Page 20 of Cross Check Daddies (Miami Icemen #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Tanner

The sky’s ink-dark above me, clouds heavy, waves licking the shore in long, rhythmic pulls. My board’s already staked in the sand beside me, towel slung over a weathered post, and I’ve been staring at the dune path for what feels like an hour.

She’s not coming.

And that should be my cue to leave. Let it go. Let her go.

But then— Movement. The sound of footsteps over the boardwalk, light but certain. I turn slowly, like I might be seeing things.

She’s walking toward me, every bit real and stupidly gorgeous in the moonlight.

She’s wearing a slouchy, cream-colored sweater that hits mid-thigh, sleeves bunched at the elbows.

Her legs are bare, smooth and endless, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs like it was designed to tease.

Flip-flops slap against her heels as she comes closer, hair loose and messy, lips slightly parted like she ran the last block and hasn’t decided whether to speak or just collapse.

I say nothing at first. Just stare. Because, dang.

“You’re late,” I say.

“I almost didn’t come.”

“But you did.”

She stops a few feet from me. Her eyes scan the beach, the water. Then me.

“It’s too late.”

“Exactly why we should surf.”

She raises a brow, skeptical but curious. “You’re insane.”

I gesture toward the ocean. “I’m here. Nothing will hurt you. Not while I’m in the water too.”

She looks at the waves, biting her lip, weighing the risk. Then nods once, still unsure. It’s enough.

“I know what’s going on with Cam is complicated,” I say, stepping closer. “I’m not asking you to ignore that. I’m asking for a fair chance. One that isn’t measured against him.”

She lets out a short, stunned laugh. “And do what? Date brothers?”

“So this is a date,” I shoot back, grinning.

“Tanner,” she says my name like it’s a warning, exasperated but soft, dragged through a sigh.

I take her hand, lift it, and kiss her palm. Her breath stalls. I hold it there, just long enough to make the point.

“This is already messy,” I say, eyes on hers.

“I’m supposed to have dinner with someone else soon.”

“And I’m not walking away just because it’s inconvenient. You’re a progressive woman, right? You can make your choice when you’re ready.”

Her eyes narrow, amused. “Oh, you’re smug.”

“No. I’m certain.”

“I don’t even have a bathing suit,” she says, pulling her hand away but not moving otherwise.

I crouch beside my duffel, unzip it, and pull out a small mesh bag. “You do now.”

She reaches for it, lifting the flap, eyes widening as she pulls out a delicate coral bikini with gold ring accents, followed by a black one with a strappy crisscross back, and then a teal number that looks like it belongs in a catalog for the world’s most sinful vacation. Her face goes a little pink.

“These are gorgeous,” she says, running her fingers over the fabric.

“Pick one. Change in the tent.” I nod toward the pop-up I set up earlier near the dunes. “Then meet me by the water. We’ll surf. Laugh. Maybe forget what a dumpster fire the rest of the week has been.”

She runs a hand through her hair, pausing like she’s about to say no. Then she exhales and nods.

“Okay.”

She disappears into the tent with the bag, and I turn back to the ocean, eyes on the waves. They’re tame tonight. Just enough to play. Nothing dangerous. Nothing she can’t handle.

A few minutes later, she reappears. My mouth goes dry.

She chose the black suit.

It hugs every curve she’s got, straps teasing across her back, dipping low between her shoulder blades, the bottoms cut high on her thighs. She’s barefoot, sand clinging to her calves. Moonlight slides down the slope of her collarbone, silvering her skin.

“You’re staring,” she says.

“Damn right I am.”

She walks past me, toward the water. “Let’s see if you’re as good on the board as you are at talking me into things.”

We paddle out. I help her balance. She squeals when the first wave knocks her sideways and laughs when I catch her waist, steadying her for the next one. Her hair gets soaked. Mine too.

We lose track of time chasing waves and bad jokes, splashing each other like we’re kids again. Her body moves with mine like it’s always known the rhythm, like the space between us doesn’t know how to stay wide for long.

When we finally collapse onto the sand, breathless and dripping, she lies beside me on the towel, hair spread out, skin flushed from salt and play. I glance over at her, heart thudding.

She turns her head toward me, still catching her breath.

“Why do you keep doing this?” she asks. “You’re making it so hard not to want everything.”

I shift, brushing a wet strand from her cheek.

“Because you already do. And I’m not going to pretend I don’t see it.”

She says nothing. Just stares at me, water beading on her lashes, lips parted like she’s caught between running and leaning in.

So, I do it for her.

I lean over and kiss her, slow and wet and deep, tasting the salt and heat and something darker. Her mouth opens under mine, her hands sliding up my shoulders, pulling me closer until I’m half on top of her, and neither of us cares how soaked we are.

This thing—whatever it is—it’s not safe. It’s not smart. But it’s alive.

And she’s still here. Which means she hasn’t said no yet.

Her body’s pressed to mine, still slick from the surf, her breath catching every time I slide my thigh between hers. She’s grinding against me like she’s forgotten where we are.

Her lips are on mine, hungry, wetter than they were earlier, and every shift of her hips drags her cunt right over the hard line of my cock, still trapped behind board shorts that are doing nothing to hide how badly I want her.

She gasps when I suck on her bottom lip, her nails scraping lightly over my shoulders, and then pulls back, eyes wild.

“I have an idea,” she whispers.

“Me too,” I say, kissing her through the fabric of her bikini top, nuzzling the curve of her breast as I mouth over it. “Starts with you riding my?—”

“No,” she giggles, sitting up suddenly. “Not that. Not yet.”

Damn, I love seeing her like this—lit by moonlight and adrenaline, her skin glowing and her laugh cracking the tension like a match to oil.

“What kind of idea?” I ask, sitting up with her, my cock still throbbing.

She stands, backing away from me. Then, without a single warning, she tugs the bikini top over her head and drops it. My jaw goes slack.

Then she shimmies her bikini bottoms down, those teasing hips swaying like she knows I’m about to lose it. She tosses them onto the towel, then runs straight into the ocean.

“Skinny dipping,” I mutter to myself, stunned and lit the fuck up. “She’s naked in the damn ocean.”

I kick off my shorts, the cool air slicing across my cock as I chase after her.

I catch up fast. She shrieks when my hands wrap around her waist, and I lift her into the water.

Instinctively, she wraps her legs around me.

Her skin’s warm under the surface, and soft as hell. I press my lips to her shoulder.

“You’re gorgeous,” I murmur, pulling her in tight, letting her body line up against mine with nothing between us.

She kisses me hard this time, fingers in my hair, her bare chest pressing into mine as the water rises around us.

I guide us deeper until we’re weightless, until the waves barely touch our shoulders.

Her arms loop around my neck. It’s surreal—floating out here in the dark with her skin on mine, her mouth hot, open, devouring every kiss like she’s starved for it.

“Where’s Jackson?” I ask between kisses, breath ragged.

“With his dad,” she says, voice quieter now. “Aaron’s in town.”

“So you can stay. With me. For as long as you can.”

She kisses me again, nodding. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she murmurs, her forehead resting against mine.

“What, this?” I ask, my hand sliding between her thighs under the water.

She gasps, legs tightening around me, hips shifting against my palm. Her cunt is hot, already pulsing with need. “Fuck, Tanner?—”

“You made me come in my pants earlier,” I mutter against her throat. “It’s my turn.”

She whimpers when I slide two fingers inside her, my thumb rubbing her clit in slow circles.

Her nails dig into my shoulders as she clings to me, her breath coming in short, desperate sounds.

I can feel her tightening around me, grinding down against my hand, body rolling with each wave. Her head falls back. I mouth her neck.

“Let go,” I whisper. “Just let me have this.”

She gasps when she comes, hard, cunt fluttering around my fingers, her body melting into mine. The way she clings to me now makes something break open in my chest.

I lift her higher, her thighs cradling my waist, my cock pressing between us, thick and aching.

“Condom,” she pants.

“Yes,” I say. “Back to shore.”

I carry her through the surf, both of us breathing hard, hands still exploring as we stumble back toward the tent. I grab the towels and wrap one around her, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.

We duck inside, the zip sealing us into a world that’s just the two of us. The space is small, warm, lined with blankets and pillows I brought because I wanted her to stay. Maybe not like this. But maybe exactly like this.

She drops the towel and lies back on the blankets, hair damp, eyes burning into me. I dig the condom out of the bag and roll it on, watching her watch me. The second I crawl over her, she grabs my jaw and pulls me down for another kiss.

This time there’s no stopping. No teasing. Just her cunt, slick and ready as I press into her slowly, filling her inch by inch. She arches, mouth falling open, her hands gripping my arms as I bury myself to the hilt.

“Fuck, you feel?—”

She moans, wrapping her legs around me, grinding up to meet each slow thrust. I drag my mouth down her neck, her chest, her shoulder, until she’s clawing at me, hips rising to meet mine, breaths turning into broken sounds every time I hit deep.

We find a rhythm fast, urgent, and hot and smooth. I want to make this last, but she’s so tight around me, body clenching every time I rock into her. Her nails dig into my ass, dragging me harder, deeper, and I’m gone. Lost in her taste, her heat, the way she’s whispering my name like a spell.

She comes again, gasping, her cunt pulsing around me, dragging me with her into something hot and devastating.

When we collapse, tangled and panting, her head on my chest, her hand resting on my stomach, I don’t say a word.

I just hold her. And hope she doesn’t run.