Page 109 of Faking the Pass
The thought irked me a bit, though I wasn’t sure why.
Presley had been fishing all his life, and I already knew he’d had a lot of girlfriends.
He would no doubt have manyfishing partnersafter our arrangement ended as well.
My smile belied the sudden sinkhole in my chest.
“I seriously doubt I’ll be catching anything,” I told him and Matt, “unless Save the Bay missed some trash floating around out here. I’ve never caught a fish in my life.”
The captain swiped a bright yellow stripe of zinc oxide down his nose and laughed.
“You gotta think positive—the fish can feel it. Plus, it’s a pretty active day today. They tend to bite when the water is a bit choppy like this. I think we’re in for a good catch.”
Presley had been correct about the weather. While it was windy, there was not a cloud in the sky, and the sun did get hot after a while.
He apparently felt the heat as well, because about an hour into the excursion, he stripped off his t-shirt.
Matt did the same, but it wasn’thisbody I couldn’t tear my eyes away from.
I hadn’t seen Presley shirtless since we’d been on the island, and the sight was bringing back all kinds of unwanted memories—and feelings.
My fingers literally ached from the desire to touch that golden skin and the clearly defined muscles beneath it.
As I watched him fishing and joking around with Matt, I realized I hadn’t seen a genuine smile like that on his face since we’d been back in Eastport Bay either.
Our last few days on the island, it seemed like Presley had smiled non-stop.
Well, his facehaddoneotherthings when he’d been in the heat of the moment—intense and fiercely beautiful as he sank deep inside me.
Speaking of heat, the memory poured molten desire through my abdomen and lower, my body apparently confusing the past with the present.
Chill out, girlfriend. Not gonna happen.
My intimate parts didn’t listen, convinced that it was time to prepare for an experience that was never going to occur again.
Just then, as if he could hear my thoughts and sense my rising body heat, Presley turned and locked eyes with me.
Oh God, what must my face look like right now with those thoughts going through my head?
Thankfully, the sea gods provided a timely distraction in the form of a hard tug at the end of my line.
“Hey, I felt something. I think I might have a fish,” I said in a high, nervous voice.
“Good for you,” Matt yelled and gave me a thumbs up gesture with one hand while holding his own fishing rod in the other.
Presley smiled at me—for what felt like the first time in years.
God I’d missed that smile.
He came over to stand beside me, and the line jerked again, even harder this time, causing my rod to dip lower over the side of the boat.
“Yeah, you hooked one alright,” he said. “Grip it tight with both hands.”
The next tug on the line almost ripped the fishing pole from my hands. “Whoa. How bigisthis thing?”
Presley grinned. “Big enough to keep.”
Turning to look at him, I offered him the rod. “You reel it in.”
