The movie star was in his element, and a few people were stripping to their underwear to take a dip. One couple got into the hot tub, which featured a waterfall that flowed into the pool. No one was naked yet, and Damien had passed out on a lounge chair.
“I want to walk on the beach,” I said to Landon. I was still buzzed and clung to his arm for support. It couldn’t have been because he felt so big and strong and warm. “I never get to walk on the beach.”
“Because you’re always working.”
“Look who’s talking!”
“Hey, I’m not arguing with you. Let’s walk on the beach.”
“Should’ve worn shorts. These jeans are going to get wet.” Hell, they were getting wet already, but not from the waves.
“Roll ’em up,” he said.
“Are you laughing at me?”
His eyes were sparkling, and he was covering his mouth with his hands. “No,” he mumbled into his hand, but his chest was shaking.
“You’re terrible. You roll up your jeans. I’m taking mine off.”
OK, so one part of my mind was sayingKayla, what the hell?Anddon’t ever drink Mai Tais again,while another part was getting all frisky and bold and loved hanging out with this spontaneous crowd. What was one more person in their underwear?
I slipped off my jeans and left them with my shoes by the side of the pool while Landon’s eyes got wider. Here’s the thing. My shirt was pretty long, so it almost covered my butt anyway. And I had cotton bikini briefs on. I was not a thong kinda girl. Still, I couldn’t help noticing the way he scanned me, and suddenly I was buzzed on more than the drinks.
He left his tennis shoes by the pool, too, and rolled up his jeans, and then we took the walkway and steps over the dune out to the dark beach. Everyone’s lights were down so as not to disturb any nesting or hatching sea turtles, and it was pretty quiet. No one around. The breeze lifted my hair and rippled my clothes, and for the first time in a long time, I was really — happy.
I looked down, puzzled. Something was different. Then, through my tipsy haze, I realized Landon had ahold of my hand. I was walking hand in hand with Landon. I looked up at him in wonder. He was silent as we walked along to the now distant sound of our friends’ party, the hiss of the waves keeping us company.
“Landon?” I whispered.
He paused and looked down at me with a little smile. More of a spark than fireworks. “You OK?”
“I feel really good.” I pulled him closer to the dune line, in the shadow of the grassy bank, where it felt more private. I let go of his hand, and then I slipped both of my arms around his waist and gave him a little tug so he was snug against me.
He stood still for a moment, very still, as if he was deciding something, and then he threaded his fingers through my hair, brought me closer and kissed me.
Oh my God.Why had I pushed him away the other night? There were Reasons. There were always Reasons. But now I opened to him without reservation, all my walls dissolving into sparkling butterflies and flying away into the night.
His tongue found mine, and heat blossomed between my legs and all over my body as his hands roamed down my back and cupped my ass through the boring cotton underwear. He kneaded me there, a whole new place to massage, and I gripped him more tightly, crushing myself against his pelvis, feeling the hard bulge there, wanting to know what he’d feel like inside me.
His mouth moved to my neck, tonguing behind my ear, working his way down to the V in my T-shirt. He stretched the fabric with his hand so he could kiss the smooth mounds of flesh above my bra, and I breathed in sharply.
“Take it off,” I whispered, and without hesitation, he swept the cotton shirt over my head and tossed it to the sand next to us.
“Kayla.” He cupped my breasts through my black lace bra — my bra wasnotboring — and looked into my eyes, searching. “Are you — do you —”
“I’m sure.” I licked my lips. “I want you.”
Chapter 22
My declaration of desire was all it took to break Landon’s restraint.
Faster than a cheetah driving a Bugatti, he unhooked my bra, slid it off and dropped it on the ground. Then he whipped off his own shirt, and the dizzying cocktail of Mai Tais and Landon made me lightheaded all over again. He grinned at my obvious awe at his delicious, muscled body, pulled me close and began kissing me again — on my lips, my neck, my clavicle, the upper curve of my breasts.
Before I knew it, he’d lowered me to the sand — well, on top of the shirts, but I was well aware of the sand — and as I lay on my back, he brushed his lips over each nipple, then flicked each hardening peak with his tongue.
“God, yes, more,” I said, pushing my breasts up toward his mouth as I caressed his back.
He chuckled, kneading one breast with his hand while he took the other nipple between his lips and sucked hard. Then he tugged at it with his teeth, and I yelped.
