“So you’re saying you’re a fan of animal print?” I’d already unclipped the python one from the ring.
“Just give me the damn thing already? I’m standing here naked, and if a strong breeze comes along, I’m about to give the whole beach a free show.”
I tossed my selection over the top of the curtain while he kicked his wallet out at my feet.
“You’re evil,” he said, followed by a drawn-out groan. “I’m not wearing this.”
“Too late. Already paid for.” I handed the twenty to the vendor, who pocketed it so quickly it was like he was worried we’d change our minds.
“Not doing it.”
“Stop being a baby, Matt. It’s just a swimsuit.”
He huffed over the swimsuit part. “All I need is a shaver and some body oil and I could star in some low-budget porn.”
That made me laugh, which made him laugh.
“Come on. Pick me out something else. A solid or something less . . . snaky.”
“You asked me to pick, and that’s what I picked. ‘No returns, refunds, or exchanges,’” I said, pretending I was reading some sign hanging off the vendor’s money apron.
“The only way I’m putting this thing on is if someone holds me down and forces me into it. No way am I tugging this thing on of my own volition.”
My eyes lifted, and before I knew what I was doing, I was slipping through the curtain. Matt looked as surprised by me as I was by him. I’d forgotten that he was naked. Fully. The same fully naked way he’d been last night when he’d done things to me I’d never had done before.
The same things I was thinking about right now, which was making my body respond in ways that were not family-beach appropriate.
I had to clear my throat before I could say anything. “You were saying?”
It was tight quarters in here, and Matt had no issue making them tighter as he stepped into me. His eyes darkened when he felt my chest brush against his, not missing the way my mouth parted from the way I was breathing.
“The only way I’m wearing that is if you hold me down . . .” His mouth lowered so it was outside my ear. “And force me.”
When his warm breath fogged across my neck, I shivered. He didn’t miss it, as confirmed by the way one corner of his mouth lifted. He’d barely touched me and my body was already responding. We were in some small mobile changing room on a packed beach, and I could feel my body making itself ready for him, like all he had to do was say the word and I’d do his every bidding.
“So unless you have any reason for wanting to keep me in my birthday suit . . .” His gaze dropped to the sand, where the scrap of Lycra was waiting.
“And here I’d been under the impression all these years you were the chivalrous type.”
I felt his smile aimed at me as I kneeled. “A chivalrous man is not the same as a perfect man.”
“Clearly,” I muttered, trying to focus on what I was doing instead of who I was doing it to, and how said person was bare-ass naked.
Grabbing the python scrap of fabric, I held it by his feet and waited. I didn’t dare look up because I was worried it wouldn’t be his eyes I’d connect with. Not at this level. And then I didn’t trust what would happen next.
Which was so inappropriate to think or fantasize about, given we were on a public beach and my real fiancé was en route as I kneeled in front of his naked twin, my swimsuit bottoms damp from something other than a morning swim.
“This was a good idea,” Matt said, his tone amused. “A great idea,” he added as I pulled the scrap of fabric up over his knees.
They were going to be tight, I discovered after having to practically wrestle them up his thighs. I’d almost tugged the python wonder into place when . . .
“Oh my god, Matt!” I half-shrieked, but I didn’t even try to divert my eyes. If he didn’t have any shame over his “issue,” I wouldn’t have any over my staring issue.
“I’m naked and standing in front of a beautiful woman while she dresses me. And this isn’t supposed to turn me on how?”
I didn’t miss the way his jaw ground when I finished yanking the swimsuit into place. Now that I was standing in front of him, he couldn’t look at me. I wondered why. He was trying to be playful and make it seem like this whole thing was a fun joke, but I could tell he was holding himself back. From saying something or doing something, I wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t half as relaxed and at ease as he was trying to convince me he was.
When I glanced down, I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. The swimsuit was impossibly small, hardly able to cover his package . . . especially when it was at full staff. The back was the same story. More of his ass hung out than was covered.
“Looks like we should have gone with the extra-large for you,” I said at last, having to cover my mouth when a laugh wanted to follow. He looked ridiculous.
Matt winked, his eyes lowering to his groin. “Glad you noticed.”
Rolling my eyes, I gave him a shove before ducking out of the dressing area. I figured I’d give him a minute to gather his courage before stepping out in his special new swimsuit. I headed to the rental shack to check out another snorkel set. When the employee asked for Matt’s shoe size so he could get the right size fins, I realized I could immediately remember what size Matt’s feet were. I couldn’t remember Jacob’s the same way. It was there—size twelve compared to Matt’s size thirteen—but the knowledge wasn’t instant, burned into my memory like all things Matt were.
Like the way he liked his toast practically burned to a crisp or how he tapped his left index finger whenever he’d been studying for a hard test or the way his arm would whip out in front of whoever was in the passenger seat when he was driving and had to slam the brakes. Matt was committed to my memory, the way a person recalled their birthday.
By the time I’d made it back from the rental shack, Matt had emerged from the dressing room and was drawing no shortage of attention. The suit was insanely tight, but if anyone could wear a so-called banana hammock, Matt Adams was that person.
With the sun beating down on him, his skin glowing from what I guessed was perspiration . . . damn, he looked good. Too good.
I made myself look away when he glanced my way. I was confused enough about how I felt for Matt and how he felt in return; I didn’t need to confuse him any more by giving him lingering looks.
We had enough complications to sort through.
So wasn’t this just the ideal time to go snorkeling? My subconscious laughed at me as I held out the extra snorkel set for Matt. You’ve just slept with the wrong man after marrying him, and your fiancé is on the way to find out what the hell is going on. Snorkeling is the obvious answer to that conundrum, right?
“Ready?” Matt had already slipped on his fins and mask and was backing into the water.
As I followed his lead, I didn’t find the same panic waiting for me. I’d never gone above my head in the ocean. Actually, I’d never even gone past my waist. The pool was different, safer somehow, but this was the ocean. It seemed endless and unpredictable.