Brothers of Paradise Series

“Not trying to.”

Something warms in my chest, and it’s not just the sunlight or the waves beneath us, even though it’s a rocking I’ve missed. Give me a good boat rather than an airplane any day of the week. If I have to die, let it be by ocean rather than sky.

“Will I ever find out what’s between your rift with your dad?”

I close my eyes. “Get me drunk enough tonight and you might.”

She groans. “Rhys.”

“I can’t be serious for more than a second,” I say. “Not my fault. It’s probably programmed into my genes.”

“Why is the boat called the Frida?”

“You’re full of questions today.” I open my eyes to see her sitting by the edge of the railing, folding herself down so her legs can rest over the edge.

She grins at me. “I’ve always been full of questions,” she tells me. “I’m just not afraid of asking them anymore.”

I raise an eyebrow. “While you’re on a boat alone with me? Unwise.”

“I’ve never claimed to be wise in relation to you.”

“I don’t know why the boat is named Frida. My father named her decades ago, and none of us have ever figured out why.”

“Your grandma?”

“Her name isn’t Frida.”

Ivy looks back out at the sea, her legs dangling over the edge of the sailboat, her hair loose. It falls in golden waves down her back, tousled in the wind.

My hand aches with the absence of a camera. Capturing her here, on the ocean, on this boat, feels like a necessity. I need it like I need air.

But there’s no camera, so I’ll just have to bring her out here again.

“Ivy,” I say, lifting the hem of my shirt.

“Yes?”

“Feel like swimming?”

She turns to look at me, eyes widening as she sees my hands resting on the zipper of my pants. “Sure.”

“Let’s skip the swimsuits.”

Her eyebrows rise. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I spread my arms out. “It’s a beautiful summer day. There is no one here.”

She bites her lip, but doesn’t look away from me as I kick off my shoes. The decision is being made, I can see it in the lightness of her eyes, the way she surrenders to adventure.

Ivy reaches for her own shirt. “I can’t tell if you’re a bad influence,” she says, “or if you’re the best influence.”

“The best,” I say, watching as she undoes the clasp of her bra. She’s magnificent, and my body responds on instinct.

She notices when I kick off my boxers. Her cheeks are the flush of a pale rose, her smile that of the dawn. “I thought you said we were just skinny-dipping.”

I nod to her body, glorious in the sunlight. The sea suits her. “Can’t help it,” I say. “But don’t worry, the water will get rid of it.”

She looks over at the edge of the boat, her thumbs hooked into the edge of her panties. “Is it cold?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Changing your mind?”

She meets my gaze squarely as she pulls off the last stitch of fabric, as she backs toward the edge. One last triumphant glance and then she dives clean off the boat, a nude streak against the deep blue of the ocean.This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

And as I dive off the boat after her, her words come back to me-that I’d always had adventure on my doorstep. Maybe, with her, it can always be one in the future.

After our swim, we lie on the deck of the Frida under the warm summer sun. There’s no need to talk, but words rise to the surface regardless.

“I haven’t had a plan in a very long time,” I murmur, smoothing my hand over her back. “For a long time it was just to do whatever my family didn’t want me to do.”

“That sounds like a general direction at least,” she says, her hand smoothing over my chest. Her voice is drowsy. “You know, a pre-planned rebellion feels like an oxymoron.”

I snort. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

“You love it when you’re challenged.”

“Of course I don’t. Can’t you be a bit more obsequious?”

“Obsequious?”

“Just because I dropped out of college doesn’t mean I’m not well-read.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “That’s a very elitist sentiment of you.”

“I’ve never said anything of the sort.”

“It was in your tone,” I tease.

Ivy glares at me, but there’s laughter hiding in those eyes. I stroke down her back, wanting us to stay like this forever. On an adventure with no beginning and no end, with her the biggest mystery of all.

“I think I would have hated you in school,” she says.

It’s so unexpected that I burst out laughing, until I have to sit up, until I can barely look at her or risk breaking out into guffaws again. “Ives, that might be the truest thing you’ve ever said.”

She has the widest smile on her face. “Imagine how much we would have argued.”

Still chuckling, I tuck her against my side again, right where my body is getting used to her living. “I’d have teased you for all your planning. You would have hated me for my lack of it.”

She curls up against me. “Good thing we met as adults, then.”

“A very good thing indeed,” I say, gripping her close.