Fighting for Forever (Fighting, #6)

“Thanks, bro.” He wipes his forehead.

“Why don’t you take a dip, cool off a bit.” I grab the football to deposit it with our stuff.

“I think I will.”

“You mind watching the little kids for a bit so I can take your sister out on the long board?”

He watches me for a few seconds then nods. “Sure thing, man. Just give me a sec to get wet.”

He takes off to the water, and I grab the long board, hoisting it up under my arm, and head for Trix. Little-girl voices go back and forth about building a tower high enough so that the prince has to work to get his princess, and the younger boys are deep in the process of moat construction.

I stand over Trix, blocking the sun, and she regards me from behind long strands of her wind-whipped hair. “You up for a surf lesson?”

She shakes gloppy sand off her fingers and stands up, raking her sunglasses up on her head. Her violet eyes flash with excitement, and even without a hint of makeup, they stand out against her sun-kissed skin. “Right now?”

“Sure. Why not?” My fingers itch to push her hair behind her ear.

She stares out at the waves just as Isaac comes in shaking his head to spray the little kids with water. They all squeal.

“Go for it, Bea. I’ve got the kids.” Isaac ruffles Zoe’s hair. “What’re we building here, Zee?”

Josiah jumps up, his face covered in sand. “We’ve got a moat with an alligator-great-white-shark hybrid that feeds on the princes that fail to rescue the princess!”

“Of course you do.” Isaac grins then drops to his knees to help out.

“Let me put my sunglasses away.” Trix moves to our stuff.

“Oh, wait.” I set down the long board and pull my sleeveless shirt off over my head. “Can you drop this up with your sunglasses?” I toss my shirt to her, but it hits her flat belly then drops to the sand.

She eyeballs my chest, her lips parted as her gaze slides down my abdomen to settle below my belly button. My dick jumps behind my board shorts at her open appreciation.

“Trix.” It’s not a command, more like a plea. As if this isn’t hard enough without her eyeballs molesting me, I groan, and her gaze slides to my hip where a few fingers of my tattoo peek out from the waistband of my shorts. Damn, if looks could stroke . . . I clear my throat.

Her eyelids flutter, and then a bright blush paints her cheeks. “Uh.” She blinks. “Okay, right. I’ll, um, be right . . .” She doesn’t attempt to finish her sentence, but turns on her heel, throws our stuff on the sheet, then runs back to me.

Runs.

Back.

I rip my eyes from her bouncing body and pick up the long board to create a barrier between the castle builders and the swelling in my shorts. She comes alongside me and grabs my free hand.

“You ready?” I find a mellow break and pull her down the beach to the spot that will be easier for paddling out.

“I’m a little nervous, but ready. Yeah.”

We head out into a few feet of water.

She squeaks. “Holy crap, it’s cold.”

I try and fail to keep my eyes off the goose bumps that break out across her chest and her firm nipples that tighten behind the tiny triangles of her top. “Should’ve brought her a wetsuit,” I mumble.

“What?” Her bright eyes catch mine.

“Nothing.” I drop the long board onto the glassy surface. “Alright, Bea.” I wink. “Climb on.”

It’s going to take a damn miracle to keep my hands to myself.





Twenty-two





Trix

Mason grips the long yellow foam board to keep it steady as I put one knee up to climb on.

“Straddle it first then lie flat on your belly.” His voice is gravelly, and the sound shoots straight between my legs.

I bite my lip and do as he instructs, straddling the wide board before bracing my weight with my arms and lying flat on my belly with my legs out of the water.

“Good.” He walks us out into the waves, pushing the board up and over the smaller waves. His crystal-blue eyes are scanning, as if every surge and splash of the surf is giving away some secret information that only he understands. “Open your legs.”

I jerk so hard I practically fall off the board. “Wh-what?”

He flashes a confident smile and runs his big hand up the back of my thigh, prying it open. “Trust me.”

Propped up on my elbows, I drop my forehead and allow him to manipulate my legs. Having to watch him on the beach, all that messy blond hair and muscles that caught the attention of every woman within eyeshot, it was impossible to not get turned on. And now, with his shirt off and his board shorts hanging low on his hips to expose the “V” of his lower abdomen, it’s enough to have me drooling and ravenous. I need him to touch me, as if I’m sinking and his touch will keep me afloat.

The tail end of the board dips, and the heat of his body hits the insides of my thighs. I squirm to look behind me, but a firm hand at my hip stills me.

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