Page 31 of Late to Love

She laughs quietly, turning to walk the few feet to the surf. “Ah, Anthony—you’re theworst!”

Somehow, I don’t think she means that. After a moment’s hesitation, I take a step toward her.

She leans down and makes to splash some water at me. I flinch and jump back, and it only serves to make her laugh harder.

“Let me guess—Harrison is afraid of fireworks, butyou’reafraid of the ocean?” she teases.

I cross my arms. “I am no such thing.”

Raising a dubious eyebrow in the fading light, she splashes me again.

“That’s it,” I growl, reaching out to grab her.

She squeals and leaps away, her movements hampered by the heavy surf lapping at her thighs. Then she turns and splashes again, but the waves catch her off-guard and she pitches forward.

I lunge, catching her in my arms and pulling her upright just as the wave crashes into my knees.

“Shit, how did we get this far in?” she laughs, breathless.

“Probably because you weren’t paying attention,” I admonish, a smile playing on my lips.

Her eyes zoom to my mouth and lock there, heating as I lick the salty water away. Then, without warning, she steps away and heaves a handful of water at me.

“You little brat,” I call out as she yelps and ducks out of my reach, trying like hell to outrun me.

She’s got no chance. I catch up in two strides and haul her to my chest, picking her up and holding her out of the water against my chest, one arm tucked beneath her legs and the other cradling her back.

“Put me down!” she commands, her voice high-pitched with laughter.

“Are you sure about that?” I ask, taking us a little farther in. “If I put you down, you’re getting dunked.”

Her eyes shimmer with delight as she tightens her grip on me. She doesn’t speak.

It dawns on me that I have her in my arms. All of her. My breath is hot and fast with the realization, and God, does she feel amazing. Her curves plastered against mine, her nipples pressed against my chest. She relaxes into the hold, not seeming the least concerned that I’ll drop her, and something inside me cracks wide open.

Above us, the sound of the first firework crackles above us, and the colors reflect in her eyes. Darcy’s lips tilt into a pleased smile, her gaze on the sky.

“Do you trust me?” I don’t recognize the gruffness in my voice.

She looks back at me. “Always.”

Without another word, I turn us to shore, striding through the surf and aiming for the towel I’d laid out earlier. She holds on as I move, her eyes darting over my face, shoulders, and chest before resting again on my lips. I can’t explain how I know the path her gaze takes since I’m not watching her; I simply do.

Maybe it’s because that’s the very same path my own eyes have traveled a million times, wondering how her skin would taste. How her lips would feel beneath mine, soft and pliant.

I kneel in the sand and lay her on the towel, lowering myself beside her, refusing to miss a second of watching the droplets of water trail from her forehead down to her temples.

The fireworks shoot off above us, and still, she keeps her eyes on me. “Anthony.” My name on her lips is something like a plea, and I finally can’t refuse her. Not anymore.

With my finger, I trace her temple and soft cheek, positioning her exactly where I want her. Then I lower my mouth to hers.

She tastes like she smells: watermelon and cherry, with a little sea salt thrown in. I hold there, reveling in the feel of them, knowing it’s the only time I’ll feel them for the first time, and desperately wanting to bottle the moment forever.

Darcy’s lips open and mine follow, desiring to give her exactly what she wants. WhatIwant. And as the fireworks boom above us, I slide my tongue into her mouth, exploring, tasting, nipping and sucking. She moans and sighs beneath me, threading one hand into the hair at the nape of my neck while the other cups my face, feeling my beard before sliding down to my chest.

Kissing her is everything I thought it would be. By turns innocent and chaste, then lush and lewd. When I pull away to look at her, she grins back softly, her eyes gentle even as they’re blown with lust.

“More,” she whispers. “Kiss me again, Anthony.”

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