Part 7 (2/2)
Because I haven't. Not like this.
In the afternoon, Finley and Jake join us for parasailing. Finley's all grins and giggles, her excitement aimed at me and the fact that Maverick's palm is pressed against my lower back. She whispers something to Jake, but her attention stays on me. He nods, agreeing with whatever she's telling him.
The boat slows to a stop, and our guide asks who's first. Finley jumps to her feet. ”We are!”
She pinches my a.s.s as she slides past me, clicking her tongue and winking.
Extra alone-time, she mouths.
Geez. It's not like I'll be s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g him on a boat with her and Jake fifty feet above me. Not to mention the guide isn't bailing s.h.i.+p any time soon.
”If I fall, I'm going to get eaten by a shark,” I say, eyeing the crystal clear water after Finley skips past.
Maverick hooks me around the waist, his mouth coming in against my ear. ”I don't think it's sharks you need to worry about, Jellysnack. You're marked for those translucent f.u.c.kers.”
I groan. ”Is that nickname going to stick?”
”Already has.”
He presses a small kiss to my neck before pulling back to root for Jake, who's buckling into the tandem harness beside Finley. He leaves a hand against me, his thumb doing lazy circles across the small of my back. I wonder if he knows what he's doing to me.
He flashes me a crooked grin, and I realize he definitely knows. This is his A game, his push to the finish line after my presumptive decline of his invitation last night. He's making it impossible for the same outcome to occur tonight.
And it's working. Oh, it's working so well.
My skin p.r.i.c.kles at the added warmth of his palm on me. Finley winks at me again, then whoops, pumping her arms in the air. I shoot her a thumbs-up. Surely that has to be the right response. Now Maverick's fingers are caressing just above the elastic of my swim bottoms, and I suck in air at the sensation.
Finley reaches to Jake for a kiss, and the boat lurches forward. They yell out their excitement as their feet lift off the platform.
I sit down beside Maverick and tilt my phone up toward the sky. I snap some awesome shots, including one of Finley with her tongue out and flipping me off. Maverick doesn't stop the trail of caresses on my thigh. This man is dooming me to his bed.
I've only been with one man, but he never ignited the fire that's burning in my stomach now. The higher and hotter the flames, the faster my resolve dissipates. Maverick will get what he's after, and that'll be it. Just like Finn's hook-ups.
It's inevitable, I know. At the most, this fling will be over in three more days, when he flies back to Illinois and law school. Finn and I leave the following morning. Getting attached to this man would be incredibly, incredibly stupid. A guaranteed heartbreak, and I'm still piecing myself back together from the first one.
”Hey, Jellysnack,” Maverick murmurs, sweeping windblown hair from my face. ”Are you ready to fly?”
I look up at Finley and Jake. They're making their descent, my best friend cheering and pointing at me. I point back before I turn to Maverick again.
”I'm ready if you are.”
Maverick leans in and brushes the tip of his nose over my cheek. ”I'm more than ready,” he says, and the deep husk of his voice dives into my core. I don't think we're talking about parasailing anymore.
”Good,” I whisper, because that's all the volume I can get out.
He smiles, and I have to swing my attention to my bestie to keep the heat from flus.h.i.+ng my face. It's probably a useless move, because my entire body is flushed.
Finley and Jake land on the platform, hollering and whooping and breaking the heat between Maverick and me. I'm grateful. Another minute and I'd probably be yanking Maverick's T-s.h.i.+rt off of him.
”Holy Caribbean s.h.i.+t,” Finley squeals, leaping to me. ”G.o.d, Ali. That. Was. Epic.”
”Don't vomit from up there, Tavare.” Jake slugs Maverick's arm.
”Won't be a problem, Rochester.”
Maverick and I step onto the platform and back up into the tandem harnesses. Our guide adjusts the straps to make sure we're both secure. The expression on Maverick's face makes me laugh. His eyes are alight like a child with a new puppy, and he's done this a handful of times before today. Finley and I are the parasailing virgins on this trip.
His excitement fuels my own. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. A year ago, I never would have done something like this. Chris wouldn't have allowed it, even if I'd wanted to. So this, right now, feels kind of like a ”f.u.c.k you, Chris” moment.
The boat speeds up. My feet slowly leave the platform. A s.h.i.+ver races up my spine, and I glance at Maverick. He's looking at me too, a mixture of happiness and amus.e.m.e.nt on his face.
”Scream loud, Ali!” Finley yells, her hands cupped around her mouth.
I take a deep breath, and up, up we go. My heart races, exhilaration filling me to mile-high level. Below, Finley and Jake are waving, but I hardly notice them. No, all I see is brilliant, Caribbean blue for miles.
I don't want to blink for fear of missing something. I'm smiling so big I think a bug flew into my mouth. But I don't care. Up here, I'm a bird, free like the heaven around me.
”Jellysnack,” Maverick calls loud from beside me. He points down at the water on his side. ”Look there.”
A large shadow the shape of a torpedo is under the surface. I squint. Wait, is it moving? ”Is that a shark?”
Maverick gives a one-shouldered shrug, then laughs at my expression.
”Relax,” he says, tipping his head skyward and letting go of the straps. He reaches his arms wide. ”You only live once, baby. Enjoy it.”
I keep a hold of the reins, but otherwise I mimic Maverick's position. I even allow my eyelids to fall as I breathe in the sweet air. I'm flying in paradise. What more could I want?
Finally, I open my eyes to Maverick's grin.
He slips my hand into his, gaze holding my stare, and together we fall.
The four of us spend the day doing touristy things. We pet manatees, eat tacos, and take pictures at the photo booth on the beach. Maverick is by my side the whole time, touching me with little caresses to keep me aware of his presence. As if I could forget.
By evening, we end up at an outdoor club. The music is loud and rhythmic, and even though most of the people here are spring-breakers from the States, the salsa flavor of Latino artists has everyone's hips swinging.
Jake and Finley beat Maverick and me to the dance floor, showing off their own version of dirty dancing. I laugh at their attempt at a lift. So not graceful. In fact, the people next to them have to jump out of the way of Finn's flailing arms.
Maverick nods to the other side of the room. ”Might be safer over there.”
Our friends are in their own world and don't notice us walk off. Behind us, couples shuffle their feet. The men spin the ladies samba-style. Maverick watches them, then he turns to me and twirls me once into his hold.
<script>