“Morus bassanus—oh my God, I think that’s what it is—hang on—” She bites her bottom lip in concentration, flipping open her guidebook with one hand while keeping the binoculars locked on the bird with the other.
I step in behind her, close enough for my chest to brush her back, close enough to catch the faint mix of salt and something soft drifting from her hair. She’s so damn small in front of me, barely reaching my shoulder. I could rest my chin on top of her head. A few strands of her hair catch the wind and tickle against my jaw.
“Here.” My hand closes over hers, steadying the binoculars, guiding her left. “See him now?”
Her fingers are warm and delicate under my palm, so tiny I could wrap my entire hand around both of hers.
The gannet hovers—six feet of sharp-beaked predator—then drops like a missile, slicing the sky at sixty miles per hour before spearing the water. It disappears beneath the swell, then surfaces a moment later with a fish thrashing between its beak.
She gasps. The sound shudders through her body straight into my chest.
When’s the last time anyone’s reacted like that to something I’ve shown them?
“He’s magnificent,” she breathes. “I can’t believe I got to see that. The poor fish, though…”
That soft, guilty note in her voice curls a smile out of me. “That’s mother nature. Doesn’t pull her punches. Brutal and beautiful at the same time.”
“I wouldn’t want to get too close to him.”
“Yeah… someone your size, he’d have you off that cliff before you knew what hit you. Wouldn’t take much.”
She twists in my arms, mock-offended, those green eyes flashing up at me. “Hey! I’m not that small.”
“Compared to me, you are.”
A nervous laugh slips out of her. “Well, you’re abnormally large, so that’s hardly fair.”
I nod toward the gannet as it wings back to its nest. “See that? Most territorial bastard in the sky. Males will fight to the death for a nesting spot. Push rivals straight off the cliffs.”
“That’s… quite aggressive.”
“Has to be.” My hand stays over hers on the binoculars, holding them steady. “Only the strongest males get to mate. Size matters. Dominance matters. Everything else is just survival of the weak.”
“Sounds like how you run McLaren Hotels.”
I glance down, trying to decide if it’s a tease or a jab. “No one’s been shoved off a cliff yet. Not literally, anyway.”
She tilts her head back further to look at me, eyes soft, smile genuine.
She’s… sweet. The kind of sweet you want to protect. And the kind you want to ruin, just to see the way her face changes after.
Christ, Patrick.
I’m pressed up against Jake’s sister like a fucking predator, talking about mating and dominance. And she’s not pulling away.
Then she shifts. Her denim-covered ass presses right against my cock through the thin barrier of my shorts.
It’s innocent. Unintentional. I can tell by the sudden stillness in her body, the sharp hitch of her breath when she realizes exactly how we’re lined up.
Mine stops dead.
For one long, loaded second neither of us moves. My head’s a wreck ofdon’t touch hercolliding withChrist almighty, yes.
The binoculars tremble in her grip.
I jerk back sharply. My hand drops from hers.
“Come on,” I growl, already turning away from her before I do something even more fucking stupid. “We’re moving to the next spot.”
