When Good Things Happen To Bad Boys

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Adjusting the sail, Dylan Diaz narrowed his eyes as he scanned the horizon. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that brown spot was a head in the water. He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes. It was a head. With hair. Bobbing. Oh my God, he’d found a dead person. With a grimace, he put his water down in the cup holder. Well, nothing like a floating corpse to make him feel even worse for griping. Ungrateful was an understatement. Here he had life by the balls- he was young, strong, healthy, loaded with cash. This person was dead. It couldn’t get much rougher than that. Unless the dead guy’s eyes had been pecked out, too. He shuddered. There was a nasty thought. He’d been hoping for a little excitement, something different, for his birthday. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind. Dylan reached for his radio to call his find into the coast guard, when the head lifted. It was wearing glasses. He scrambled back a foot before letting out a “Yaahhh!” like a kid in a haunted house. Shit, it was alive. Then his momentary shock gave way to relief. Alive was good. Better than dead. Unless the person was injured, which was not so good. “Are you okay? Damn, hang in there! I’ll help you out of the water.” He stood straight up, rocking the boat, and leaned over, reaching out. “Lift your arms, I’ll pull you up.” The head was actually a woman, with chattering teeth and long hair trailing in the water like seaweed, as she stared up at him through water-logged glasses. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he thought she was in shock. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, and Dylan pawed through the water, locking his grip on both of her wrists. He pulled, hard, and she ripped out of the water towards his boat. But in his eagerness to get her to safety, he misjudged the distance. There wasn’t enough room for clearance and her lower half collided with the hull. A soft moan carried to him as he winced. Then pulled again, this time sort of scraping her up the side of the boat before she cleared it. His shoe slipped, he went down on his ass, and she fell right on top of him since he was still holding onto her wrists. There was pain in his shoulder, a whole lot of wet hair slapping him across the chin, and dead weight landing on his lower half. Well, not dead, but damn close, as heavy and limp as she was. All that exhausted female fell right smack on him, her elbow nailing him in the nuts, but he took the blow like the man that he was. By swearing. With a grimace, Dylan glanced down at the closed eyes, as the wetness of her hair and clammy skin soaked through his shorts. She wasn’t moving. At all. Jesus, maybe she really was dead. He was no MD. Of course, she had moaned, but what the hell did he know? It could have been her last breath. “Are you okay, lady? Please say something.” He was afraid to move, afraid to exasperate any injuries she might have, afraid that he was starting to panic a little and that for all he was a macho ballplayer, he was freaking out here. “Just give me a second,” she whispered in a husky voice. Alright then. Alive, thank God. “But are you hurt? I need to call for help. Let me scoot out from under you.” If she was injured, he needed to get assistance, and he was a good thirty minutes from shore. He had his cell phone in his pocket, and he was close enough that he might be able to get a signal. If not, he’d use his radio. But when he started to shift, she moaned into his pelvis. “I’m fine. Just let me be still for a minute.” Dylan stopped moving. She sounded pretty intact, just tired, which had him staring up at the sky in some serious relief. “Nothing’s broken? You’re not bleeding, or delirious, or paralyzed?” “No.” Good, because he was working on an erection and he was a sick bastard if she was hurt, and he was getting off on her face being plastered down in his crotch. But that facial proximity below his waist, coupled with her chest… holy hooters, she had a nice rack. It was all pressed against his hips and between his legs, and his body was automatically responding to the position. He didn’t mean to, knew that there was a church confessional with his name on it for this one, but damn, her breasts were so soft and big. There was no way those were fake. They felt pliable and bouncy, sort of wrapping around him in a hug. Dylan looked up at the sky and did a practice Hail Mary. He’d be doing twenty of them after this. Might as well make sure he remembered the words. She turned her head a little, so that her lips pressed right over his fly, her nose burying into his crotch, only covered by thin swim trunks. The gates of hell swung wide open in welcome for him. Because he was hard, getting harder by the minute. “How long have you been in the water? What happened to you?” he asked, followed by, “Hail Mary, full of grace…” Man, he was blanking out after that. His mother would beat him with her rosary if she found out. Second confession needed- forgetting prayers as well as lusting after unknown, helpless woman. “Are you praying?” the woman asked, her voice sounding a little incredulous. “Yes. I’m praying that you’re okay.” Oh, my God, he had just lied. Shit. And taken the name of the Lord in vain. How many commandments could he break in one day? He was probably coveting his neighbor’s wife right this very second. The problem was, he hadn’t had sex in an entire year. His body clearly missed it, given its let’s-do-it reaction to a half-drowned woman. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m just tired. Thank you for the pillow.” “Uh…” Dylan tried very hard not to move. She had to be delirious. She had fallen right onto him two minutes ago, not a pillow in sight. His semi-erection was right alongside her ear, and while he wasn’t going to brag, he was big enough that she should notice its existence. And it damn well wasn’t soft. “You’re welcome.” But his voice must have given him away- he never could lie well because of his Catholic guilt. Her eyes popped open and she looked up. Wiped her glasses with a finger. Looked down. Looked left to right, then sat up with a scream. Which gave him a glorious view of her breasts, covered by tiny bikini triangles in a stars and stripes pattern. Dylan was pretty sure he was saluting the flag.