Page 66 of Savage Surrender

Another one breaks against my hips as I push deeper. I let it pull me, arms wide, and come up laughing with wet hair across my mouth. Weller takes a step deeper.

Freddie runs past him.

He hits the water badly, knees high and arms pumping, throwing enough spray to soak Weller from the waist down. Freddie catches me around the middle and swings me into the next wave.

“Rescue complete,” he says.

I jump on his shoulders and push him into the water.

He comes up laughing and grabs for me, but wet sand gives under his feet. I twist away. He catches the back of my dress, stretching one strap down my shoulder before the fabric slips from his hand.

“I nearly saw nipple,” Tristan calls.

“Nearly?” I drag the strap lower.

His expression changes, and then he is coming for me.

I run. The water fights every step, dress wound around my thighs, Freddie’s laughter close behind us. Tristan gains anyway. He catches me at the waist just as I reach wet sand and takes me down with enough control that his shoulder hits first, but the wave rushing under us ruins the graceful part. Salt water gets up my nose. My knees slide between his, and his mouth finds my neck while I’m still coughing and laughing.

“Caught you,” he says against my skin.

“Freddie already used that one.”

“He lacked adequate follow-through.”

His hand closes over my breast through the soaked dress. The thin yellow fabric has gone nearly transparent and I’m cold everywhere except beneath his palm. He rolls my nipple between two fingers, kisses below my ear, and lets the next wash push us closer together.

Freddie drops beside us and pulls wet hair out of my mouth.

“You practically drowned her, Tristan.” Weller has waded in level with his knees now. His shirt is spotted dark from Freddie’s attack, and he looks offended by both the ocean and the fact that no one is listening.

Tristan’s mouth moves against my neck. “She’s fine.”

Owen hasn’t come any closer.

He stands beyond Weller with his feet planted at the edge, arms folded, watching Tristan’s hand toy with me.

Ridiculous man.

I pry Tristan’s fingers from my nipple, kiss the corner of his mouth, and scramble up before he can pull me back. Owen’s attention follows me but he doesn’t move an inch.

“Don’t do whatever you’re thinking.”

“Narrow it down for me.”

I splash water at him. Most of it hits his shorts. Enough reaches his face to make him blink.

“Was it that?”

He unfolds his arms.

I splash him again and run at him before he can decide whether to chase me. My shoulder hits his ribs. He catches me easily, one arm banding around my waist, but I knock us off balance and we roll into the next wave.

Owen comes up swearing, black hair hanging over his forehead. I straddle his stomach and kiss the tip of his nose. He stares at me while I kiss his cheek, his other cheek, and the furrow between his eyebrows. He turns his head when I aim for his forehead, so my mouth catches near his temple instead.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I thought the kissing made that obvious.”