“The sand.” She hopped from one foot to the other. “It’s hot.”
He grinned, not seeming to have noticed the molten-like grains beneath his soles. “So hop on.”
“What?”
He turned and squatted a little. “Hop on. I’ll give you a piggyback.”
She glanced at the cool relief of the water. It was a good thirty paces away. Her feet would be bereft of skin if she tried to make a dash for it, she was sure.
Quickly, she launched herself onto his back, wrapping her legs over his hips and her arms around his neck.
He didn’t seem to notice her weight and hooked his elbows beneath her legs as he straightened and paced toward thesurf.
The sudden press of her breasts against his hard body, and the connection of their sun-warmed flesh, was intoxicating. It felt so good to be close to him. To be carried by him.
“Aren’t your feet on fire?” she asked against his ear.
“They’ve been cooler.” He laughed. “But no gain without pain, and I want to get in those waves.”
She glanced around. There was hardly anyone about—no one to judge her bikini or the fact she was getting a ride across the beach. Out at sea, a couple of yachts bobbed in the distance, and closer to shore, three surfers were sitting on their boards, close together, apparently enjoying a gossip.
Jayden splashed into the ebb of a wave, several big strides that sent cold water peppering over her feet.
She squealed and wriggled, and he put her down. Her feet were instantly cooled, and a wave caught her up to her knees. She teetered, and he put out his hand to catch her elbow. Again, she laughed.
He did too. “See, told you you’d enjoy it.”
“It’s cold.”
“It’s the Pacific Ocean, not your tub.”
“I never said it was.” She turned to look at the horizon and took several steps deeper, pausing when another wave came, this time wetting her up to her thighs.
“You ever surfed?” he asked, gesturing at the bobbing surfers.
“No, you?”
“Yeah, used to a lot, with Wyatt and Carter, but not so much lately.”
“Why not?”
“Just shit going down with the club, things to do and that.”
“You miss surfing?”
“A bit. But my bike’s my first love.”
“The bike is … cool.”
He laughed. “What about you? Got any hobbies?”
She stilled and tipped her head, a memory coming back. “I used to dance—ballet. A long time ago.”
“Yeah, I can imagine you doing that.”
“You can?” She turned to him. “I can’t, not anymore.”
“Wanna take it up again?”