She smirked. “Is that right?”
His eyes danced down her body, paying particularly close attention to her hard nipples. “Shit yeah,” he breathed, thankful that the water was cold enough to keep his cock at bay.
“Well,” she purred. “Come closer and tell me more.”
Max should have listened to his gut. He should have listened to the sensible part of his brain and not the part of his brain that resided in his shorts, because as soon as he moved closer she was on him, dunking him headfirst into the lake, over and over again, winding her lithe body around his until he was begging for mercy. She was like a slippery eel. Max simply couldn’t get a hold on her, but Jesus, having her body so close, so near nakedness was fucking stupendous. Her thighs gripped him tightly while his cheek pressed into her tit.
Awesome.
She finally let go, pushing away with a laugh that was beautiful. “I have a brother, Maxie,” she taunted while swimming backward. “Don’t forget. I learned from the best. I dunk boys like you for breakfast.”
And with that she took off toward the float, where Josh and Buck helped her climb aboard, leaving Max tongue-tied and bursting with pride.
It was late afternoon when everyone left the float for the shade of the house. With the sun still hot as hell and drinks being thrown back like nobody’s business, a siesta was in serious order. With an arm behind his head and a foot on the ground to keep the hammock, tied between two trees, swinging gently, Max watched Grace approach with a soft, tipsy smile across her sun-kissed face. She was still wearing his godforsaken T-shirt, but that was okay. She’d been nothing but an absolute pleasure to be around all day, opening up to him and everyone else, shaking off her natural timidity and quiet.
He smiled when she stopped at his side. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she answered. “You okay?”
He nodded. “You?”
She lifted her half-empty bottle of water. “Trying to dilute. I may be a little buzzed.”
“I think you just might be.” He patted the hammock. “Wanna join me?”
She frowned. “There’s room?”
Max shifted, leaving a small space for her. “There is now.”
Grace placed her water on the ground and, with zero elegance, sat down heavily on the hammock’s edge, pushing it sideways sharply and causing her to fall back onto Max.
“Oh shit!” he exclaimed.
A loud, dirty laugh burst from her as Max, with flailing arms and legs, attempted to steady the damn thing and keep them both on top of it. He managed, just, despite Grace not helping one bit.
With them both lying back, Grace still wheezing with laughter, Max shook his head.
“You’re nuts,” he commented with a wry smile.
“I feel nuts,” she replied, placing a hand on her chest in an effort to calm herself. “I feel great.” She looked over at him, their noses mere inches apart. “I love it here. I’ve had such a good time.”
“I’m glad.” Max’s gaze did a slow circuit of her face. “You’ve caught the sun.”
“You, too.” She pressed her index finger to his nose. “You have freckles.”
“I do not!”
Grace giggled again. “Don’t worry, they’re adorable.”
Max rubbed his hands down his face in an attempt to rid himself of said adorableness. “Whatever.”
She grinned and looked back at the sky, her hand grazing his. “It’s been nice seeing you so happy.”
He looked at her, surprised.
She closed her eyes. “Your smile is far too nice not to show off.”
Without thought, Max pushed his arm under her head and pulled her close. The scent of sun-heated skin, sun screen, and wine filled his senses. “You’re flirty when you drink, huh?”
Seemingly unfazed by his holding her, she nodded. “Apparently.” She opened one eye. “Does that bother you?”
Max shook his head. “It’s adorable.”
She laughed and moved her hand so that it rested on his bare stomach. His muscles immediately clenched. He cleared his throat. “You kept my T-shirt on.”
Grace hummed in reply. “You have a tattoo.”
He sighed. “I do.”
Grace’s eyes opened slowly, their prior haziness fading to something more sensitive. “Wanna talk about it?”
Did he want to talk about it? Not really. But Max knew there would come a time when he would have to open up, to tell people about his past and what he’d been through. Who better to start with than Grace, with her innocent questions and open face. Besides, she’d shared such a dark and painful part of herself when she told him about Rick.
“Christopher was my son,” he said quietly, the words scratching his throat like fractured pieces of his heart slipping up from his chest.
Grace became very still. The only movement the gentle sway of the hammock. “Was.”
Max turned his head, looking straight at her. “He died.”