Free Wreckless by Bria Quinlan

other direction.
    As fast as I could—afraid I'd lose my nerve as much as I was afraid he'd turn around—I stripped everything off, down to my bra and panties. With my hand on the bra’s clasp, I considered leaving them on. I knew he'd give me a horrible time. But he didn’t even think I’d go that far.
    I thought about the list and my life and the fact that I'd never done anything— anything —worth telling people about one day.
    I had no stories beyond went to school, had a boyfriend, got cheated on . Nothing I had done.
    I reached behind me and undid the hooks of my very plain, very boring white bra, suddenly sad it didn't have little blue embroidered flowers or some other cute underwear thing. It was just your typical white undergarment from JC Penney. Same type I'd been wearing since Mama had driven us over to the mall to get the first one.
    I stood there, watching the back of his head, my bra loose but still held in up front of me. Closing my eyes and hoping for the best, I let it drop to the ground and yanked my panties off. Without letting myself think about it, I sprinted toward the creek, the sharp pebbles bruising my feet before I hit the water at full speed.
    Before Jake could turn around, I dove under, surfacing several feet from him.
    I sucked in a breath, surprised how cutting the air felt against my skin, the water touching me everywhere. My braid was weighed down and half falling over my shoulder. I considered undoing it and trying to use all that hair as some type of shield, but even I knew that was cheating.
    I treaded water, glad to be out past where I could touch the muck-covered bottom.
    Jake pushed through the water to face me and, with one stroke, glided through the night-dark water to hover just in front of me.
    That grin, that trouble-flagging grin, came out. “I didn't think you'd do it. I thought I was out here getting goosebumps for no reason.”
    He was too close—physically—and too overwhelming in general. I was trying to tread water and use my hands to cover my breasts at the same time. It wasn't going so well, and it dawned on me that if I drowned, he would see me naked when he pulled my cold, limp body out of the creek anyway.
    I let my hands slid down and paddle. And then, after just a moment of floating there, it dawned on me.
    I was skinny-dipping.
    Bridget Anja Larson was swimming naked in a farmer’s creek with the hottest guy she'd ever seen under a—thankfully—not quite full moon.
    I pushed away, sending a stream of water toward him as I swam farther out.
    Jake Moore was an enigma. There was nothing about him that didn't scream “dangerous.” From the way he drove, to the attitude he wore like an old, broken-in denim jacket, to that grin…and now the tattoo on that lean cut body.
    And yet, I wasn't worrying.
    “How many girls have you brought here?”
    He made a choking sound as I faced him. “What?”
    “How many girls?”
    He stilled just watching me a moment.
    “One.”
    I found that difficult to believe. He seemed very comfortable knowing where to park the truck to get to the water. But why would he lie about the number being so low? Why would he—
    Oh. Wow.
    “Me?”
    “Oh.” He ran his hand through his hair again and I was already feeling stupid. “I meant you and one other.”
    Yeah. Because I don't count.
    Not that it mattered. There was no way I was going there. He wasn't on the list. Guys like Jake Moore were trouble. That's what the ‘Moore’ was for…more trouble.
    And while I was looking for a little adventure, I wasn’t looking to endanger life and limb. I’d already had my heart bashed in. There was no reason to put other body parts at risk.
    But I was learning. If he was willing to be my guide tonight, I was willing to let him. I was a Rebellion Tourist. Maybe there’d be a t-shirt at the end of the tour.
    I dove under the water, pushing myself through it, amazed at the way it felt so lush flowing over my body without a scrap of bathing