Copyright © Tamara McHatton, 2016
“So I’m gonna ask again, wanna see my G-Spot?”
She thought what the hell so said, “Sure, lead the way.”
“Grab your bag.”
She did as he asked and followed behind him.
He led them over to a dinghy tied up underneath the pier. “Hop in.”
“If this is some kind of a joke—”
“No joke, hop in.”
So she did and threw her bag to the middle of the little boat then settled on one of the seats. This should be interesting.
He untied the dinghy and jumped in. They began to float out a bit before he started the engine.
It surprised the hell out of her that he steered it toward the yacht she’d seen moored offshore for the last week or so. “Won’t the owners get upset if you commandeer their luxury boat?”
“I think he’ll be okay with it since I know the owner.”
“Just hope y’all are good friends.”
They drew closer and she saw the name G-Spot. Now his gabber made sense but she still wondered about the owner. All this time she’d thought he was kidding.
He pulled in close to the backside of the vessel, grabbed a rope hanging from the rail, and then pulled the dinghy right up to the back, and tied it off.
His nimbleness surprised her.
He stood on a flat deck and leaned over to her. “Toss me your bag.”
“Now stand up slowly and give me your hand.”
She obeyed and he got her onboard.
“Welcome to my humble, but expensive, abode.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Oh damn. You don’t like it, do you? I mean it’s not much but…”
Over the last couple of days she’d learned he liked to tease and kid around so she figured this was another example of his humor. “I like it just fine. Are there any dead bodies on board I need to worry about from where you confiscated their boat?”
Swede threw his head back and laughed. “Nope. No dead bodies.”
He grabbed her hand and guided her through the cabin to the bathroom. “There’s a shower in there with everything you need. Only about twenty minutes of hot water in case you’re one of those long shower girls but I need one as well so leave me at least five minutes worth.”
Disappointment coursed through Brooklyn. “Aren’t you going to join me?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ve got to take care of some boat stuff. Check batteries, fuel level, bilge, that kind of stuff. Living on a craft ain’t all vacation. Besides, it’s really more of a one butt shower. Two might be cozy but you’ll never get the sand out of your…er…whatever women call their lady parts these days. Plus I need to make arrangements to get a ride to and from the event tonight.”
“No need. I’ve got my car.”
Within an hour and half they were back on the beach with the dinghy secured. They took her car to the Pelican Club, and Baker was correct. The tandem surfers stood around for a bit before called onstage to give a demonstration. She’d learned a couple new lifts that day so they tried them with success. After they finished the tandem group headed back to the beach.
It didn’t take long to build the fire pit, logs to flame up, and portable chairs and coolers to be set around the perimeter.
Swede pulled up a log and set a blanket in front of it. “Care to join me?” He opened his legs and patted his invitation.
Brooklyn didn’t hesitate. She went over and settled in front of him. It just seemed natural to set her arms on his knees and lean back into him. “I can’t believe we made the semi-finals.”
He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I told ya that could happen.”
Shivers ran over her body from his heated breath fluttering across her cheek. “It just all feels unreal, like a dream. Thank you so much.”
Swede chuckled. “I like to think of myself as a dream maker, so it works.”
Brooklyn turned to face him. “So tell me more about this boat of yours. Do you just live on it?”
“Au contraire, mon ami. I charter my boat to the islands. It’s for those semi-rich who can’t afford their own yacht but still want to have the experience.”
“That sounds really cool. Islands? Does that mean you go down to the Caribbean?”
“Sure do, probably a dozen or more times during the year.”
Brooklyn sighed. “I’ve never been.”
“Then I’ll have to fix that.” He placed a soft kiss on her cheek.
She settled back against his knees, listening to everyone. When Swede’s breath tickled her ear she jolted awake.
“Okay, tiger, time to go home.” He pulled her up and led her over to the dinghy.
Her heartbeat thudded against her chest in anticipation of what she knew would happen when they got back onboard, and she had to be truthful with herself. She wanted this. Weekend fling or not, she would have no regrets. Brooklyn sat in silence as Swede steered the dinghy to the yacht.
Like last night, he tied the smaller craft to the larger one, then hopped onboard. She became transfixed on the way his muscles rippled underneath his skin in the moonlight as he performed his task. She could watch him move around forever.
“Earth to Brooklyn.”
She snapped out of her reverie. “Sorry, I was just admiring the view.”
A devilish grin cocked up one side of his mouth. “As much as I like your appraisal I have to take care of some things first. Give me your hand.” He leaned over and helped her onto the boat then led her to the back deck. “Sit.”
Brooklyn hid her amusement at his Neanderthal command but bit her tongue instead of arguing. When he took a step over to the side and grabbed a hose she wasn’t sure what to expect. Foreplay, definitely, but his idea might be a bit different from what hers was.
Swede turned on the spigot and kneeled down in front of her, lifted her left foot, and placed it on his knee.
She braced herself for the shock of the cold water as he raised the running hose. The warmth surprised her. “Damn, that wasn’t what I expected.”
Swede let out a hearty laugh. “Living on a vessel you learn to improvise. I’m allergic to cold, hence my warm water bath for getting sand off quickly.” He let the spray splash over her lower leg as he used his free hand to gently stroke the grit away from her skin. “Besides, I don’t want to bring the beach to my bed.”