I was arching back up to the surface when I heard the plunge into the water next to me. My eyes opened into the sting for a brief second to see the white streak of bubbles as Xavier shot downward past me.

Surfacing, I began a fast freestyle toward the beach.

In a moment, he was alongside me and then pulling ahead, his mouth split into a wide grin. It was no use, his strength and speed were no match. I did my best, but soon I lapsed to breaststroke as I approached where he stood waist deep, water running down his finely cut upper body. He flicked his hair and then combed his fingers through it.

We stared at each other stupidly. My cheeks hurt from grinning. When I was close enough, his hand reached out. I took it and he hauled me to my feet. My toe scraped on something hard and I hissed. It was still about thirty feet to the small beach. I let my feet touch down onto the submerged rock he was standing on.

“You okay?” he asked, an arm closing around my waist and locking me against his body.

“Fine,” I said, watching a bead of salt water trickle to the edge of his top lip.

“It looked like you got hurt.”

“My foot. But your body is a good painkiller.” I licked my lips and winked.

He chuckled. Water swelled around us, and he adjusted our stance to keep our balance on the rock.

His erection pressed against my bare belly, and my stomach melted.

Then his lips, salty and cool, were on mine and his tongue, hot and sweet, licked into me.

I groaned, and letting his arm lift me, wrapped my legs around his waist so I was a barnacle on his body. I held his head in my hands so I could get enough of his damn mouth.

“Ta bouche,” he said on a groan and I giggled, pulling back for a moment, trying to remember the word. Mouth.

“I love yours too,” I said. “I was thinking that exact thing.” And I gave him another deep kiss, my tongue tasting his.

He growled and his hand slipped behind my neck.

My bikini straps slithered down my chest, and his erection pressed hard between my legs.

He licked his lips. “How much of what I say in French do you understand?” His fingers played over my nipple, pinching gently and making me arch into him with a sharp inhale.

“I mean …” I gasped as his mouth followed his fingers, and then chuckled. “I get some contextual clues. But not a whole lot.”

His other hand slipped down my waist to my butt and he squeezed a handful, pressing me into him. “Ton cul,” he began, and then let out a stream of words.

“Tell me in English,” I managed as we rocked together. “Or is it too dirty?”