Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
My brain short circuits.
Holy mother of glorious muscles.
His chest and shoulders stretch wide and powerful. Black ink covers so much of his skin I can’t even process all the designs at once. Tribal patterns twist across one shoulder and down his arm. A fierce kraken wraps around his ribs with tentacles that look ready to drag ships under. Scars mark his body like violent stories. My mouth falls open a little. I’ve never seen anything so raw and beautiful and dangerous all at once.
Wow. Just... wow. That isn’t a man. That’s a weapon wrapped in skin. And I shouldn’t be looking. I really shouldn’t be looking. He’d never go for a girl like me anyway. I’m the one who apologizes to furniture and names her houseplants after boy bands. He probably dates women who can ride motorcycles and throw knives and look sexy doing it.
I force my eyes back to the water. My heart races fast. The sun feels hotter on my skin now. I dip lower and let the waves swirl around my thighs. The cool water does nothing to calm the heat building inside me. I sneak another glance. Kraken stands barefoot in just his jeans. The denim rides low on his hips. Those V lines disappear beneath the waistband and my imagination fills in the rest with very unhelpful details.
He crosses his arms again. The movement makes all those muscles shift and flex under the ink. I swallow hard. My thoughts tumble wild and flirty despite every warning bell in my head.
Don’t think about running your hands over those tattoos, Tia. Do not imagine what it would feel like to trace every line with your fingers. Or your tongue. Nope. Off limits. Danger zone. He’s your bodyguard. Not your extremely hot beach fantasy.
I turn back to the ocean and splash a little water on my arms. The droplets sparkle in the sunlight. A wave comes in stronger and soaks me up to my waist. I squeak and jump back. Laughter bubbles out of me before I can stop it.
Kraken’s voice carries over the waves. Rough like sandpaper. “You’re going to get yourself swept out if you’re not careful.”
I glance back again. He’s moved closer to the water line. His bare feet sink into the wet sand. The sun beats down on his shoulders and highlights every ridge of muscle. My stomach flips in the most embarrassing way.
I'm being very careful. See?" I wiggle in the shallow water. "The ocean is basically medicine. You could come closer and supervise properly. Bodyguard duties and all that."
He doesn't answer. But he takes one step toward the waterline.
I don't think. I just turn and wade back toward shore, and when I reach the spot where the sand goes from dark to dry I stop right in front of him, close enough that a wave washing in swirls cold around both our feet. His jaw tightens. I reach out and touch his arm—just my fingers against his forearm, light, like I'm steadying myself—and I feel the muscle go absolutely rigid under my hand.
I look up at him.
He's looking at my hand.
Neither of us moves. The wave pulls back out and the sand shifts under my feet and I should step away, I know I should, but something about the way he's staring at where I'm touching him makes me stay exactly where I am. Like moving would break something that hasn't finished happening yet.
"Tia." His voice comes out low. A warning.
"I know," I say.
I don't know what I'm agreeing to. But I mean it.
He finally looks up from my hand to my face. Whatever he finds there makes something in his expression go tight and complicated—not the blank wall he usually shows me, something underneath it, something that looks almost like it costs him. His free hand comes up slowly and closes over mine where it rests on his arm.
Not moving it. Not pulling it away.
Just covering it.
His palm is rough and warm and huge, and for three full seconds we stand there in the shallows with the water swirling around our ankles and his hand over mine and his eyes doing something I don't have a name for.
Then he steps back. Takes my hand with him and sets it gently at my side like he's returning something he borrowed.
"Come on," he says. He turns toward the path before I can see his face. "We're done out here."
I follow him up the sand. My hand still feels warm where his was. The ocean keeps coming in behind us like it didn't notice what just happened, but I noticed. And from the set of his shoulders ahead of me, the way he's walking like he's angry at the ground—
He noticed too.
6
Kraken
The walk up the path stays quiet. She doesn't fill the silence with chatter the way she usually does, and somehow that's worse. I'm aware of every step she takes beside me. The wet fabric of her dress. The salt drying on her skin.