Page 21 of Resurgent
Chapter Six
Liam
We shouldn’t be going down to the beach. If I were a play-by-the-rules kind of guy, we’d stay at the villa until I had put together a plan, and then we’d leave late at night and no one would ever have known we were here except the cab driver and the guy at the front desk. But fuck it. I’m not a rule follower. That look on Charlotte’s face as she looked out at the ocean when I came downstairs… There’s no way I’m denying her that. Especially since there’s no guarantee we’ll get out of this alive.
I know that look. I used to have it myself. I loved the ocean, loved swimming in it from the time I was little and my mom and dad would take Kenzie and me to the Outer Banks every year. But when my mom got sick and died, and then my dad, the ocean saved me. Literally. I was in college at USC then—a golden boy living a charmed life. Football player, plenty of friends, pussy galore, and a family that loved me. Then, just like that, it was all gone. There was no money to pay for the fraternity or the out-of-state tuition. Not with two funerals, the medical bills, and my little sister—stunned by the loss of everyone she loved—just finishing her first year of college. She had nowhere to go, and at least some sense of normalcy at school. There wasn’t money to pay for either of us, much less both of us, so I dropped out. I didn’t care. I no longer had anything in common with the kids whose biggest concern was what party to go to that weekend anyway, and I hated the looks of pity.
Being near the ocean made me feel better. I’d go out to the beach—sometimes to drink with the handful of friends who had stood by me, and sometimes alone—and just stare out at the water. The ocean was never-changing, timeless, and that soothed my soul and gave me peace. I’d watch the tide roll in and out, and something about the way the waves would rise and then fall, endlessly, made me realize life was like that—the waves get high and overwhelm you, and then they get low and you regain your footing before the next one comes. I reevaluated my life. I pulled out the creased and worn bucket list I’d made as a kid and turned it into a plan for my future—a plan to not waste a single second of whatever life I had left. Eventually, my love for the ocean propelled me to put becoming a Navy SEAL at the top of my bucket list. I had a purpose.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by the sound of light footsteps on the stairs, and I look up to see Charlotte. She’s wearing the bikini she bought in Puerto Vallarta—the burgundy one with tiny triangle cutouts that cover just enough to hint at what’s beneath. Holy shit, she’s sexy as fuck. I let my gaze travel down her body as I whistle softly. “Damn.”
“Is it okay?” She sounds flustered, and I find myself oddly pleased by that. It feels good to be the one who unravels Miss Always-in-Control, even just a little.
“That swimsuit should be outlawed. You sure you don’t want to change your mind about no-strings-attached sex?” I wiggle my eyebrows at her suggestively and she relaxes, giving me that wide smile I was hoping for.
“Positive.”
Of course it’s the answer I was expecting. Not that I wouldn’t love to get Charlotte out of that bikini and into my bed. In fact, even under the circumstances, if she were anyone else, I would have done it already. But I know she’s off-limits. Because she’s my little sister’s best friend, yes. But also because somehow, she’s different than the other girls who’ve come in and out of my bed, and she deserves more than a guy who betrayed his country, put his friends and family in danger, and is on the run. I’m in the deepest sort of shit imaginable, and I have to get myself out of it. If I don’t, I’m going to be spending some time in jail, and that’s if I’m lucky.
The repartee, the innuendo, the sexy banter…it’s all just my way of helping her keep it together until she’s ready to process everything she’s been through. At least that’s what I’m telling myself, and it’s mostly true, although I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying it. Teasing her and flirting with her is a welcome distraction for both of us.
“You’re sure about this?” she asks.
“Definitely. Just remember to call me Tyler and kiss me passionately a few times and we’ll be fine.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling as she turns away.
The beach is a short walk from our villa. There’s a handful of hammocks strung from the trees, and the white sand is dotted with palm trees and chaise lounges under palapas umbrellas spaced out for privacy. I find an open one and lay the plush royal-blue towels provided by the hotel on them.
“You want to hang out here for a while? Absorb a little Vitamin D?”
“No. I want to walk on the beach and feel the ocean.”
“Yeah? Okay.” I hadn’t expected that. Most women prefer lying on the beach with a fruity drink in their hand, but I’m quickly learning Charlotte isn’t like most women.
Her eyes are glued to the surfers out in the wake. “Can you surf?”
“I’m a Navy SEAL. Of course I can surf,” I scoff.
“Will you teach me?” I realize I’d do just about anything she asked if she looked at me that way with those big brown eyes.
“Sure, but not today. Let’s save that for tomorrow.” I want to make sure we’re safe here.
The beach is fairly small—only about a quarter of a mile long—and we walk the length of it, talking easily. I can practically feel the tension leave Charlotte’s body with each step. Unfortunately, it has some sort of reciprocal effect, and as a result, all that tension is transferred to me. Or rather, to my cock. There’s an undeniable visceral chemistry between us that’s hard to ignore. Maybe that’s why she’s haunted my dreams for months.
There’s an outcropping of big, smooth rocks that create little tidepools, and we explore them, Charlotte “oohing” and “aahing” with each new discovery of a sea urchin, crab, or brightly colored fish. I enjoy watching her. She moves gracefully—like a dancer—and when she bends over to see a crab disappear into its shell, her bikini bottom rides up ever so slightly, revealing the sweetest curve of ass I’ve ever seen.
I’ve got to stop this. Watching her, lusting after her, is nothing but a recipe for blue balls.
After a while, we start to walk back up the beach. The sand is hot, and Charlotte dances around on it, her perky breasts bouncing with each little hop. I look away, scanning the beach for something to distract me. There’s only so much a man can take. That’s when I see him. He would have been easy to miss, standing on the balcony of a beachside villa, partially obscured by palm leaves. He looks like a tourist, gazing out at the beach and ocean, binoculars in hand. But something about him doesn’t seem quite right. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, just that familiar prickle at the back of my neck. I glance at Charlotte to make sure she’s okay, and when I look back, he’s gone, making me wonder if I imagined him. I’m getting paranoid. But just to be on the safe side, I scoop Charlotte up into my arms, determined to play up the honeymoon bit. And get her out of sight, just in case…
“What are you doing?” She struggles, her ass wiggling deliciously against me. I just tighten my grip on her as I carry her out into the Pacific.
“I need to cool off with a dip after watching you prance around in next to nothing.” There’s no way I’m telling her I’m worried the drug cartel may have spotted us, particularly since it’s probably just my imagination. I need her to act natural and not freak out. Or worse, start making a list of possible getaway routes.
She pushes uselessly against my chest, trying to wriggle out of my arms. “You don’t have to take me with you. I don’t need to cool off. I’m completely unaffected by your good looks. Which are questionable, I might add.” There’s a mischievous glint in her eye that makes me want to kiss her senseless.
“Brat.” I toss her into the surf.
