He did not reply. He only let out a deep noise from the bottom of his throat that sounded like a hungry lion.

Stone put me down back on the ground when he was thigh-deep in the water. Which made it like waist-deep for me.

The turquoise ocean and had me thinking to myself if I should keep going and how much I would be able to take before the memories resurfaced.

"You can do this." A voice said. A voice way too deep and scary sounding to be my conscious.

Stone's hand grabbed mine and he squeezed reassuringly.

The water did not seem that terrifying anymore. Not compared to the feeling that came along with spending time with him. What sent shivers through my whole body was the thought that I had let this guy in. I had built up so many walls and secluded myself inside of them but now it had seemed like he had come crashing into my life with the strength of a bullet train.

I was quite a good swimmer when I was younger, but I found myself relying on him for support.

The sea only reached up to his chest when I had to start moving my arm to keep my head above water.  That was when he dropped my hand and held my hips in his embrace to keep me afloat.

A rush of the ocean hit my back and I was pushed further into his bare chest. There was nowhere else to do but wrap my arms around the back of his neck.

Our faces were so close that I could see mine clearly in the reflection of his eyes. I looked down to break the intensity.

I always wanted to know what every tattoo of his meant, but I was too scared to study the lines close enough in case he caught me staring. Our proximity meant there was nowhere else to hide. It was just us.

On the side of his torso was a tattoo of a tree. The large tree's trunk stood tall but the top was slightly tilted and leaves were falling off. It was intricate and completely alluring.

The curiosity bubbled out of me as I continued to investigate his body art with my finger "Why a tree?"

His head tilted downwards, and he joined me in looking at the black drawing of the tree and he answered "My mother was obsessed with all things nature."

"What was she like?" I asked softly.

I second-guessed my decision in asking him that. Perhaps it was too prying.

Rather than telling me off for being nosy, he replied with a hoarse voice "She was kind and compassionate. She was always outside strolling through a woodland or growing plants in the garden much to my dad's disapproval. Our yard looked like a jungle."

I matched the small smile he had while talking about her.

I wanted to hear more so I pressed, "What else?"