Falling For His Escort [Book #3]

Chapter 13

Next thing I know, I'm taking my clothes off and following Mason into the water.

A shiver runs down my bare back as soon as my feet are submerged in the water. And the deeper I go, the more goosebumps pimple my skin.

I'm cold, standing in nearly five feet of water, high out of my mind, and regretting letting those bright green eyes talk me into such a dumb idea.

Mason has his arms outstretched, gazing out at the ocean as if he were on the Titanic with Leonardo Dicaprio standing behind him.

A laugh escapes me when a wave swoops in and wipes him off his feet. He's shoved under water, breaking the surface and gasping for air only after the tide has passed and the waters have calmed.

He catches me laughing at his misfortune and splashes me with water. I mimic his movements, giggling, as I use my palms to push a small wave of water towards him.

"This is war!" He shouts over the crash of waves running towards us and pushing us to shore every so often.

I'm too busy laughing my ass off to prepare myself for the amount of water that comes down on me like a flood.

I'm sucked under water, seeming to forget how to swim.

I'm surrounded by dark blue water, the water aggressively shoving me around just as another wave joins in on my attempted murder.

I'm starting to panic, my heart beating a mile a minute. This escalated so quickly. One moment we're smoking weed and skinny dipping in the ocean. And the next, I'm drowning.

My arms fail and my legs kick, attempting to put all those training lessons in swim class when I was three to good use.

I lose my breath and swallow a shit ton of salty water.

Great.

This is how I die.

Naked and high.

I wish I could say that sounds cool, but it doesn't. It just sounds plain sad.

Right when I begin to struggle for air, my eyes wide and every part of my being in a panicked state, I feel a pair of strong arms snake around my waist and pull me out of the water.

My vision keeps going in and out, and I'm almost positively certain I'm staring up at the moon and stars.

I lower my head, staring at Mason's chiseled jaw. Setting me down on what feels a lot like a blend of spandex and polyester, I cough and sputter to catch my breath.

I end up throwing up a shit ton of salt water, my hand now on my chest as I feel my heart rapidly beat against my palm.

"Dove."

Hearing how frantic Mason sounds, I turn my head to look at him. His eyes are filled with nothing but worry, the fear of almost losing me erasing the euphoric state he'd been in moments ago.

"Are you okay? What the hell happened out there?"

"I forgot how to swim."

"You forgot how to sw-"

I'm laughing before he can finish his sentence, my body jerking with every painful hiccup that erupts from the depths of my chest.

His brows dip in confusion. "What's so funny? You could have fucking died."

He's pissed.

I shouldn't be laughing, but I can't help it. What else am I supposed to do after almost undergoing a near-death experience?

Mason grabs a hold of my chin, his eyes narrowing as he checks to see if I'm still high.

And I am.

Which explains why I can't seem to stop laughing.

He drops his hand and shakes his head. "You're something else, I swear."

After what feels like eternity, the laughter escaping me finally dies down along with the high. I didn't smoke as much as I would have liked, so I'm a little disappointed when the high diminishes.

"I'm hungry," I murmur, listening to my stomach grumble in protest.

"And cold," he observes, reaching behind me to grab his shirt. "Lift your arms."

I raise both of my arms in the air, allowing Mason to put me in his shirt.
I'm no longer shivering like a wet dog, his muscle shirt surprisingly warm considering it didn't have any sleeves.

His scent floats into my nose and I hum. "You smell good," I note out loud before I can catch myself.

He grins. "Thank you. Now come," he urges, rising to his feet. "Let's put some food in your belly."

The fact that he's still naked doesn't register until my face is inches from his cock threatening to slap me in my face.

A blush paints my face as I quickly stand up and hand him his swim trunks. I turn away from him to grab my own clothes while he gets dressed.

I slip back on my skirt and tie his shirt into a crop top. If he's going to offer me his clothes, then he needs to accept the fact that he might not get it back. Especially because this shirt is damn comfortable.

I start to walk back up the beach, heading towards the crowd of drunk people dancing to an unfamiliar rap song.

Mason makes a quick gallop towards me. "Are we seriously going to act like your high ass didn't almost die?"

"Yup," I reply, popping the p.

"So you don't need a Therapist or anything like that? Because I do know someone you can confide in."

I stop in my tracks, rolling my eyes and huffing in annoyance. "Mason, please. I'm fine. So stop your worrying."

"But-"

I stop him from talking by placing my index finger up to his mouth. His lips are so fucking soft and I have this sudden urge to kiss him.

I swallow, forcing myself to tear my gaze away from his mouth and look him in the eye.

I don't want to ruin what was a fun night by discussing how I forgot how to swim because I was too high to remember. And when I did remember, how I was too late and could have died if it wasn't for Mason.

"I promise, I'm okay."

He nodded his head slowly, focused on the movement of my lips so he could really take in what I was telling him.

"Good," I say, dropping my hand at my side. "Now can we go to your place?"

"Why? What's at my place?"

"Food, I hope."

He smiled. "Actually, I have a better idea."

"What's that look for?" I squinted my eyes at him, not sure whether I liked the way his face lit up.

"Do you trust me?"

"No."

I thought we already established that.

"Well, that's too bad," he said, taking my hand and leading me through the crowd. "Because you're going to have to trust me tonight."

Just when I thought this night couldn't get any more interesting...