She laughed gently and eased her way into his room, her hips and nervous smile leading the way. He sat up and swung his legs around so he was bracketing the corner of his bed, and he patted the space in front of him. “Sit here.”
Once she was settled, her hair tugged out of the way over one shoulder, he rubbed his hands together to warm them up, then squeezed her traps gently, rolling along the edges of the muscles on either side of her neck with his thumbs. “Right there?”
“Mmm.”
“Don’t hunch your shoulders up when you carry a pack.”
“It wasn’t heavy!”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Bossy.”
“I’m right.”
She laughed. “Okay.”
He worked up and down the muscle until he felt her relax, then he carried the massage out to her shoulders and up into her hairline, then down her spine. Just a bit. Just enough to fully relax her.
Not at all because he wanted his hands on her body any way he could get it.
“Okay,” he said briskly, slapping his hands against his thighs. “Good?”
“Great.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I noticed a fruit tray and a pitcher of rum punch in our fridge. Want a drink before we head over for dinner?”
“Yep.”
“First one dressed gets the fancy star-shaped fruit!”
Should he tell her that starfruit, while pretty, were one of his least favorite tastes? “Sure. Race ya.”
Nope. He took his time getting dressed. He hadn’t brought a suit because the only one he’d packed for Atlanta was the one he’d worn on her wedding day and he’d burn it sooner than remind her of that, but he had a couple of dress shirts. He went for the white one, with his spare pair of black dress pants. No tie, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. Belt and dress shoes that he’d taken the extra time to polish.
He took all the extra shit out of his wallet so it didn’t bulge in his back pocket, then waited for her door to open before he grabbed the villa key card and followed her into the living room.
“I won,” she said gleefully, doing a little fist pump that made her tits bounce.
Eyes off her tits.Easier said than done when the little black dress she was wearing put them on display.
He blandly raised one eyebrow in acknowledgment of her victory. “Lucky girl.”
She hummed in pride as she reached for the thinly sliced star fruit. “Right?” She took a bite, then hesitated as the tart yet bland taste registered. “Huh,” she said around the mouthful and he cracked up. She swallowed and pointed at him. “You knew it tasted like that!”
“Yeah. Sorry. I was not in a hurry to win that race.”
“Jerk,” she said lovingly, and just like that, it really was fine that he’d kissed her earlier. Because that momentary foolishness didn’t change the fact he’d been yanking her chain for twenty years, would keep doing so for hopefully another twenty, and another after that. Nothing else mattered.
* * *
Tori leaned back in her chair and took another sip of her wine. Behind her, the ocean crashed against a rock retaining wall that edged the restaurant terrace. In front of her, her best friend was digging into a glorious-looking steak.
Her own dinner, grilled chicken and a corn and tomato salad, sat mostly untouched. Not because she wasn’t hungry—she was, and she’d get back to it in a minute.
But she couldn’t stop sliding little glances Logan’s way when he wasn’t looking.
She couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. Kisses, really. Make-out session beneath the waterfall.
“I don’t think of you as my sister. I never have, and never will.”
