Page 70 of Into These Eyes
“Now what’s he up to?” I ask Benny.
“Beats me.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Gavin racing toward us, veering into the breaking waves. As he closes the gap, he kicks at the shallow water, sending a spray of cool droplets misting over us. I gasp, raise my salt-speckled sunnies, pop them on top of my head, and glare at him.
“Bugger off, Gav,” Benny warns, inching away from the water until he meets the soft sand.
Gavin’s roguish eyes lock with mine. He’s not done, and I’m the closest target.
With a rush of lightness bursting through my chest, I take off. As my bare feet fly over the compacted sand, I feel free, like a kid again, and I realise that’s probably the last time I actually ran anywhere.
When I hear his footfalls over the waves, I put on an extra burst of speed. I run and run, my dress plastered to the front of my body, my ponytail whipping my back. Grinning, I revel in the spontaneity and unexpectedness of this moment. When I left the house this morning, I never imagined I’d be chased along a beach by a man I hope catches me.
Then the show-off shoots past me as if I’m running backwards.
Once he’s far enough ahead, he stops and turns, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. I swerve toward the soft sand, but he mirrors me, and when I veer toward the water, he scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder. Squealing like a little girl, I pummel his back with my fists as he carries me into the waves.
His body shudders with laugher as I watch the back of his knees disappear beneath the swirling foam. When the next wave crashes into him, he stumbles, and we almost go down, the jolt sending my sunglasses into the ocean.
“My sunnies!” I shriek.
He twirls around, his laughter vanishing. “Hold on! We’re going under!”
“Gavin! Don’t you dare!” I buck and squirm, kicking my legs. “Please! The salt water’ll ruin this dress,” I shout, not having the faintest idea if that’s true or not.
“Okay, okay,” he grumbles, heading to shore. When the water becomes shallow, one of his hands releases the back of my thigh, and he dips low as if he’s about to put me down. Before my feet touch the sand, he straightens up. It’s not until he clutches my thigh again, that I tune into the position of his hands.
Holding down my dress, they curl around each thigh just below my backside. I should be grateful he’s not giving the whole beach a view of my undies, but my concentration is on the way his pinkies graze my bare skin below the hem of my dress, the heat of his hands and the firmness of his grip only centimetres from my arse. I should be screaming that this is highly inappropriate, but the way my body’s reacting drowns out all rational thought.
Trying to distract myself, I accuse, “I can’t believe you lost my sunnies.”
“You can have mine.”
As he steps free of the water, I watch the damp sand turn dry. He needs to put me down before those hands of his turn me into a puddle of mush.
“Can’t … breathe,” I whimper.
In a whirl of movement, he catches me in his arms, hoisting me close to his chest. I instinctively clutch his shoulders and stare straight into his grinning face. A face wearing my sunnies.
“You bastard!” I laugh, snatching them from his eyes and shoving them back where they belong.
“Well, that’s not a very nicethank you.”
“Ha! You’re the one … where’re we going?”
“I want to show you something,” he says through laboured breaths he’s trying to mask. As he walks halfway up a sloping sand dune, I take in the effort on his face, feel his feet sinking into the loose sand.
Just as I’m about to insist he put me down, he loses his footing. I squeal, wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tight.
With lightning reflexes, he pivots, landing on his butt with me in his lap, the arm around my back holding me tight to his chest. While I wait for him to release me, I realise I’m not letting go either.
Heart thundering, I lean back a little.
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
When I meet his eyes, there’s not an ounce of apology in their striking blue depths. “No, you’re not.”
I get a bullshit hurt expression in response. “You don’t believe me?”
