Everything from her hips down and right up the front of her was so waterlogged, and now they were moving forward, and there was water on all sides now, even if dry land was still a stone's throw away, and yeah, Vette was still not loosening that grip for love or money.

"Okay," she breathed, eyes still wide. "Okay, this is good. I can do this."

Give her a minute and she'd get past 'holy frak, water, holy frak, sea' far enough to start processing other things, like the way he was being so adorably considerate in letting her get used to this before going any faster, and maybe a little of how he was moving, muscles shifting under her while he worked his arms and legs, and most definitely just how solid a presence he was, strong and confident and honestly really nice to be close to while she clung for dear life.

... He smelled nice. Was that weird to say about a guy who smelled mostly like fish and seawater? Well, he did. She'd add that to the list, too.