“Or maybe she had life all figured out.” I’ve known too many men who lost their lives too soon. Who lost their chance of living by their own rules and enlisted and risked it all to fight for the freedom of others. No chance of once in a lifetime opportunities because of one pivotal moment, one split-second decision, and their chance at lifetime was taken from them.
“Because life is beautiful and terrifying,” she whispers. “And we deserve to feel it down to our bones.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I study the horizon, poring over her words and being calmed by the gentle swell of the ocean when the pole between her knees arches, suddenly followed by the whirr of the line. “Fish on!”
“What do I do?” She squeals and reaches for the pole with both hands.
I race up behind her and grip the reel, locking it down. “Hang on tight! We’re gonna reel this bitch in together, got it?”
“Got it.” Her hands are shaking.
The delicate scent of her skin mixed with coconut sunscreen assaults my senses. I lean in so that my lips nearly touch the shell of her ear. “Deep breath, Cece.”
She gulps the air, then blows it out and I can’t help the satisfied smile that pulls my lips.
It takes almost an hour before the fish tires and I’m able to reel it in. My muscles are soft from exertion and my shirt soaked with sweat.
“What is it?”
Pulling the tired fish to the side, I grab the line and peek over the railing. “’Bout an eighty-pound yellowfin.”
She pushes up next to me. “No way! You caught that?” The excitement in her voice is contagious, there’s just something euphoric about reeling in big fish.
“You baited, so . . .” I hook it by the gills and heave it up and on the boat. Blood spills onto the deck. “Guess we both did.”
She covers her mouth with her hand. “Aren’t we going to throw him back?”
“Throw him back, are you kidding? This is dinner, freckles.”
Her jaw falls open, and those lips taunt me.
“Feel like lunch on the fly bridge?”
“The what?”
I point up top to my favorite spot on the boat.
Her gaze follows my line of site. “Sure. What’s for lunch?”
I wipe the sweat off my forehead and grin. “Sushi.”
SAWYER
Oh no, fuck no!
I thought he was kidding. I should’ve known better. Aden’s intentions with me since I stupidly boarded this boat have been my torment for his enjoyment. He loved watching me squirm over the bait tank and when I proved I wouldn’t shy away from a challenge, he pulled out the big guns. From his flirty smiles to his teasing touches, he’s discovered my weaknesses and is exploiting them for his own entertainment.
Now this? Raw fish probably still warm from fighting for its life.
And now I’m God knows how many feet above water sitting on a two-seater bench held up by rusty ladders and staring down a piece of glistening pink meat.
“You have to eat it, it’s a rite of passage.” He offers the meat to my lips and I quickly turn my face away.
“I’m really not hungry.” As if the idea isn’t enough to turn my stomach, watching him clean the fish before sectioning off enough for lunch wasn’t much of an appetite builder.
“Of course you are.” He brings the piece to his own mouth and takes a bite, closing his eyes with a moan as he chews.
I feel a rush of bile hit my throat, or maybe it’s beer, either way it’s warm and it burns. “That’s disgusting.”
“You’re telling me you don’t like sushi?”
My eyes widen. Sawyer would say she’s never had sushi. But Celia’s a different story. She ate a live cricket in the eighth grade on a dare. She didn’t even flinch. “I like sushi, just not directly from the . . . um . . . source.”
“Doesn’t get fresher than this.” He takes another bite and I can’t deny that his response to eating it does give it some appeal.
“I think I need soy sauce or that green stuff.” What’s it called?
“Just try it.”
“I really don’t want to.”
“Oh come on.” He smiles in that cute crooked way that makes my heart dip and dive. “Live a little.”
I chew the inside of my mouth debating the cost/benefit of taking a bite of this fresh-out-of-the-ocean fish. On one hand, I’ll impress Aden. That in and of itself is worth the ick factor. But what if I throw up all over his boat? Is the chance of impressing him worth totally humiliating myself? I groan when I realize what I’m doing, exactly what I swore I wouldn’t do. I’m making an internal pros and cons list. I close my eyes and steel my resolve and my spine. Don’t think, just decide. I pop open my eyes followed by my mouth.
“Yeah?” He stares at my parted lips.
I nod, hoping he’ll hurry before I change my mind.
Lifting the rose-colored flesh forward, he places it between my teeth. It’s a small bite so I close my lips around his fingers expecting him to pull away . . . but he doesn’t. For a moment I’m suspended in his gaze, totally stuck while his hot fingers rest between my lips. This should be grossing me out; after all, I watched him gut this fish with his bare hands and to wash off all the blood he merely dipped them into the ocean. But all the thoughts of raw fish and a stranger’s finger do nothing to stave off the warmth blooming in my belly. My tongue pulls the meat deeper into my mouth, brushing against the rough pad of his forefinger. He bites his lip but finally drops his hand.
He watches intently while I chew and swallow.
“How was it?” His voice is low and gruff.
Lost in the heated moment, I barely tasted it. “Good.”
His hand cups the back of my head and he pulls me toward him, stopping just short of our lips touching. “I can’t fucking take this anymore.” His breath is sawing in and out, bursting against my mouth with impatience. “Let me.” It’s a demand, not a question.
A kiss. I don’t need to channel Celia or flip a coin . . . I know what I want.
I lick my lips and close the slight distance between us.
The moment our mouths come together a fire like I’ve never felt before bursts through me. He presses against my neck, tilting my head and probing my lips open with his tongue. I gasp as the heat of his mouth invades mine and he takes full advantage. My eyes slide shut on a long moan as his attention pulls at something deep inside me. His other hand comes up to cup my jaw and the touch is so innocent yet conveys a feeling of being cherished. Protected. Like I’m something valuable and breakable.
He sips from my mouth while taking time to lavish each of my lips in sensations. Alternating between gentle tugs from his teeth and soothing suction as if my mouth is his favorite playground. My hips tingle, my thighs tremble, and I ache in places I never knew it possible to ache in. He slows the kiss, and I chase down his lips, not ready to give them up. He chuckles but indulges me, kissing me so deep my body seems to liquefy. This time when he pulls back and I go after him again, he presses his thumb against my chin and nips at the corner of my mouth.
“I’m sorry, Celia. I can’t.”
Hearing him call me by my sister’s name does the work of a cold shower. Reality crashes down all around me and shame at what I’ve done fills my chest. How could I lose all control so easily?
I scoot as far back as I can on the love-seat-sized bench in the sky to reestablish a safe distance between us.
“Shit. Don’t do that.” He runs a rough hand through his hair and I turn to hide my quickly heating face.