Page 78 of Sergeant O'
She slid her arm around my neck and stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my lips.
“Good thing I’m a one-man woman, then.”
I realizedIwas that man and warred between taking her back into the bedroom or beating my chest.
I opted for hauling the cooler while she carried the beach bag with towels, sunscreen, snacks, her book, and our phones.
My thigh ached as I hopped on the hot sand in my bare feet, but watching her stride across the beach in her flip flops like she owned it was enough of a distraction to make me ignore the pain.
She dropped the bag just out of reach of the tide and took out a blue and white striped towel, shaking it out to unroll it with a snap before laying it flat, then grabbed a pink one. I set the cooler down beside the blue towel, though my attention never left her. Half the men on the beach were staring at her, and I wanted to snarl at them like a dog protecting his bone.
I stepped closer, sliding a hand around her waist as she bent to spread the second towel. My thumb pressed against her bare hip, claiming the spot like it belonged to me. She glanced up at me, eyes sparking with heat and just a hint of amusement, like she knew exactly what I was doing.
“I hope you’re not planning on peeing on me, too. I didn’t sign up for watersports.”
“You don’t have to worry, that’s not my kink either.” I slowly lowered my mouth to hers and murmured, “But I am going to make sure these assholes know you’re with me,” before kissing the hell out of her for the whole beach to see.
She wound her arms around my neck and kissed me back. As my hands tightened against her bare waist, I’d never been so glad to not be in Haven Springs, where I didn’t have to worry about someone sending my mother a video of me making out on the beach with Jade Beaumont in a bikini.
****
Jade
Brian’s kiss made my knees go weak, so I was grateful for his hands firmly holding my hips.
I should’ve been embarrassed, making out on a crowded beach with strangers looking on, but all I felt was claimed. Wanted. Safe.
When he finally pulled back and looked down at me, I whispered, “You know everyone’s staring, right?”
“Good, let ’em.” he said, thumb still circling lazy patterns on my skin. “They need to know you’re mine.”
I tugged his head down so I could kiss him again, sliding my right hand down his chest with my fingers splayed against the warm plane of his abs. Just for good measure, I gave his ass three quick, possessive taps with my left hand.
“I need to make sure all these bitches know you’re mine, too.”
The grin that tugged at his mouth made my stomach flip, but I shrugged like it was no big deal, crossed my ankles, and sat down on my pink and white striped towel.
He sat down next to me, opened the cooler, and offered me a can of soda.
I shook my head and murmured, “Not right now, thanks,” so he opened it and took a sip himself.
With the soda can at his lips, he stated, “I wanna hear you say it.”
I feigned ignorance, although I had to admit, I wasn’t very convincing. “Say what?”
“That you’re mine.” He said it almost like it was a dare.
And I was never one to turn down a dare.
I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “I’m yours.”
Then he smiled a small, dumb smile that made my stomach drop. Holding my chin in place with two fingers, he looked me in the eye. “You’re damn right you are.” His voice was rough for how tenderly he kissed me.
It was something teenage me had only dreamed of—making out in the sand with Brian O’Shaughnessy, shirtless in board shorts after he asked me to be his girlfriend.
Except twenty-seven-year-old me knew better than to think this was anything more than what it was: a short-term fling.
I shoved him, playful and gentle, because I needed a reality check and I couldn’t do that with his lips on mine.
