In Waves | ✔️

17 | night swims

"How do you know?"

"Did you not just see me run up that sand dune?"

"Not the same thing," he says, lowering himself into the water again. "You cheated on the way down, I cheated on the way up, so we need a tiebreaker."

"All right. On three," I say, trying to suppress the tingle I just got from watching his tongue swipe away a droplet on his lip. "One."

"Two."

"Three!"

We both take a gasp and plunge under, suddenly surrounded by muffled silence. The lights around the pool refract through the water, dancing over our floating figures. We're looking at each other, and my lungs are already starting to burn, and I know he can tell. The slightest, smuggest smile pulls at his lips as he waits for me to cave. Instead, I swim right up to him, and that smile falters.

I push through the building pressure in my chest, edging closer and closer. Nate's eyes scan over my face as my nose brushes his, our lips almost grazing. He gives in, filling the inch between us to kiss me, losing his air supply when he does. He springs back and shoots through the surface. I closely follow behind, laughing as he coughs up the water he swallowed.

"You did not just fucking cheat again!" he exclaims, his coughs turning into laughs.

"Nope, never!" I smile, fixing the strap of my top.

He wades over. "You know," he says, moving aside the wet strands of hair from my face, "before tonight, I never would've pegged you for someone who's so good at playing dirty."

I rest my cheek in his palm. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to underestimate your opponent?"

"Got me there, DeMarco," he sighs, leaning in. "I'll never underestimate you again."

I taste the chlorine on his lips as soon as he kisses me, smelling it embedded in our skin. I hold onto the collar of his drenched shirt. His hand squeezes the nape of my neck before he slides lower, his palm following the curve of my spine. I part from him with a breath when he finds my hips underwater. Lifting me, dragging me closer, sparking a fire in my depths.

My legs automatically wrap around him, arms doing the same around his neck. Our mouths meet again, and I finally sink my fingers into those black coffee curls, my other hand tracing over prickles on his jaw.

I wonder when last he shaved. It's not noticeable from a distance, and feeling that stubble gives me a strange sense of exclusivity. Like, you wouldn't know this about Nate Miller unless you kissed him. You wouldn't know that his jaw is rough and his lips are soft and his throat vibrates when you tug on his hair.

It's different than it was on the beach. His tongue has coaxed mine to his, our control plummeting as they thrust against each other in growing wildness. Deep and urgent and consuming. My hips roll against him and he makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl, and that makes me grip his hair even harder.

I imagine the water starting to boil around us, bubbles popping and warping the reflection of the twinkle lights. Nate pulls his lips from mine, moving them along my jaw, kissing and flicking my skin before I feel his teeth graze my earlobe. He lightly bites down and triggers a ripple so strong it could create waves in this pool.

"You wanna go inside and find a room?" he murmurs into my ear, voice ragged. "Get out of these wet clothes?"

He draws away, breathing slowly. Deliberately. I think he's more flushed than I am. His hands are settled in the back pockets of my jeans, his eyes drifting to my collarbone, to the sticking fabric of my top. His pupils are so dilated it's hard to see the green.

I mirror his relaxed smile, but my insides are squirming up a storm. He's watching me close, waiting for me to tell him what I want. Giving me the power to end this or take it one step further.

"No." I hold his dark gaze. "We can go to the pool house."

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