*Isabella's POV *
After the cake was cut and Jacob managed to escape a few more interviews, we finally made a break for it. I grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the thumping bass and the fake laughter, towards the quieter end of the beach where the only sounds were the crashing of the waves and our own footsteps in the sand.
"I can finally hear the waves," he said with a low chuckle, his arm wrapping around my waist as we walked.
"You're such a dork," I laughed, leaning my head against his shoulder. The air was cooler here, smelling of salt and freedom.
Shhh, listen," he said, stopping us. He turned me to face the ocean, his hands on my shoulders. And I did. For a moment, I just listened to the rhythmic crash and pull of the water, a sound that made all our drama feel like small, useless noise.
"It's nice, I guess," I said flatly, my voice barely a whisper.
He turned me back to him, his eyes soft in the moonlight. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" he asked, and I was surprised to hear a slight nervousness in his voice, a vulnerability he rarely showed.
A slow, sly smirk spread across my face. "Come to think of it, you haven't," I teased. "You were too busy groping me to notice."
He laughed making my stomach flutter. "Exactly. You look so fucking gorgeous, Isabella, I can't even keep my hands off you." He leaned in, but I turned my head back towards the water, my cheeks heating up. His compliments, when they were real like this, were a lot harder to handle than his teasing.
That's when I saw them. Two sleek, dark shapes cutting across the moonlit water, leaving white trails in their wake. "What's that?" I asked, pointing.
"Looks like jet skis," he said, his voice full of a quiet pride.
My eyes widened. "Isn't this a private beach? Who the fuck would put them there?" I asked, my logical brain trying to make sense of it.
"It is," he said, his arm tightening around me. "And I did."
My jaw almost hit the sand. "They're yours?!" I exclaimed. Of course, they were. Everything had to be.
He just smiled at my shock. "Will you... uhm... are we..." I started, my voice stuttering as I tried to ask a question I didn't even know how to phrase.
"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked gently, his thumb stroking my arm, sensing my hesitation.
I took a deep breath, turning back to the vast, dark ocean. "I've never driven one before," I admitted, my voice quiet. "I always wanted to, but... maybe another time." I couldn't look at him. I couldn't let him see the fear in my eyes, the vulnerability of wanting something so fast and powerful.
"We don't have time," I added quickly, deciding to just shut it down, to just enjoy this moment with him on this quiet beach, before the real world came crashing back in. But the thought of it, of us on one of those jet skis, cutting across the water at a terrifying, exhilarating speed... it stayed with me.
"Let's go now," he said, his voice a low, excited rumble against my ear.
I pulled back, looking at him like he'd just suggested we go skinny-dipping with sharks. "What? Right now? At night? Isn't that fucking illegal?" I asked, my voice a little higher than I wanted it to be. The idea was insane. The moon was out, yes, but it was dark. The ocean was a big, dark, scary thing.
He just laughed, a deep, carefree sound that was so Jacob. He looked at me with a knowing, infuriating smirk that said he knew exactly what he was doing and he knew I'd eventually give in. "Relax, doll, after you," he said, gesturing with his head towards the sleek, dark shapes of the jet skis resting on the sand.
"I'm not riding a jet ski at night," I said, planting my feet firmer in the sand as if that could stop the crazy train we were apparently getting on. "What if something bad happens? Like, we flip it upside down, and we drown?" I asked, a genuine thread of worry weaving through my sarcasm.
"That's never gonna happen," he said, his voice full of a rock-solid confidence that was both reassuring and, frankly, a little annoying.
"It happens! I've seen it on tv," I retorted, my hands on my hips.
"Not if it's running, and not when I'm the one driving it," he said with his usual, unshakeable arrogance. He was so sure of himself, it was almost laughable. Almost.
"Come on, sweets," he said, his tone shifting back to that playful, persuasive charm. He took my hand, his fingers lacing with mine, and started pulling me towards the jet skis, towards the unknown and the thrillingly dangerous.
"Maybe... tomorrow," I said, my voice small, pulling back slightly. My heart was hammering against my ribs, a mix of fear and a stupid, exhilarating excitement.
He stopped and turned to me, the moonlight catching in his eyes, making them glow. "Life isn't about tomorrow, Isabella," he said, his voice suddenly serious, intense. "Now let me fetch us some vests." And with that, he was pulling me along again, and I let him, because arguing with Jacob Lancaster when he had that look in his eye was a battle I knew I'd never win.
He helped me climb onto one of the jet skis, my hands gripping the handlebars so tightly my knuckles were white. Then he climbed on behind me, his chest a firm, warm wall against my back, his arms caging me in as he reached for the controls.
"Okay," I whispered, more to myself than to him.
And then he started driving.
The first jolt forward sent a spray of cold water into my face, making me gasp. My heartbeat went into immediate overdrive. We were moving fast, so fucking fast, slicing through the dark water with only the moon to guide us. The world was a blur of dark waves and silver moonlight on the water's surface.
But then, the adrenaline kicked in. The fear started to change into something else, a dizzying, thrilling trance. The wind whipped my hair across my face, and the speed, which had been terrifying moments before, started to feel like freedom.
For some reason, Jacob always managed to sweep me off my feet, to make me forget my own name with everything he does. I leaned back into him, feeling more playful and daring, my grip on the handlebars loosening slightly.
He'd sneak in a quick peck on my cheek, his lips warm against my cold, wet skin, before focusing back on the path ahead. Fuck. The man was a menace. I was completely and utterly at his mercy, and as we carved a path through the moonlit ocean, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Not far from the shore, he cut the engine, and the sudden, echoing silence was more unnerving than the roar had been. The jet ski bobbed gently on the dark, glassy water The only sounds were the soft lapping of waves, wild thumping of my own fucking heart.
"Isn't this dangerous?" I asked, my voice a little too high, a little too thin. "Cause you said..." I was saying, but he cut me off.
He moved so fast I barely registered it, his hands firm on my waist as he pulled me in closer, until there was no space left between us.
"Shh," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice a low, soothing rumble that vibrated right through me. "You're safe with me."
And then he took my lips. It wasn't a frantic, desperate kiss like the ones we'd shared before. It was slow, deep, and impossibly tender under the vast, watchful eye of the moon. It was a kiss that felt like a confession, a silent conversation that said more than words ever could.
This man, this whirlwind of a man, this bundle of contradictions... one minute he's talking dirty, cornering me shamelessly in the back of a room, and the next he gives me the sweetest, most loving kiss I've ever received. He made me want to try everything this life has to offer, as long as I'm next to him. He made me feel alive and loud and giddy inside, a feeling so potent it was almost terrifying. My stomach does a fucking backflip each time he's close, like right now.
I leaned into him, parting my lips to deepen the kiss, wanting more, needing more of this strange, beautiful feeling. But he had other plans. He grabbed me by the hips, turning me around with a swift, practiced motion that left me breathless, and pulled me down onto his lap.
I let myself melt into him, taking in all his warmth, my head resting in the crook of his neck, my body fitting against his like we were made for this.
He broke the kiss, but he didn't pull away. He just rested his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. And then he whispered, the words so soft I almost thought I imagined them.
"I love you, Isabella."