Стейси Кестуик - Wet

“I — I just don’t,” I stammered, flustered that he’d caught that.

“Scared?”

I glared back at him, refusing to answer.

“Really? Why?” He seemed amused.

“It’s not the water I’m scared of. It’s what I can’t see in the water that bothers me. Jellyfish, sharks, stingrays — who knows what else is in there just waiting to get you.”

He laughed. “Yeah, you’ll have to get over that.”

“Whatever. It’s not your problem.” I shrugged. Before he could say anything else to me, I popped my ear buds back in and started running. Not running away, I told myself. Just running to warm back up and get to Krispy Kreme faster.

My stomach growled on cue. I was starving. As I snuck a quick look back and saw him still watching me, I tried to convince myself doughnuts were the only thing I was craving.

Later that night I stood in my room, fidgeting in front of the mirror and waiting for Rue to deliver her verdict. The blue halter gave me decent cleavage while leaving my upper back bare, and the white skirt was flirty but short. My makeup was smokier than normal, and I’d taken the time to straighten my hair and treat it with an anti-frizz serum that was probably not strong enough to withstand the evening humidity, but, really, that was asking for a miracle.

I adjusted my push-up bra. And, seriously, this bra was a push-up champion. Like, it wasn’t doing any on-the-knees girlie push-up. Oh, no, this bra was a one armed, feet spread — hoorah! — kind of push-up bra. My girls were looking as good as unsurgically possible. I was fervently hoping they would help compensate for my rusty flirting skills.

Rue inspected me, hand on her hip. She was stunning, of course. She had on a purple jersey dress that softly hugged her curves and made her waist seem tiny. To clarify, Rue always looked curvy and tiny-waisted. She was letting her twins go free tonight and easily had me beat by a good cup size. Still, she was rocking that dress something fierce. Her dark brown hair was hanging in big loose curls, and earlier in the week she had dyed the ends hot pink. It should have looked ridiculous, but on her, it was both girly and edgy. The pink ends brushed the tops of her breasts and drew attention there. The guys were going to be lining up for her tonight. And I hoped that whichever hottie picked her had a cute wingman who needed a little company too.

“I think the problem is the shoes,” she decided. She went over to my closet and rummaged around until she found a pair with taller heels. “Here, try these with it.”

I traded shoes and did a slow spin for her. She nodded, satisfied. “You’ll get laid. Probably someone more preppy than bad boy, though. You still look too wholesome.”

“I know. I can’t pull off the whole sex kitten vibe like you can,” I grumbled.

It was an old joke between us. But there was no real animosity. I tamed her down somewhat, and she pushed me out of my comfort zone. She got us into trouble and, well, yeah, she always got us into trouble, and I was there following right behind her. Full disclosure, she was the one to get us out of the trouble too. Proof? I’d been pulled over for speeding seven times since starting college. I’d been ticketed three times — the times I’d been in the car solo. When Rue was with me, she batted those pretty brown eyes of hers or turned on the waterworks, and once, the cop had apologized to us.

Rue had been pulled over six times and had yet to get a single fine.

She was the master. I was a terrible student.

“It’s a gift.” She shrugged, nonplussed.

I checked my purse one more time, making sure the condoms were tucked inside, along with my phone. I didn’t bother to put away the two discarded outfits Rue had vetoed earlier. The rule was no flings at the cottage. Hook ups were conducted strictly at the hotel or rental house of the guy. It made both clean up and exit strategy that much simpler.

We were going to Anchor, one of the two tourist bars on the island. Rue preferred it over the other place, Porthole, because the drinks were better, less watered down and higher quality alcohol. We’d waited until nine to start getting ready to make sure we’d have plenty of options by the time we got there.

Anchor was the island spot to see and be seen. It had a long curved bar, concert style lighting, and a large, two-level dance floor in the back. A live deejay played there most nights during the summer and on the weekends the rest of the year. As we walked in, one of the bartenders nodded at Rue, pointed at her hair, and gave her a thumbs-up. Rue smiled at him and motioned to me. “That’s Jason. If anyone gives you trouble, let him know, and he’ll take care of it for you.” The bartender had a shaved head and stubble, a look that worked for him, and I repeated his name to myself. He lifted his chin in acknowledgement and turned back to the girls almost falling over the bar trying to get his attention.

We snagged a table close to the dance floor so we could check out the scenery. The place wasn’t at capacity, since it was still late spring and tourist season was just starting, but there were over a hundred people out there. Rue was murmuring to me about a pair of guys wearing Clemson shirts over near the deejay booth when shots materialized in front of us. Rue turned to look at the two guys bearing gifts and lifted an eyebrow.

“You looked thirsty, and we thought we’d take care of that for you,” the one in the blue polo said, eyeing Rue like she was his last meal. “I’m Eric, and this is my cousin Jared. Your hair caught my eye. You seem spicy, and I love playing with fire. Dance with me?”

Rue glanced at me and winked. She downed her shot, grabbed Eric’s hand, and headed for the dance floor. I glanced at the guy who must be Jared. He grinned at me, his gaze lingering on my legs. At least he appreciated my best feature. “Wanna dance?”

Jared was tall and lanky with buzzed hair and a button down shirt rolled up his forearms. His nose appeared to have been broken before, and his smile was crooked but sweet. He was adorable. And really, I wasn’t feeling picky.

“I’m Sadie,” I told him, as we drank our shots and then followed after Rue and Eric.

Jared took my hand and led me to the middle of the dance floor. Pulling my hips close to him, he faced me and began to move to the music. He danced well for such a tall guy, not awkward at all. That boded well for later, I mused.

“Do you live here or are you visiting?” He leaned close to my ear to speak, his breath warming my neck.

“Visiting.” I lied without an ounce of guilt.

He nodded and then seemed content to drop the conversation. His hands slid around to the small of my back and dipped low, sitting right above my butt. My hands ran up his arms to his neck, and my hips swayed with the beat of the techno club music. His hair was surprisingly soft considering its short length, and he smelled good, like expensive cologne. I sighed and shifted a little closer, so our hips were almost touching. I’d forgotten how fun this part of being single was.

Rue walked past with Eric, and she flashed me a thumbs-up sign. I grinned at her and then turned back to Jared. We danced for over an hour, watching each other through half-closed eyes. Thank God he wasn’t one of those guys who made weird faces while he danced or checked out other women the whole time. He focused on me.

The song changed, and he spun me around, pulling my butt flush to his hips and grinding with me. His erection grew and pressed into me through his pants. I smiled to myself and rubbed against him, dipping low and slowly shimmying back up. A deep groan vibrated through his chest against my back. His fingers tightened on my hips, and he leaned down and brushed his lips over the shell of my ear. I shivered and melted back against him.