Page 172 of Better When Shared
“The trick is lubricant.” He grabbed a small bottle from his truck. “Makes it easier to slide in.”
I blinked, still staring at his dick for a moment before I realized he was still talking about wetsuits.
He stepped into the wetsuit, working it up his legs with a series of tugs and shimmies that looked ridiculous but effective. The neoprene clung to his body like a second skin, outlining every muscle.
“Your turn.” He reached back, muscles flexing beneath the neoprene as he grabbed a string that tugged the zipper up. “Need some help with the lube?”
Bloody hell, would he stop mentioning lube? “I—I can manage.”
Taking a deep breath, I set the wetsuit down and pulled off my sweater, then, after a moment’s hesitation, my shirt and shorts, leaving my swim trunks. The cool air raised goosebumps on my skin. I wasn’t out of shape, but I felt pale and soft compared to Makai’s sun-kissed perfection.
I took the bottle he offered, applying the lubricant as I’d seen him do. The wetsuit looked way too small.
“Is this really my size?”
“Trust me. The tighter it is, the warmer you’ll be.” He bent down and helped arrange the suit for me to step into. “Pull it on like pants, but be prepared for a fight.”
I stepped into the leg openings, encountering resistance as I tried to pull the material up. It clung to my calves, refusing to budge past my knees.
“Jump a little,” Makai suggested, lips twitching into a smile. “And wiggle your hips.”
Feeling ridiculous, I did as instructed, hopping awkwardly while yanking at the stubborn neoprene. It inched upward, bunching around my thighs.
“Is it supposed to be this difficult?”
Makai laughed, circling around me. “Every time. It’s the surfer’s dance.” He reached out, grabbing the wetsuit at my hips and giving it a sharp pull upward. “Lift your right leg a bit.”
His hands on the suit sent a jolt of wild awareness through me, making me wish I could do it without his help. I followed his instructions, and with his help, soon I was pushing my arms into the sleeves, immediately feeling like I was being vacuum-sealed.
“Almost there,” Makai encouraged, stepping behind me to grab the zipper at the back. “Deep breath in.”
I inhaled as much as the suit would allow, and he zipped it up with a single smooth motion. I stretched experimentally, surprised to find I could move.
“How does it feel?” He stepped back, eyes assessing.
“Not as terrible as I expected.”
“You look good in it.” His gaze was appreciative, with an edge of something that made my pulse quicken.
“Wetsuits are way more comfortable if you go naked underneath. The seams on swimsuits can chafe like hell. But I figured I’d spare you the full monty when you were already nervous.”
“Now you’ve experienced the worst part of surfing in cold weather. Everything else is a piece of cake.”
I laughed despite my embarrassment. There was something absurdly intimate about the whole experience; struggling into these second skins together, helping each other with zippers and adjustments. It felt like we’d bypassed several levels of acquaintanceship in the span of twenty minutes.
“Thanks for waiting on the nudity,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I appreciate the small mercy.”
“I’m nothing if not considerate.” He winked and turned to retrieve the surfboards from against the truck. “So, what do you think? Ready to at least try standing on this thing on dry land?”
My initial panic had subsided, replaced by a strange calm that I couldn’t quite explain. Perhaps it was the ridiculousness of the wetsuit struggle, or Makai’s infectious enthusiasm, but I decided to go for it.
“Sure. Why not? We won’t go in water?”
“Not unless you ask to.” His smile was brilliant, and I grabbed the foamie and followed him down to the sand.
Makai laid the boards on the beach and began explaining proper foot positioning. The sun had emerged from the clouds, warming the beach and making the water sparkle. For the first time since arriving on the island, I felt something close to contentment, the ever-present knot of anxiety in my chest loosening enough to let me breathe freely.
Maybe there was something to this surfing thing after all.
