“So that we don’t alert the sharks.”
My eyes instinctively scan the water’s surface before I realize, a beat too late, that she’s joking. Again. She gets me every time.
We make good progress. Sara is a fast learner, and I win the battle against my raging erection and the feel of her body in my arms.
I check her lips often to make sure that they’re not turning blue. But when she shivers, I set her down, holding her close.
“Enough for today.”
“How did I do?”
Water droplets collect on her lashes, and with her damp curls clinging to her face, I can’t resist leaning in and brushing her lips with mine. Her nipples instantly harden, pressing through the bathing suit and burning holes in my chest.
“Good.” It’s all I can manage right now. I don’t dare look down, in case I come face to face with my shaft bobbing beneath the water’s surface. “I don’t want you dying of hypothermia.”
“Romeo.” She waits for my eyes to meet hers. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that while I’m with you.”
Does that mean what I think it means?
Does she feel it too?
As if she can read my mind, she nods and slips her arms around my neck, and her legs around my waist.
I carry her back to the beach and set her down on the cool sand, her wet body sliding down the length of mine. No way in hell she missed my erection that time.
I thumb the strap of her bathing suit. “You should get out of this and get dry.”
Peering left and right along the beach to make sure that we’re alone, she strips off the wet suit and waits for a towel.
I fumble with the bag zipper. She is so fucking beautiful, it’s all I can think about as I pull out a towel and wrap it around her naked body with trembling fingers. The swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the mound between her legs.
Sara holds my gaze. “Romeo…”
I swallow.
“You should get dry too.”
Without thinking, I pull out a second towel, dry my face and chest, and drape it over my shoulders simply because she told me to.
I want to explore every inch of her body. I want to taste her inside and out. I want to fuck her until she can’t walk. But not here. Not in public. When I make Sara mine, I don’t want an audience.
She licks her lips and slants her eyes at me. “I guess there’s just one question left. Can I see the rest of your tattoos?”
5
SARA
Ten minutes later,we are standing outside Romeo’s door. He lives in a little walk-in basement suite under one of the many businesses owned by the Rossi family. This one has a tin can emblazoned on the outside, so I’m assuming it’s a cannery.
Romeo fumbles with the keys. His big hands, so strong and capable, are shaking as he tries to put the key into the lock.
His nerves make my heart squeeze.
I never thought that this scary guy would be so… sweet.
Thoughtful.
Attentive.
