Chapter 117: Reid
When I finally look again—after wrestling every dark, reckless impulse back down where it belongs—I see Jake’s fists.
White-knuckled. Tight as stone.
It makes me smirk, because fuck, it’s hitting him just as hard. He’s fighting the same beast I am, sitting here trying not to tear the world apart for one woman in a mint-green swimsuit.
If we hate Liam and Finn for staring, we can’t exactly blame them. Not when every inch of her looks like a sin sculpted out of sunlight.
Then she sighs and says, “I’m hungry,” stretching her arms over her head. The movement makes my pulse stutter. “And it’s all Charlie’s fault for bringing just watermelon and taffy.”
Jake, ever the hero, grabs his backpack from behind him. “Here,” he says. He pulls out a couple of containers—one with brownies, another with chopped carrots, celery, and cucumber—and sets them down between us.
Her eyes light up, pure gratitude and curiosity all at once. “Yum! You sure I can have some?”
“Yes,” Jake says, voice low, patient.
She picks out a carrot stick first, munches it in silence, polite and careful. We take a few, too, like we’re pretending we’re all just normal coworkers sharing a snack and not two men in quiet agony watching her lips close around every bite.
Then she picks up a brownie.
The second she tastes it, she moans—a soft, unintentional sound that nearly kills both of us. Jake’s jaw locks, his eyes shut for half a second, and I feel my own control fray like a wire about to snap.
Her cheeks flush as she swallows and stares between us. “Wait—did you make these?!”
I grin, can’t help it. “Yeah. You thought we were helpless in a kitchen?”
She blushes harder, fumbling for words. “No, it’s not that, it’s just—”
There’s a crumb on her lower lip. I don’t even think before reaching out and brushing it away with my thumb.
Her breath catches. Mine does too.
“I’m kidding,” I say softly.
But my voice gives me away.
And she knows. She knows.
Because her eyes flick up to mine for one unbearable second—wide, trembling, hungry—and I can feel the air between us thicken until even the sound of the waves can’t cut through it.
Surely the universe has a sick, twisted sense of humor.
Because right then, Finn’s voice cuts through the heavy quiet like a match striking. “Hey, Madeline?”
Her head jerks up, strands of hair sticking to her shoulders, eyes bright from the sun. “Yeah?”
I turn just in time to see Finn—dripping wet, saltwater running in rivulets down his chest—standing there with that shit-eating grin that means trouble. He’s glistening, smug, and he winks at us before saying a damn word.
And right then, I know.
I know exactly what he’s about to do.
He says, all casual, “Can you hand me something from my bag? Don’t wanna drip on my stuff.”
Jake doesn’t move. I don’t either.
Madeline, sweet, trusting, utterly unaware, nods and sets the brownie down beside her. She wipes her fingers delicately, then gets up and walks toward him, her hair swaying down her back. She doesn’t even notice Finn shifting his stance, adjusting his footing in the sand, timing her approach like a predator.
And then—
“Got ya,” he says.
In one smooth motion, she’s airborne, shrieking, her legs kicking as he throws her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing.
“Finn! You big idiot! PUT ME DOWN!” she yells, her fists thudding uselessly against his back. “I swear to God, I’ll waterboard you in your sleep!”
Her voice is fierce, but there’s laughter in it—bright, breathless. The sound crawls down my spine like static.
From the water, Liam screams, “YEAHHH, he got her!”
Charlie’s laughing so hard she nearly falls into the surf. “Reid and Jake, you’re next!”
We both chuckle under our breath, because sure. It would take all four of them to drag one of us into the water—and even then, we’d take them all down with us.
But the truth is, I’m not feeling like laughing anymore.
Everywhere Finn touches her, there’s skin on skin. Her bare stomach over his shoulder. His forearm pressed tight across the back of her ass. His hand gripping her thigh. Her small, frantic fists beating against his shoulder blades. The sight burns through me, low and dangerous, something primal I can’t put words to.
Harmless fun. I can’t blow up over harmless fun. Doesn’t change the fact I hate the sight of Finn’s bare chest against her bare skin.
I drag in a breath, let it out between my teeth, and watch as he wades toward the water, the surf licking higher around his calves.
“Finn,” Jake calls, voice even but edged. “Just be caref—”
Finn flashes us a grin over his shoulder. “You ready?” he teases Madeline.
She’s still spitting venom. “I will tell every sea creature out there to come bite you! Every shark, every crab, every—”
She doesn’t finish.
Because Finn launches her straight into the waves.
She hits the water with a splash that makes Jake wince. “Fuck,” he mutters, half-standing. “Finn, come on—that was a little hard.”
I’m already halfway up too, heartbeat thudding.
Then—silence.
The surface ripples once. Twice. No Madeline. Even Finn looks like he's getting worried.
Until the water erupts.
She shoots up like a torpedo, laughter breaking free as she lunges at him. She gets both hands on his shoulders and shoves, sending him under. He splutters and thrashes as she straddles him long enough to dunk his head again.
When he finally breaks free, gasping, she’s grinning down at him, wild and radiant. “Now the whole ocean is mad at you,” she declares. “You better watch out!”
The beach explodes in laughter. Liam’s bent double, Charlie’s choking on air, even Sloane's up to watch behind her sunglasses. Finn’s wheezing, still trying to talk through his laughter.
And me?
I can’t stop watching her.
Water runs down her throat, over her shoulders, the curve of her collarbone. Her skin is flushed and glowing. She’s fierce and alive and more stunning than anything I’ve ever seen.