow down at my greatness."
"Roll my eyes at your stupidity."
"To-may-to, to-mah-to."
Her eyes catch mine as she turns back. Watches a wave crest. "You were better than I was. In high school. You were the better artist."
"We were neck and neck."
"Mrs. White chose you every time."
"She didn't like you."
"She really didn't."
"What did you do to her?"
"Nothing." She spins on her board. Pulls her knees into her chest then folds her legs over each other. "I guess I'm just…"
"Prickly?"
She nods without offense. "Yeah."
"Isn't that what you're going for?"
"No… Maybe…" Her eyes find mine. "It doesn't matter. I have a good thing going now."
"Guys asking you to whip them?"
"Do I seem like a dominatrix?"
"Kinda."
"Are you into that?"
"I'll try anything once."
"You haven't?"
"Never."
Surprise spreads over her expression. "Bullshit." She pulls her arms over her chest. Rubs her triceps to stay warm. "As many women as you've been with. One of them must have tried."
"Never." The cold water nips at my toes. But everywhere else, I'm warm. This conversation is not a good idea. It's already doing shit to me.
"That shocks me."
I move closer. Until my hands are on her surfboard. And my head is six inches from her toes. "I live to shock you."
She looks down at me. "Anything else you haven't tried?
"A long list."
"Bullshit."
"Never taken it up the ass."
A laugh bursts from her lips. Her eyes light up. Her hand goes to her mouth. "Oh my God." She hugs her stomach. "That's the first place you go?"
"First thing that came to mind."
"Why would you even—"
"Lots of chicks are into it."
Her nose scrunches with distaste. "They are not."
I nod are too. All right. It might not be lots of women. But I have had the request before.
"What else?"
"Never been with a guy."
"What about a threesome?"
"With a guy and a girl? Yeah."
"You like it?"
"Depends. It's always been with couples. It's weird, being a guest star in their fantasy."
"Weird good or weird bad?"
"Both. It feels pretty bad ass. But it's impersonal. Like I'm a prop."
"You've never with a friend and a random girl?"
"Sunshine, I hate to burst your bubble, but I don't have those kinds of friends."
"Shit. I was kinda hoping you and Ryan." She winks. "Don't tell Leighton."
"I won't. You shouldn't either. She'll kill you."
"She seems tough."
"She is."
Her painted black fingernails tap the fiberglass. "What else have you never done?"
"I thought you were done with our game?" I push myself onto the board, turn, sit next to her.
"These waves are shitty."
They are. And I'd rather talk to her any day. Still. I brought her here for a reason. I need her feeling the thrill of catching a wave. I need that excitement in her eyes. That feeling that she can do anything.
Fuck, I thought this had something to do with being her teacher.
Maybe it does.