Page 147 of Satan's Spawn
And not make me painfully regret it.
“Fuck it.” Jumping to my feet, I pull my T-shirt over my head and toss it on the ground, then quickly shimmy out of my skirt.
Crayton drags his gaze from my feet up to my breasts hidden behind a black bra. His expression is unreadable, but not leaving my body nonetheless.
Not sparing him a glance, I jump off the bridge into the water, grateful it’s deep enough to reach my boobs.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He leans back on his hands.
I spread my arms wide and spin. “Pretending I’m home.”
Crayton doesn’t seem as enthused as he watches me. In fact, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it, blowing smoke casually into the night sky.
Damn it, man. Don’t make me do this for nothing.
“Come in, it feels great.” I grin suggestively, trying to coax him.
“No thanks,” he grunts. “I don’t come here to swim, I come here to think.”
“No more thinking, let’s just enjoy the moment.”
Since the good ones between us are fleeting.
Crayton takes another long drag, his eyes perusing the area where the water meets my chest. “I’ll consider it if you take that bra off.”
“I’ll consider it if you smile.”
Totally a lie.
He flips me off, so I turn it up a notch, splashing Crayton with both hands, effectively wetting him and putting out his cigarette.
“Seriously?” he throws the butt, and I try to hold back a laugh.
“As a myocardial infarction.” I throw water at him again.
“Rebecca,” Crayton warns, but I can see the glint of amusement in his eyes.
Butterflies erupt inside me because of it.
Crayton wants to let his guard down, he’s just had it up for so long it’s become a second skin.
So this is my attempt to shed him of it.
“You better not do it ag—”
I take two hands and make a mini tidal wave, soaking him completely. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you!” I shout. “What’d you say?”
“That’s it.” He reaches behind his back and pulls off his shirt in that sexy guy way, then stands and unbuckles his belt with one hand, pulling the jeans down and kicking them off.
He stands bare before me, only tight briefs covering a very impressive bulge between his legs
The goat tattoo is exposed completely, reaching the bottom of his sternum, and for once I don’t get creeped out by it.
In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m enamored by the art covering his flesh.
I’m distracted from my gawking by Crayton leaping off the bridge, springing to a chase, making me turn and run as fast as I can against the current.
Rocks prick the bottom of my feet as I wade through the water, it hurts, but the anticipation of getting caught trumps it tenfold.
