My heart thunders out of my chest as I stumble to a halt at the edge before I even realize I’ve chased her. I look down at the long drop where she’s emerging, her head coming breaking the water’s surface already.
“That shower did you a lot of good,” I call down to her.
“Couldn’t resist. Your face was priceless!” she calls out, her voice barely carrying up the steep area. The bridge literally hangs over the uneven ground. Maybe fifteen feet long.
One side has a drop of five feet. Kylie jumped off the side that might as well be a fucking cliff. I really shouldn’t be surprised.
“You coming in? Hold your arms crossed over your chest or anchored at your sides. And close your legs!”
“That water is really cold,” I remind her.
“Oh, it’s fucking frigid as hell,” she agrees, swimming backwards as she grins up at me.
“Hell isn’t particularly known for its frigidness,” I retort dryly, staring down and wondering if I’m really about to do this.
Shit.
Without thinking too much about it, I kick my shoes off and pull my shirt over my head, then toss my pants to the ground.
Then…I take the leap.
My stomach climbs up my throat as the sensation of falling has me flailing my arms. I swear the water slams into my arms hard enough to bruise them, hence the reason she told me to hold them to my sides. Thank fuck my legs stay closed.
And that water is as cold as I used to be.
But Kylie laughing as my teeth chatter and my balls try to burrow their way into my body makes it worth it. No. No, it really doesn’t, but I won’t tell her that.
We both swim to the bank, freezing for no good reason, as we hike up the hill full of twigs that have a mission to destroy our feet.
All the while, she laughs, and I curse, and then I laugh too.
Told you I’m a lunatic.
Chapter 23
Wild Ones Tip #32
The four-letter words are our favorites. Except hell. No one likes hell, though. Hell’s too pretentious with its ‘No Wild Ones Allowed’ policy.
KYLIE
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The rain starts slowly, and suddenly it’s pouring, but I’m already inside because I smelled the rain coming.
A premature grin is on my face before Liam even dives into the cabin, soaked after just a few minutes.
“Holy shit that’s cold!” he snaps.
“Well, yeah. Summer is fading, and fall is starting. It’s going to get wetter and colder as the days drag on,” I helpfully point out, while propping up so I can enjoy everything that clingy, wet fabric of his shirt is showing off.
He shivers and curses, stripping out of his wet clothes by the door like he can’t get out of them fast enough.
It’s my favorite show to watch.
We just came back from his first auction with the Malone family.
He fit in so well that people wondered if he’d always been a part of us. My smile just continues to spread as I watch him without subtlety.
Even after having him back for almost four weeks, I’m still not tired of taking in all the beauty that is the freakishly gorgeous Liam.
The water drips down each crevice of his sculptured body that should come with warning labels. Everything about Liam should come with a warning.
Warning: Super hot guy with this easy-going, fun attitude and a crazy that almost matches mine with eerie perfection, and this incredible way of always making me smile.
I’ve been doomed from the beginning and was an idiot not to realize it sooner. If I had a phone, we’d be arguing about who had to hang up first before I came out of the bathroom and joined him in the bed.
He curses his jeans when they try to hang on, and I continue to soak in the sight, while he hops around, finally getting the last leg out of them off.
When he looks up to see me just smiling and shamelessly admiring him, he quirks a cocky eyebrow and smirks.
“Like what you see, Kylie Malone?”
Only he can flail around like an idiot for five solid minutes just to undress and still be smug when he catches me staring.
I pinch my fingers together to demonstrate a miniscule amount. “Just a little.”
He shoves his underwear down, and I deliberately lick my lips before he suddenly charges me. I’m laughing before he even picks me up, my feet dangling in front of his shins as I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him.
“You’re wearing entirely too many clothes,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Because I didn’t get wet,” I remind him.
“Pretty sure I always get you wet,” he deadpans, his smirk fixed on his face like he’s waiting for me to pat him on the back for that quick wit.
He drops me and steps back before winking at me, and I look down at my soaked clothes.