Page 126 of Ripped & Shipped
“Objectifying me, Boots?”
“I’m completely objectifying you, Soldier. It’s not your kind heart or your great sense of humor. I don’t give a rip about your bright mind and the way getting to know you is like a trip through a labyrinth. Nope. It’s all about this.”
I step closer to him, placing my hand on his chest and trailing my fingers over his abs. I look up into his eyes as I cup his jaw in my palm.
I want to say something funny—to keep joking. But I can’t. Not when he’s staring down at me with that look in his eyes.
He leans in and kisses me, pulling me close. Our skin touches and I feel every spot. My hands don’t even know where to go. I run my fingers through his hair, down his shoulders, onto his back. He’s being so careful with me. Kissing, gently stroking my hair, touching my shoulders and arms with the lightest caresses.
He pulls back. “Let’s get in the water. I think I’m going to overheat.”
I already beat you to that, Big Boy.
CHAPTER42
Ella Mae
Chris takes off his jeans.He’s got on board shorts. Then he offers to rub sunscreen on me. I return the favor.
We run toward the edge of the water and splash in. Then we make our way out to a spot where the water comes up to just below my shoulders. We swim and laugh all afternoon, floating on our backs, racing to a log further out and back, and letting go of everything that isn’t right here in this cove.
When the sun starts to dip low, Chris suggests we eat a little something.
“I don’t want to leave,” I say, trying not to whine.
“We don’t have to. I brought stuff.”
“Of course you did,” I tease.
He hauls out a mini barbecue and cooler. We eat hot dogs and chips on paper plates. And then he pulls out a box of Pop-Tarts.
We’re leaned on the back of his truck, up in the bed, a bunch of blankets under us to make things cozy.
“Is that what I think it is?” I say, laughing.
“To show you I know how to have fun.”
I lean over and trace his bottom lip with my finger. He nips at it. We smile into one another’s eyes.
“I know you know how to have fun, Chris.”
I don’t use any nicknames. This moment feels far too raw and real for anything but his actual name.
“I wasn’t fun before. I haven’t been fun in years, really,” he says. “You taught me how to have fun again.”
“I’m glad.”
I want to tell him all the things buzzing inside my head. Most of all, I want to tell him how much he means to me and the scary big feelings I’m having for him. I think he knows, but he deserves to be sure. Only, when I go to say everything, my tongue feels stuck, my throat thick with emotion.
“I really like you,” I tell him.
The air between us is languid and effortless. We’re leaning on one another, no agenda, not a care in the world. The comfortable weariness of a day spent in the water has relaxed us, and now the setting sun only adds to this unhurried ease. I’d trade my Jimmy Choos for a hundred more days together like this—or even one day.
“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds good.”
“Did I say that out loud?”
“You sort of mumbled it. It sounded like a compliment. Anytime someone says they’d trade something, it’s usually something they cherish.”
