Chapter Twenty-Seven

Arlie hikes to the top with me perched on his back just as he said he would. When we reach the peak of the mountain, my jaw drops, and my eyes bulge from their sockets. The view is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.

Trees that line the shore as small as ants. The ocean is smaller than the mass number of hills surrounding it.

“It’s definitely a boob.” Arlie laughs as I slide down his back, my feet again back on land. “Nipple and all. How about that?” He points to our right where the boob that once appeared the size of a B-cup is now as large as a D-cup.

“Too funny.”

“I wonder where the nose is?”

I scan the rock faces and spot it to our left. I point in its direction. “There.”

There is a lot of shrubbery in the fissures that make up the rock formation’s nostrils.

“Nose hair,” we blurt out simultaneously in laughter.

Crack, crack, crack.

I flick my head to my right. Did a branch just break? A man wearing a bright red baseball cap appears from the bushes like a peeping Tom, holding a big video camera.

The television show. I forgot again. How do I keep forgetting I’m here being filmed?

“Do you want to race me to the bottom?” Arlie wiggles his eyebrows.

“No! No, I don’t.” Is Arlie insane?

“Come on.” Arlie points at the cameraman, who has obviously been following us. “It’ll be fun.”

“Only if you carry me.”

Arlie’s eyebrows lift high on his forehead. “Nope.”

I half-heartedly laugh. “Spoilsport.”

“Ready?”

“Nope.”

***

We return to the path in front of the house. I’m hot, sweaty, and still laughing from the tumble I took as I attempted to run down the side of the mountain. My knee has a graze, but other than that, I’m unscathed. Running down the hill of death was satisfying, even if it was exhausting.

“A swim?” Arlie puffs as he folds at his midsection with his hands braced against his knees.

“Yes! Oh, God, yes. I’m melting.”

“It’ll have to be in your underwear because I’m not running back to the house to get you bathers unless you are?”

“No. I’m too stuffed.”

Arlie throws the backpack on the ground. He kicks off his shoes, I follow suit, and suddenly, he grabs my hand; without warning, we’re running again.

When we reach the fine sand, I hop from foot to foot. The sand is hot beneath my feet. I continue to hop, skip, and jump on the spot as the sun shines in my eyes, causing me to twist away from its blinding rays.

Arlie, too, is shifting from foot to foot in front of me as he rips his sweat-drenched shirt over his head. It takes not a second for him to drop his pants also.

Arlie’s naked—stark naked. His arms are the size of tree trunks. His legs … well, he doesn’t skip leg day, that’s for sure. They’re huge.

“Shit, I’m hot,” he groans.

He is hot, but it’s not his body temperature I’m referring to. The sun is blistering, burning, and my own body is overheated to the point where I feel as though I’m in a sauna.

“Are you coming?” Arlie’s arse doesn’t jiggle when he walks towards the calm ocean that barely contains ripples. “Are you coming?” he calls out a little farther down the beach.

I am. In my knickers, because Arlie Blight has me on the verge of an orgasm just from the way he moves in his birthday suit down a long, white sandy beach.

Happy birthday to me. “Coming,” I moan, frustrated.

Arlie’s laughing by the time he reaches the edge of the water, and with his laughter, I hesitate for a moment before I impulsively decide to shed my panties too. Crossing my arms across my bust, I take off. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Running naked down a beach where cameras are filming. It’s so wrong yet liberating at the same time. The faster I reach the water, the less my feet burn and the less time I’m naked in public. I run into the ocean, and make sure to keep a distance between Arlie and me.

The water is crystal clear, though, so the ocean offers no protection to my nakedness. Arlie must have the same realisation because when I flash my sight upwards, I see him staring at the water below. I know he’s looking at my body, and he's not discreet at all.

I watch Arlie watching me. An overwhelming rush of hormones shoot down my throat and to my nether region. I bring my thighs together swiftly. Arlie’s lips curl upwards.

I pant. I can’t help it. I want him so badly the throbbing between my legs intensifies.

Arlie takes three steps towards me. My breath catches in my throat.

“Melinda,” he says my name with a possessive growl.

“Hmm?”

“I want to kiss you.” His arm sweeps around my waist. He pulls my body against his chest. “I fucking want to kiss you so bad.” His lips are less than an inch from mine.

I curl my arms around his neck. I press my breasts firmer against his chest.

“Kiss me,” I beg.

His lips are soft, full, and comforting when they press to mine. Every inch of my skin ignites with a desire I’ve never felt before. Arlie lifts me, and I instantly wrap my legs around his waist. His erection pulses against me. His mouth devours mine like he’s saying goodbye and he’ll never get to kiss me again.

I can’t sleep with him. I want to sleep with him. I need to get out of the water.

Our lips part. “Don’t run,” Arlie rushes in saying as he presses his forehead against mine.

“I can’t …”

“I’m not going to fuck you here. I just want you to let your muscles relax and be with me. I want you to trust me.”

“Okay.” It’s almost inaudible.

“Be with me. Promise that you won’t run.” He lifts his head. His gaze finds mine. “Be with me,” he repeats, tipping his head to the side and kissing my neck. He lifts me higher and kisses the fullness of my breast.

“I’m with you,” I moan, clutching either side of his head and bringing his lips to mine.

We make love in that ocean. Not love in its physical state, but in a way that speaks of an intense connection between two people unable to be fully controlled. I’ve fallen hard for Arlie Blight, so hard I fear I’ll never be able to run away from him even if I want to.