Page 31 of Writing Mr. Wrong
GEMMA
S he went back inside to find Mason chilling on the sofa, listening to an audiobook.
When he popped out his earbuds, she asked, “Is it too late for that boat ride and swim?”
He grinned. “Never. I’m all set.” He waved down at his swim trunks. “Just waiting for you.”
“Give me five minutes.”
Four minutes later, she stood in her room, glaring at her reflection in the mirror.
This was not a bikini. It was three scraps of leftover fabric on strings. The top barely covered her breasts, which might be the first time she’d ever uttered those words. The bottom did not cover her ass, and clearly it wasn’t supposed to.
She didn’t have any hangups about her softening middle or lack of a fuller figure. But this was not a bathing suit one wore swimming with a male friend.
It might send the wrong message.
The wrong message? Or…?
Fuck it.
She grabbed a towel and headed for the door.
MASON
Holy shit. He owed a big tip to whoever had packed that bikini.
It’d have been awkward if she had a problem with it, but she obviously didn’t. He had a problem with it, though. Namely that he was going to need to carry his towel in front of him until he got into the water.
Unless… he didn’t.
Unless he let her see his obvious appreciation.
No, that moved too fast. Don’t be a perv. Read her signals and respond appropriately.
He didn’t need the cover-up towel just yet, but only because she was in front of him, and he was happy to let her take the lead while he fully appreciated the rear view.
When they reached the boathouse, he swung his towel over his arm, draping it just right. Gemma opened the door and reached inside to hit the light. It gave a little flicker as if it hadn’t been used in a while. Then it popped on to reveal a small building that barely contained a not-so-small boat.
“Holy shit,” Gemma breathed. “I expected a little motorboat.”
“Is that a cabin cruiser?”
She smiled. “No cabin, so it’s just a cruiser. A sport boat. A damn sight fancier than my grandparents’ old cabin cruiser.”
She climbed on board and started up the boat, and he expected a smooth roar. Instead, it gave a little cough before starting rough.
Gemma turned the engine off. “Sounds like it hasn’t been started in a while. Let me give it a second.”
He walked up behind her.
“I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong,” she said. “There are instructions right there, and they’re very basic.”
She pointed at the laminated list, which had more instructions for using the stereo than the seemingly simple act of starting the boat.
Mason put his hands on her hips to move up behind her and read the list. She was standing on a box at the controls, which meant that her ass lined up perfectly with his cock.
He’d left a gap there, but she eased back, as if to let him see the list better.
Then she stopped, and he waited, breath picking up speed, ready for her to pull away.
She must feel his hard cock pressing into her ass.
Unlike on the bike, there was no way to mistake it for anything else.
She bent to point at the control panel, which rubbed her ass firmly against his cock.
“See?” she said. “I followed the instructions perfectly.”
“So you turned this…” He reached to put his hand over hers, on the ignition.
He turned the knob, and the boat started rumbling, vibrating as he pressed against her.
“Rough, right?” she said, and it took a moment for him to correctly process those words in context.
“It sounds rough to me,” he said.
She sighed, turned it off, and leaned backward into him.
Well, hello.
He put his arms around her waist. “Give it another shot. Third time’s the charm, right?”
She bent over the controls, her ass firmly against him. When she turned the ignition, the boat started, smoother this time, and she twisted in his arms, grinning up at him.
“Success.”
“Good thing I brought the champagne.”
Another grin. “Break it out and let’s go.”