Twelve
Joanna
“D
o you go to the beach in California?” I asked Jenner as we sat in lounge chairs on the sand, the warm Florida sun shining down on us, the waves lapping not far from our feet.
South Beach wasn’t the dreamiest beach in Florida, but it was still so beautiful, calm, and relaxing.
But the view had nothing on Jenner, not with his abs on full display, his pecs etched across the top of his chest.
My God.
That man was perfect.
No matter how hard I tried to look away, my eyes constantly went back to him. I was already staring when he rolled his neck toward me, blocking the sun even though he wore shades.
“No, never,” he replied. “My parents have a place in Malibu. You’d think we’d go there and spend more time outside.” He chuckled. “When we visit, we eat and then head right
