Page 44 of Meet Me In The Dark (Skeptically In Love #3)

Julian

She’s fucking wild.

That’s the only way to describe her.

Barefoot, soaked, and laughing like she just discovered freedom, she dances in and out of the waves with her arms out like wings. Her sweater clings to her body like it wants to hold her as tightly as I do.

I can’t stop watching her.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this. No filter. No careful facade. Just moonlight and some reckless giggle that has no business making my chest feel like this.

Her hair is everywhere. Wind- tangled and sea-sprayed, it whips across her face and sticks to her cheeks. She pushes it back and turns toward me with a look that usually gets me in trouble.

“Ever been skinny dipping here?”

“Celeste,” I warn, leaning back on my hands just to drink her in as she approaches me.

“Well, have you?”

“No, but why do I have the feeling you’re about to change that?”

The beach is private. That’s why I bought this house. There’s nobody else in sight for miles. Just me, the ocean, and now her.

She takes another step toward me and grins.

“That’s just a waste of good ocean.”

“Wait a—”

Too late.

The sweater comes off in one smooth pull until she’s standing there in the moonlight, bare-skinned and breathless, wearing a black bra and not a single ounce of shame.

My jaw locks.

She knows what she’s doing. Her smile says it all. She’s putting on a show, and I’m the dumb bastard in the front row who can’t look away.

Her hands trail down her stomach, thumbs hooking into the waistband of her sweatpants. She wiggles out of them, one hip, then the other.

I can’t fucking breathe.

“Jesus, Celeste.”

She unclasps her bra. The straps slide off her shoulders, and the lace falls onto the sand. She doesn’t look away. Not once. She keeps her eyes locked on mine like she’s daring me to stop her.

I don’t .

I can’t.

Bending slightly, she hooks her fingers into her panties and pulls them down in one slow motion.

She’s completely bare.

The kind of naked that’s less about seduction and more about claiming the night for herself. It’s in the tilt of her chin, the unapologetic way she stands there, moonlight spilling over every inch of her.

I’m rooted to the spot, my cock already straining, my jaw tight enough to ache.

Then she turns, gives me a view that nearly finishes me off on the spot, and tosses a wink over her shoulder. “You coming?”

Not yet, but I will be.

She bolts toward the water with a squeal, kicking sand behind her, and all I can do is sit here stunned.

What the hell do I even do with this woman?

I should remind her she was doubled over in pain less than a week ago, the ocean is freezing, and she’s going to regret this in about two minutes.

But none of that comes out.

Instead, I drag my T-shirt over my head and stand.

If she’s going to swim in the middle of the night on my beach, then the least I can do is follow her into the damn water and make sure she doesn’t drown.

She shrieks when the waves hit her knees, laughter echoing over the tide as she stumbles forward.

I can’t stop the laugh that breaks free.

She makes it waist-deep before she turns with water dripping off her skin.

The moonlight hits her just right, and something in my chest pulls tight.

“I’m waiting,” she calls.

I shake my head, stepping into the surf. “You’re insane.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“You realize I’m the one who’ll have to carry your shivering ass back up the beach?”

She shrugs. “Worth it.”

The cold hits like a punch, stealing my breath.

“Fucking hell. Don’t even ask me where my cock went,” I growl, ducking under to get it over with.

When I resurface, she’s doubled over laughing.

“You think that’s funny?” I narrow my eyes.

Her grin falters.

Good.

I send a wall of water straight into her face.

“Julian!” she sputters, blinking saltwater out of her eyes.

And because she never knows when to quit, she splashes me back, hitting me square in the face.

That’s it.

In two strides, I’m on her. My hands find her waist, hauling her against me. Her laughter dies into something else, something heavier.

Her body is cold and slick from the water, but she still feels like fire pressed to me. I brush her wet hair back from her face, my thumb lingering on her cheek as I take her in.

When I lean down, it’s not to kiss her mouth. Not yet. I kiss her forehead, each cheek, the tip of her nose, and finally, I take her lips.

She melts into me like she’s been waiting for this.

Her nails scrape down my stomach until she finds me, hard against her.

“Mmm. There he is,” she hums against my mouth, biting my bottom lip. “That’s interesting.”

“It’s inconvenient, is what it is. ”

She strokes me once, then twice.

My control takes the hit, splintering around the edges. I fist her hair, my other hand skimming down her spine, pulling her closer. Her mouth opens, and I taste her the way I know drives her insane.

My hands drop lower, gripping her ass, kneading the flesh as I press her against me.

“Fuck, Celeste,” I rasp, my fingers digging in.

Even through the fog of want, I catch it. That hesitation. Not hers, but mine.

I force my hands to still and pull back enough to see her face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She clings to my arms, eyes dark. “I’m not made of glass. I want you inside me.”

Christ.

“If it hurts, you’ll tell me. Yes?”

“I will.”

For long seconds, I search her face for any sign she doesn’t mean it. There’s none.

My breath leaves me in a sharp exhale as my hands slide to her thighs and I lift her around my waist before turning toward the shore. “If that’s the case, I want you in my bed, where I can take my time with you.”

The sound she makes in response almost has me rethinking the walk back entirely.