Saltwater Confessions

Veronica's POV:

"Max—wait!" The word escaped my lips before I even knew what I was doing. He had already walked several steps down the wooden deck toward the private beach, surfboard tucked under one arm.

He turned slightly at the sound of my voice.

And I was frozen like a statue.

Max stood there in nothing but black boxers, the morning sun catching on his beautiful inky black tattoos on his torso. His black hair was pushed back messily, damp from saltwater or sweat, and his body glistened with a thin sheen that made every defined muscle stand out, making him look like a Greek god carved out of a sculpture.

Looking at him, my heart didn't just skip a beat. It somersaulted, and tripped over itself, forgetting how to function entirely.

"Max… I—" I swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how ridiculous I sounded. "I didn't really mean to—"

Before I could finish, he stepped close... so close the scent of salt and warm skin filled my lungs—and gently placed a finger on my lips.

I froze, despite