Page 113 of Unraveling Rain
Once we’re in, I turn the key in the ignition, and the radio kicks on, still tuned to the station from earlier. A familiar beat fills the car—upbeat, a little sultry, and full of rhythm. Rain starts swaying along almost instantly.
As I start driving, she leans her head back against the seat, humming softly. “This music is fun. What is it called?”
“The band is Bomba Estéreo. They mixchampetawith other styles—electronic, rap, reggae.” I pull up a playlist on my phone, trying to get it going before we pull into the driveway.
Rain’s already typing on her phone.
“What are you doing?” I ask, opening the garage door.
“I’m creating our playlist,” she says without looking up. “Songs we’ve either danced to, sung together, or just enjoyed. That way, when you’re away, I’ll have a soundtrack.”
My heart pulls tight in my chest. I don’t say anything for a second, I just look at her. She doesn’t even realize how easy it is to love her.
“Share it with me, please?” I say softly. “It’ll help me too.”
She nods and smiles.
After I park, I jog around to her side and open the door. Instead of helping her out, I cradle her face in my hands and kiss her. I’ll never tire of this overwhelming feeling. Never.
“I was thinking we could sit outside.” I say as we enter the house, “and I’ll turn on the hot tub.”
Rain frowns. Instantly, I’m in front of her.
“What’s wrong?”
She huffs and crosses her arms, adorable in her frustration. I bite my lip to avoid laughing.
“Well, apparently I’m the only idiot who doesn’t pack a swimsuit when visiting a beach town.”
I’m about to speak, but she lifts her finger to stop me.
“It's one thing for me to accept that you have a past; it’s another to wear something you probably took off someone else.”
She gags, and I lose it.
I throw my head back in laughter.
“Xander, it isn’t funny,” she says, swatting at my chest. “I’m not wearing any yucky stuff.”
I pull her into a hug as my laughter dies down, and finally, a smile forms on her gorgeous face.
“No, babe,” I reply. “I was going to suggest we skinny-dip in the ocean, and then hop into the hot tub to warm up.”
Her gray eyes sparkle like two icicles under the sun. “Now you’re talking, Hotshot.”
She walks to the couch and sits down to remove her sandals.
“Wait,” she says, freezing mid-motion. “What if someone sees us?”
I smirk as I slip off my shoes and start unbuttoning my jeans.
“It’s a private beach. If anyone sees us, they’ll be in big trouble.”
A wicked grin spreads across her face, and just like that, a shot of electricity zaps from my spine all the way to my dick.
“The last one in the water’s a loser!” she shouts, bolting up from the couch as she starts unbuttoning her dress.
I take my time. I don’t need to win. Watching her—laughing, free, wild under the stars—that’s the real victory.
