Ready? Ready for what?
Suddenly, the boat shoots off, and I squeal, my heart hammering in my throat. We’re flying over the water in an instant, and my loose hold turns into a white-knuckle, cling-for-my-life grip.
Heath turns, and we go sailing sideways, the tube almost tipping, since Anderson’s side has more weight on it.
I crash into his side, still clutching my two handles like my survival depends on it. Anderson, the sadist and possible psycho, is actually laughing while I scream like a banshee. Wait. Why the hell am I laughing?
Painful, uncontrollable laughter filters through me when we swing sideways again, bouncing over our own wake, and Anderson crashes lightly into my side, the weight shifting with the new direction.
“Careful!” Anderson yells, glancing over at me when my grin spreads even wider, and I continue laughing like an idiot. “You almost look like you’re having fun.”
We bounce, and he curses when his body flies up for a minute. Weightlessness and adrenaline collide when we go airborne for a split second, and my breath catches as my eyes widen. The second we crash back down to the water, my laughter pours out again, and so does his.
Everyone on the boat whistles and cheers, even clapping. I have no idea how high we just went, but I know our second big bounce is even higher, because I lose my grip, remembering belatedly that my upper body strength is zero and I’m depending on it to keep me on this damn float.
I still laugh. Simply because I can’t help myself.
Even when we hit the water again, making my arms go straight, and I’m left clinging to the handles while my lower body drags in the water, I still laugh.
But…the laughter stops abruptly when I suddenly feel very, very exposed. A squeal bubbles out of me as I release the handles, and Anderson releases right behind me, both of us stopping dead in the water.
Want to know why a skimpy bikini and tubing doesn’t mix?
Anderson laughs as he swims toward me, but my eyes widen in horror when I see the boat turning around.
“Make them stop!” I shout, which ends his laughter.
“Why?”
“Because I lost my bottoms!” I hiss.
He snorts, chokes on laughter, then waves them off when they start getting close. Anderson comes to be in front of me. Instinctively, since this water is a little too clear, I hide behind him, putting my hands on his shoulders.
I’m not sure why my legs wrap around his waist, but they do, and he groans at the skin-on-skin contact. “You’re trying to torture me,” he says while his hands stroke the tops of my legs, eliciting a small shiver.
It’s like each touch we share is a small high, and I’m losing my mind, needing more and more. His hands slide around until he almost touches my ass, and he squeezes my thighs.
“Be glad I can’t reach back any farther with the damn life jacket restricting me,” he grumbles.
With the boat nearing us, I’m quick to press a soft kiss to his neck, then suck on it a little. His grip on me tightens.
“Keep on, and we’ll be breaking rules,” he says quietly.
Grinning, I move my mouth away from him just as everyone drifts beside us.
“Need some shorts,” Anderson calls loudly.
Like she knows exactly what’s going on, Monica starts fishing around in her bag, while Anderson and I float with me wrapped around his back, arms loosely around his neck like this is all too familiar.
Roman’s face is a mask of neutral as he studies us, but Anderson seems unaffected while he swims us closer to the boat. Monica tosses him a pair of shorts, and he catches them in the water.
Grateful, I snatch them out of his hand when he offers them to me, and awkwardly pull them on in the water, using him as a shield.
The second they’re on, he tugs me toward the boat’s back platform, and without an ounce of shame, slides his hand under the very short, loose shorts to help me up, putting his hand on my bare ass and squeezing.
I don’t make a sound and I do all I can to hide my smile. Heath gives me a hand up, eyeing his son when his hand comes out of the back of my shorts. Okay, now it’s awkward.
He’s the only one who saw that, and I walk up to join everyone on the boat, grabbing my cover-up and beach bag to go change into my spare suit.
“You okay?” I ask Roman warily when he stares past me to Anderson. No doubt he’s figured it out now.
“You better know what you’re doing, Sicily,” Roman says quietly, eyes finally meeting mine with seriousness as I take off my lifejacket and toss it to an empty seat.
“I’m next!” Kasha says, removing her arm since it’s not designed for saltwater, and trying to help break up the tension. “You’re coming with me, babe.”