Page 24 of Wicked & Wildflower

I let myself glance at him, just briefly. He’s still looking at me. He’s not moving, so I begin walking again, breaking the moment of tension between us. As I approach Lou and Monica, I hearthe shuffle of something behind me before a flash of tanned skin jogs past me.

Suddenly, I’m met with the unobstructed view of Everett’s bare back. He doesn’t have tattoos there, not like the ones that crawl up his arms and around his neck. His back is entirely smooth, muscles rippling as he catches up to where his mother and my daughter sit in the sand. I watch his body move with fluidity as he bends down to kiss Monica on the cheek.

“Alright, Luce. Help me carry these boards a little closer to the water. I’m going to go through the basics with you on the sand, and then we’ll get into the water and practice standing up.”

I catch up to them, dropping our bag onto the ground next to Monica’s. Lou’s dragging the smaller of the two surfboards about fifteen yards from where our chairs and umbrella are set up. “You need to put sunscreen on before you start!” I call out to her.

“Oh, speaking of. I forgot mine,” Everett says as I squat down and dig through my bag. “Can I use some of yours?”

“Yeah, sure.” I hear Lou jog up to me. Flipping the cap on the lid, I squeeze a generous amount into my palm. I lift my hand to lather her when my gaze is met with the most gorgeous chest I’ve ever seen in my life.

All the air leaves my lungs on a swift inhale as I look up at him. A fine dusting of hair starts over his chest, trailing down his stupidly perfect stomach, beneath the band of his shorts. Endless ink dances across his muscles when he moves, the sunlight reflecting off his bronze skin with an obnoxiously golden glow. I feel saliva gather on my tongue like I’m a fucking dog staring at a rare piece of steak.

“Ah, Mom. This is my new bathing suit,” Lou’s voice breaks my trance.

I look down to find that I placed my sunscreen covered palm right into the center of her chest. “Shit. Fuck.” I reach into mybag for a towel, wiping off my hand and then her swimsuit. “Sorry.”

I ignore Everett’s knowing chuckle as he drags his surfboard across the sand and next to Lou’s.

“That’s two dollars,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Sorry,” I mutter again as I wipe her down to the best of my ability and glob another generous amount of sunscreen into my hand, rubbing it up and down her arms, legs, face, and ears.

After I finish lathering her up, I straighten out her swimsuit, make her give me a kiss, and then send her running. Everett high-fives her as they pass each other, telling her to sit on the board and wait for him to come back. I can’t stop staring at his stomach—the way it flexes when he walks, how his body is all hard lines and fine points and muscle. So much muscle. So much strength.

I think about the way he folded me against that door and held me up like I weighed nothing at all. How I didn’t get to see his full body that day, and what a disservice to the experience of fucking him that was.

Because that body deserves to be worshiped. Studied. It’s a work of art.

“I brought water,” Monica chimes. My head snaps sideways to face her, her dark brows raised behind her sunglasses. “Your mouth must be dry from all the panting.”

I realize for the first time that my jaw has been hanging completely open as I’ve been watching Everett. I clamp it shut just as he reaches us.

“Can you do me next, Wildflower?” he asks with a grin.

“¿De repente tus brazos dejaron de funcionar? ¿Ya no eres capaz de ponerte tu propio protector solar?” Monica asks with a knowing tone.

He rolls his eyes. “Mamá, ¿por qué tienes que seguir interviniendo? Sólo relájate.”

“I, uh—” I have no clue what they’re saying. I stare blankly at the two of them with the bottle of sunscreen in my hand.

Monica smiles at me. “I’m sorry. We’re being rude. Everett can put on his own sunscreen.”

He places his hands on his hips, tilting his head toward the sky as he shakes it. I extend my arm to him, handing him the bottle. He takes it without looking at me, and I settle into the chair beside Monica as Everett hands the bottle back.

Our fingers brush when I take it from him, and when my eyes snap up to meet his, they’re already on me. He winks as he pulls away.

“Please be careful,” I say breathlessly.

He flashes me an easy smile. “She’s safe with me, Wildflower. I promise.”

And in my bones, I know that’s true.

Lou and Everett have just migrated into the water, and all my mother senses are on alert. I’m watching them intently, the conversation with Monica fading out as my focus remains on them.

“I used to be afraid of my kids in the water too,” she says. “It got easier as they grew, though. Then, it got hard again after Zach.”

“Zach?” I ask, still unable to pull my gaze from the water.

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