Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Oh, my goodness, this hunky marvel is my boyfriend.
I can barely stop myself from squealing into a tap dance.
“We will go out on this jet ski, Darla. I will not let anything happen to you.”
“I know, Moby,” I whisper, kissing his chin.
Again, he rumbles, but this time, the sound is a little more breathless. “I love your kisses, little human,” he says, adjusting the growing bulge beneath his towel. “But please wait until we’re somewhere I can mate you before you give them to me.”
I’m beaming, I can’t help it. “Sorry.”
He scans the packed beach, then looks down at my body. I’ve dressed in my yellow bikini and short, white sarong for our day out, and his heated gaze tells me he likes my outfit very much, but he likes what is beneath even better. “Here is definitely not a good spot to mate?”
“Definitely not,” I giggle, pulling him toward the rental hut. “Come on.”
He makes an anguished sound but allows himself to be dragged to the hut. I tell the resort employees my room number and set about securing the rental for the afternoon, although the water sports attendant keeps one fearful eye on Moby the entire time.
“You need a j-j-jet ski that will fit him?” asks the man.
“She needs one that will fit both of us,” Moby corrects him in a no-nonsense tone. “She will not leave my arms.”
“Yes, sir,” the attendance winces.
Probably because Moby’s tone of voice is the kind usually reserved for death threats. I squeeze my boyfriend’s hand and smile up at him, coaxing a lopsided grin from his handsome face, and the attendant breathes a sigh of relief. Twenty minutes later, we are standing at the edge of the water beside a row of jet skis.
“Wait here,” instructs the resort employee. “I will ask my colleagues to assist me in pushing the jet ski into the water—”
“No need,” Moby says, stooping down to grip the back of the machine, dragging it toward the water like it weighs five pounds. Tossing it out among the whitewash. “Come, little human,” he calls over his hefty shoulder.
Feeling free and giddy, I ignore the twinges in my leg and jog to join Moby. He plucks me up by the waist and deposits me on the smooth, warm leather seat, before throwing his leg over the back and climbing on behind me. The machine sinks ominously into the water, and I get nervous that we’ll have to forgo our ride, but somehow the thing stays afloat.
I turn the key and press the ignition button, explaining to Moby how the controls work, in addition to our earlier tutorial from the staff.
“Should I drive for a while, then you can take over, if you want?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Yes,” he says, securing me to his chest with an arm of steel. His expression is deadly serious. “I will watch for threats.”
“There probably won’t be any. My accident was an unusual occurrence.”
He massages my leg with his free hand. “Still.”
For the hundredth time in an hour, I feel this sweeping sense of belonging and joy, and it causes me to blurt his name. “Moby?”
“Yes?”
“You make me very happy.”
His heart thumps heavily against my back, a telltale reaction. With a gruff clearing of his throat, he squeezes me tighter and lays a hard, prolonged kiss on the crown of my head. “You are my happiness, Darla.”
My pulse is racing as we leave the shore, galloping over waves until we’re away from the immediate resort area. My fear takes hold when we pass another group of guests on the backs of their own jet skis, but Moby murmurs assurances into my hair, and the tension uncoils again in my middle once we’re isolated again on the water. “Right about here is where I had my accident,” I confide in Moby. “There was blood…everywhere. I was so worried a shark would come eat me, before help arrived.”
A violent shiver passes through him, shaking the both of us.
“Sharks,” he sighs. “What a bunch of assholes.”
I twist around with piqued interest. “Really?”
“Oh, yes.” He sounds quite sage. “Always needing to be the center of attention. Their behavior is exhausting. We get it, you have sharp teeth. We’re all impressed. Now, fuck off.”
My throat hurts from trying to hold in my laughter. “What about dolphins?”
He shakes his head. “Meddlers. Always up in everyone else’s business.”
“Wow. Are there any sea creatures that you like?”
“I guess I don’t mind the turtles.”
“Aww.” As we’re sitting stationary on the lapping blue water, the ocean is so vast around us, and how lucky am I to have Moby’s first-hand perspective. “If you were to stay on land, permanently…” I trail off with a small frown when his muscles leap. “Would you miss the ocean?”
Moby thinks for a moment. “I suppose I would miss the familiar things. My family. The muffled quiet, the life cycles that are as old as time. The embrace of the various currents.” I hear him swallow hard. “But if I returned to the ocean, my despair over being without you, Darla, would turn everything stale and dark. I would just sink down to the bottom and hope hell swallowed me.”