“Let me know if this makes you uncomfortable,” she says to Mia, gesturing to her naked chest. “I don't like tan lines, but I can cover up if you prefer.”
Mia stares straight ahead, seemingly unfazed by Tatianna's display. “I'm not uncomfortable.” Mia removes her own tank top from over her head, and I swear I see the whole thing in slow motion to the beat of hypnotic music. I am mesmerized. Mia has nothing to be ashamed of. Her chest is on the large side and is barely contained by the cups of her purple bikini top. If she wanted to follow suit and take off her top, there is no way my erection would go unnoticed. I already feel my cock stirring in my shorts, and I have to distract myself with gathering drinks.
I look down at my dick and curse at him. “Not today, fucker,” I say under my breath while arranging cups with ice.
“What was that?” Mia asks, coming over to join me.
“Nothing,” I bite out. “What would you like to drink?”
“Do you have lemonade?”
“Sure do.”
Breasts are one of the few areas where Tatianna hasn’t been blessed, however, that doesn’t mean I'm free to gawk at Mia's glorious, round tits. But dear God, it's like Christmas. I can't seem to keep my eyes from straying over to her chest. The soft mounds are pushed together thanks to the straining fabric, and her cleavage is plentiful. I want to bury my face between them and treat them to wet kisses. Mia in a bathing suit is holy hell, hot. I'm used to Tatianna's model-thin body with her lack of curves, and visible rib cage. Mia has soft rounded flesh that I want to sink my teeth into. I can't stop staring, and I'm hoping the heated gazes I'm sending her aren't obvious.
“Collins?” Tatianna asks, pulling my attention away.
“Yeah?” My voice comes out tense and too rough. I clear my throat and try again.
“Can I have sparkling mineral water with a slice of cucumber?” she asks.
“Of course.” I head to the kitchen to retrieve a cucumber, thankful for the moment away from Mia. I have no idea why she's affecting me this way, but I know I need to get my head on straight.
We settle in for some sunbathing, but after an hour of sitting quietly in the sun, Mia declares herself officially bored and wanders off in search of something to entertain herself.
There are books and board games in a cabinet inside, and I expect her to return with one of those, but when she makes her way back on deck fifteen minutes later, she's carrying several foam noodles and one of the crew members—James, I think—is attaching a giant inflatable slide I didn't even know I had over the side of the boat.
“I hope you don't mind, but I asked the captain if we could stop to swim,” Mia says.
“Swim?” Tatianna and I both ask in unison. Tatianna sits up and watches as the slide is attached.
“Yeah, unless you're chicken,” Mia taunts, waving one of the noodles at me.
I rise and remove my sunglasses. “I'm game.” I can only sit in the sun for so long. Typically after an hour or so, I head inside and check my email while Tatianna continues sunning herself to a deep bronzed glow.
“Are you seriously going to go down that thing?” Tatianna asks, eyeing the slide with disdain.
“Sure, why not?” I shrug.
“I'm not getting in that freezing cold water,” Tatianna says, laying down again. “You two have fun.” She lifts the fashion magazine she was reading back in front of her face.
When I get close, Mia spanks me across the ass with a noodle. An unexpected laugh falls from my lips. There is something so playful and whimsical about her personality. She can still make me forget myself and just let go, despite our years apart. She's always possessed that skill. It was most helpful right after my mom passed away. I needed that levity more than ever, and Mia provided it. And I suppose now is no different. I like that she doesn't act her age.
“Come on. I'll let you go first down the slide,” she says.
“Let me, huh?” I lift one eyebrow. I pick her up and set her down on the top of the slide. It doesn’t escape my notice that she's removed the shorts she'd been wearing all afternoon. Her bikini bottoms don't match the top. They're lime green. And the rounded curve of her ass cheeks peeking from the bottom is highly distracting. “Down you go.” I place my hands on her shoulders and give her a playful push while still holding her securely.
“You wouldn't.” She glares at me while her mouth is curved up into a crooked grin.
“Maybe I'm not as nice as the guy you remember.”
“You're perfect,” she says, her face going serious for a moment.
She can't say things like that. It's confusing as shit. The conversation I had with Colton last night spins in my brain. He was convinced that I've been in love Mia since I was a kid.
“Collins?” she asks, her face still holding its serious expression.
“Plug your nose,” I tell her and give her a shove.
Mia goes barreling down the slide toward the ocean and just before I hear the splash, she lets out a playful squeal.
We take turns heaving ourselves down the inflatable slide—on our backs, bellies and sides. We hit the water with force and laughter, swimming—or in her case, dog-paddling—over to the ladder to climb back on board and repeat it again and again. It's like I've been transported back to a simpler time. I feel like I'm six years old again without a care in the world. We're both shivering and the salt-water stings our eyes, but our smiles refuse to fade. I've never had so much fun yachting. Tatianna glances up at us occasionally, but when I encourage her to join us, she turns over in her chair, saying she needs to sun her back.
“Last one in the water's a rotten egg!” Mia calls and hits the slide at a run—flinging herself down on her stomach. I hear a splash at the bottom and then nothing else. She usually comes up laughing. My stomach drops.
“Mia?” I peer over the side of the boat.
She's there, treading water, but with a worried expression. Shit. She probably hurt herself going over like that.
I grab a noodle and go barreling down the slide toward her. I hit the water and swim to the surface, pulling in a breath and immediately swimming hard toward her. She's facing away from me, a few feet away. “Mia? What happened? Are you okay?”
“Don't come over here,” she warns.
What the hell? “Mia?”
“I'm serious, Collins.”
She's not the strongest swimmer, and when I see her head dip under the water, I wrap her in my arms and pull her up, securing the noodle around her. “Come here. I've got you.”