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“Had I known we were coming here today, I wouldn’t have blown out my hair yesterday.” I quickly tie up my mane and slowly descend into the water. It’s freezing, running from fresh springs and rivers. I squeak, arms raised, when it reaches my waist.

Tate lowers under the surface until only his eyes and the top of his head are visible. I’ve just entered shark-infested waters. We tread water, moving in a circle toward the fall. The vibrant canopy offers us some coverage, but a few rogue streaks of sunshine glitter through the fine mist filling the air, bouncing off the almost-black irises tracking my every movement.

A shiver breaks out over my skin when Tate’s foot brushes against mine.

“You cold?” He swims toward me.

The heat stirring inside of me burns my vocal cords, because I say nothing when his big, warm palms glide up and down my arms.

“I’ve always loved you in yellow.” He snaps the strap of my bikini top, his pupils dilating when my breasts jiggle with the movement. “It brings out the gold and amber in your eyes.”

I wrinkle my nose. “You say that about every color I wear.”

“It’s true. They were the first thing I noticed when we met.”

I splash him lightly. His rich laugh bounces off the trees. “Liar. We were in kindergarten when we first met. No five-year-old notices the color of someone’s eyes.”

“Nope. It was your eyes. Then your fiery hair. Followed by your cute button nose.” He taps my nose three times, his movements natural, instinctual.

My smile drops at the familiar gesture. His hand freezes midair when he realizes what he did. That definitely counts as a strike. Of all the ways Tate could touch me, this one holds the most weight, carrying over a decade of memories; it’s meaning heavier than a flirting brush of his fingers or a kiss to my palms.

“I, uh, fuck.” He stares at his hand as if he can’t believe what it’s just done. “It’s hard to break some habits.”

“It’s fine.” It isn’t.

We’re not a habit you grow out of. Tate’s as much a permanent aspect of my life as the three freckles on my nose. There’s no changing that, no matter how hard I tried convincing myself for the past year.

Our limbs tangle as we kick to stay afloat. Tate’s hands drift to my waist when my legs tire, gently pulling me flush to his body. His brow furrows deep. “Is it fine?”

No good is going to come from being honest. But so far, no good has come from locking up my true feelings. I think back to Tate’s comment in my bedroom, about how he’s never one to hold back, and maybe it’s the summer heat messing with my brain, but I take a page out of his book.

“No,” I rasp. “None of this is fine.”

Electricity shoots through my veins when his erection brushes against my stomach, the tips of his fingers digging into my flesh. My breasts press between us, our chests slick and heaving in unison as our breaths turn frenzied.

I see it in his eyes, the moment he decides to break our rule and kiss me. I give him my cheek at the very last second, gripping his biceps as I shake my head. “No touching,” I remind him, though it’s a reminder to myself too.

I want his hands on me. I want them everywhere.

He growls into my neck. “This was a mistake bringing you here when all I want to do,” his hot breath skitters across my skin, “is touch every glorious inch of you. Just a little, baby. I’ve missed you something fierce. Put me out of my misery.”

The desperation in his voice is potent enough to sway my decision, and when he toys with the strings at my hips, my defenses weaken.

“We agreed.” I glide my hands over his muscular back. “The rule is in place for a reason.”

Tate draws back. I could drown in the torrent of desire swirling in his irises. “Too bad I’ve never been good at following rules.”

With a splash, I’m lifted out of the water, legs wrapping around his waist as he cups my ass. His fingers flex, so close to where I’m aching for him. I peer down at him, hooking my arms over his shoulders. “No. You haven’t.”

I squeal when he rushes through the water toward the shallow end. With his feet on the bottom, he’s able to maneuver me to his liking, hoisting me up his torso. I go willingly, molding my curves to his hard edges, and accepting I can’t exist alongside Tate without craving him.

There’s barely any room to breathe, let alone think. A sharp gasp escapes me when Tate tugs down the cup of my bikini, revealing my breast to the cool air and his hungry mouth.

My moan of satisfaction echoes through the forest as he latches onto my nipple, sucking it deep and swirling his tongue around the tight bud. I wriggle in his hold, searching for the friction my pussy desperately needs, my clit throbbing at where it’s pressed against his lower abdomen, rubbing against the material of my bikini bottoms, making my toes curl.

“This is—Ah!” He bites down, silencing whatever weak argument I was about to throw at him.

“There she is.” He presses his face into my cleavage, inhaling deeply. “I’ve missed these tits.” He cups my other breast, kneading and weighing it in his palm. “They always looked so good with my cock between them. Remember when I tied you up like a pretty gift and fucked them until I came on your chest and tongue?”