You were just trying to grab a drink from the cooler. That’s it.

But the moment you bent down — bikini top straining to contain you, the tiniest triangle of fabric clinging on for dear life — Drew stopped mid-sentence, mid-breath, mid-existence.

His sunglasses slid down his nose a little more, but he didn’t fix them. He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

“…bro,” JD mumbled next to him. “Your girl is—yeah, I’m gonna shut up.”

Drew didn’t answer. Couldn’t. He was already standing, slowly, like he was in a trance. The sun was hitting your skin just right. Your chest glistened with leftover seawater. And that bikini? Jesus.

He reached you before you even noticed he’d moved, standing directly behind you as you closed the cooler lid.

You turned and jumped slightly. “You okay?”

He looked anything but okay.

“No,” he said, voice low and slightly breathless. “What the fuck is that top, hm?”

You blinked innocently. “It’s a bikini, Drew.”

“No, that—” his hands gestured vaguely at your chest, mouth parted, eyes practically burning holes into you. “—that’s not a bikini. That’s a damn napkin with strings attached.”

You snorted, clearly amused. “Why do you look like you’re in pain?”

“Because I am,” he groaned, grabbing your waist and pulling you against him, not even pretending to hide how wrecked he was. “You’ve got the whole beach seeing what’s mine and I’m five seconds from carrying you to the car.”

“Oh, possessive Drew, hello,” you teased, sliding your arms around his neck, your body brushing right against his. “What happened to playing it cool in public?”

“I forgot how to breathe the second I saw your tits bouncing out of the water like that,” he whispered into your ear, voice like gravel. “Cool is gone. Dead. Buried.”

Your breath caught.

“Everyone’s here…” you murmured.

He grinned, wicked and flushed. “I know. And I swear to God, if you bend over like that again, I’m canceling this entire beach day and ruining you in the back of my car.”

You squealed, burying your face in his chest as you tried to quiet your laughter, body burning with flustered heat.

“Drew!” you whisper-yelled.

“What?” he said, completely unbothered. “You’ve got my favorite view on display, and you expect me to act like that’s normal? Nah. I’m feral. You did this.”

And then he kissed the top of your chest, right between the swell of your breasts, like he couldn’t help himself. Not even trying to be subtle.

You swatted him, heart pounding. “You’re out of control.”