Free Stranded With a Billionaire by Jessica Clare Page B

way. Even if he thought she was a crazy woman, the sun felt warm on her skin, and she was going to enjoy the ocean for today at least. She headed into the surf up to her knees and reached down for a handful of water. It felt colder than she’d thought it would be, and she shivered a little, rubbing her arms.
    Something splashed past her. Brontë froze in place, then glanced over just in time to see a pair of white buttocks disappear into the water as Logan made a shallow dive into the surf in a short distance away.
    Damn it! He’d been naked, and she’d missed it? She resisted the urge to slap the water in frustration, moving deeper and then sinking into the water to cover her own nudity. He’d accepted her challenge, though. That was a good thing, though she had no idea what to do now that he had.
Flirting really should not be this hard, Brontë
, she told herself.
    Logan surfaced a short distance away, flung his wet hair back, and then stood in the water. She noticed the surf went only to his waist. Correction—more like his hips. Low, low on his hips, his privates barely covered by the ripples of the waves.
    Her cheeks heated as she couldn’t help but look over at him. Okay, the man definitely had a good body. He was toned and fit all over, his body slightly tanned as if he enjoyed the sun, but not too much. There was a tattoo of something on his biceps that she couldn’t make out from this distance. He didn’t seem like the type to get inked. He was a serious, almost stern sort of man, not a party boy who would get a tat when he was out with his buddies.
    Intriguing. That didn’t fit the picture she had in her mind of Logan Hawkings, responsible manager. He’d seemed a little stuffier in her mind, but that tattoo added a new angle. She wasn’t quite sure who he was, and she liked that.
    Brontë moved out a bit farther in the water, feeling extremely exposed without even a swimsuit on. The water brushed against her skin with gentle, silky caresses, and the sunlight touched her everywhere. It was a unique experience, this skinny-dipping thing. She wasn’t entirely sure she liked it, though she’d gotten to see Logan’s ass, so that was a plus.
    His gaze swung to her, and he began to move slowly toward her through the water. Brontë forced herself to hold her ground, instead of shying away like a nervous virgin. “Well, you’re definitely not a man who can resist a challenge,” she told him.
    Logan grinned in her direction, and she sucked in a breath. The man was sexy when he was stern, but when he smiled? God. She could have sworn her girl parts had just given a squeal of delight in response.
    He didn’t stop until he was right next to her. It was still only waist-deep, and if she stayed crouched down, she’d be more or less at eye level with his cock. Not exactly a power position. Of course, standing meant she’d show him her breasts, but hadn’t he already seen them when she’d stripped down on the beach?
    Brontë steeled her courage and got to her feet, water cascading off of her body. She gave him a challenging look as if daring him to say something.
    But he didn’t. He only stepped closer, his somber gaze intent on her face. He reached out to her, cupped the side of her neck, and she felt him subtly draw her toward him. She was helpless to pull away, fascinated by those dark eyes, and when the tips of her breasts brushed against his bare, wet chest, she gasped.
    “For what it’s worth,” he said in a low, husky voice, “My suggestion was going to be that we swim in our underwear.”
    “Oh,” she said weakly, her gaze dropping to the mouth that was mere inches away from her own. “I wasn’t sure—”
    His mouth lowered on hers. She hadn’t expected to be kissed with such blatant intensity. He pulled her against him, his wet flesh brushing against hers, and she felt the long heat of his cock against her belly even as they kissed, letting her know exactly what he thought of the situation.