Chapter 1: Skinny Dip Confessions
The champagne was going straight to her head, a pleasant fizz in her veins that muted the usual constant hum of her thoughts. Kate leaned back on her elbows, digging her fingers into the sand that still held the day’s warmth. The moon painted a silver road across the black water.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Liam said, his voice a low rumble beside her.
She glanced at him. He was already looking at her, his profile sharp in the moonlight, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’m not thinking at all. It’s a medical anomaly. You should be concerned.”
He laughed, a short, genuine sound that was swallowed by the shush of the waves. “Right. You’re probably mentally drafting a brief against the seagull that stole a chip earlier.”
“It was a flagrant violation of personal property. I have witnesses.” She smiled, taking another sip from the plastic flute. It was cheap stuff, but it tasted like freedom tonight. Like a night where she wasn’t Kate Thompson, junior partner, but just Kate, on a beach, with him.
He stood up in one fluid motion, brushing sand from his jeans. He offered her his hand. “C’mon.”
“Where?”
“The ocean’s right there. It’s rude to ignore it.”
She looked at the dark, shifting water. “It’s midnight. It’ll be freezing.”
“It’s August. It’s barely chilly. Live a little, Thompson.” His hand was still extended, a challenge in his blue eyes. That was the thing about Liam. He made recklessness feel like the most logical choice in the world.
The champagne buzzed its agreement. She let her fingers slide into his, his grip warm and sure as he pulled her to her feet. Her heels were abandoned somewhere by the blanket, and the cool, fine sand shifted between her toes. He didn’t let go of her hand, leading her toward the water’s edge.
The first wave washed over her feet, shockingly cold. She gasped, a laugh catching in her throat. “You liar. It’s arctic.”
“Just takes a second,” he said, his voice dropping as they waded in deeper. The water soaked the hem of her trousers, heavy and cold. Her silk blouse clung to her skin. It was madness. This was a dry-clean-only blouse.
They were up to their waists now, the black water rocking them, the lights from the distant house just pinpricks. The world had shrunk to this sound, this feeling, him.
His free hand came up, not to her face, but to the back of her head. His fingers worked deftly, pulling the pin from the tight, professional bun she’d worn all day. Her hair, longer than anyone at the office knew, tumbled down, damp at the ends from the spray.
She should have said something. Made a joke. But her breath hitched and stuck in her throat.
His fingers trailed down the length of her hair, then skimmed her shoulder, her arm, until his hand settled on her waist. Her blouse was soaked, transparent, and his touch felt like it was on her bare skin. The chill of the water vanished, replaced by a heat that started where his hand was and spread outwards.
“See?” he murmured, his face so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. “Not thinking now, are you?”
She wasn’t. Her mind was blissfully, terrifyingly empty of everything but the sensation of his thumb making slow, deliberate circles on her hip bone. The waves pushed her against him, a gentle, persistent rhythm. With each rock, less space remained between them.
His other hand came up to cradle her jaw, his touch surprisingly tentative. The pad of his thumb brushed her lower lip. She could feel the rapid, heavy thud of his heart where her hand had come to rest on his chest, or maybe it was her own.
This was the precipice. The carefully maintained line between friendship and everything else. She saw the question in his eyes, the same reckless hope that was currently setting her nerve endings on fire.
A sudden, harsh beam of light cut across the water, followed by the aggressive roar of an engine tearing down the nearby access road. Tires spat gravel.
The spell shattered.
Liam’s head snapped toward the sound, his body tensing. The intimacy evaporated, replaced by a sharp, alert tension. The light swept over them for a blinding second, illuminating the stark concern on his face before moving on.
He looked back at her, the moment broken, the air now charged with something else entirely. “That’s my brother’s truck,” he said, his voice tight. “Something’s wrong.”