He’s not wrong. I’m so grateful that, out of all the Beckett bodyguards, I got Tate.
I clink my glass against his bottle of beer. ‘To the best bodyguard ever.’
‘And to me surviving another day of keeping you out of trouble.’ He shakes his head. ‘Even if I incurred third-degree burns in the process. I’m the bravest ginger around.’
‘You’re the only ginger around,’ I laugh, smiling into my drink.
‘Because the rest of my kind have more sense,’ he jokes, running a hand over his pink tinged face.
Then the air shifts.
A ripple of awareness crawls over my skin, and I feelhimbefore I see him.
My pulse thunders. My skin prickles. Every cell in my body vibrates with that sexual awareness.
California is here.
I don’t need to look. I feel his presence with every fibre of my body.
Tate catches it too. His posture changes. ‘Don’t look now,’ he murmurs, ‘but your friend is back on the radar.’ The word ‘friend’ rolls off his tongue like poison.
I flick my hair from my shoulders, straighten my spine, and will myself not to look round.
‘He’s glaring at me like I kicked his puppy.’ Tate snorts, then lifts his beer to his lips, drinking deeply.
I can’t help it. Something about that man pulls me in like a magnet. Against my better judgement, I glance over my shoulder. The sight of him knocks the breath from my lungs.He’s leaning against the bar, beer in hand, those cool, piercing eyes collide with mine and those same sex hormones soar through the air between us like arrows aimed at every erogenous zone I own. The heat in his stare is hotter than the Caribbean sun. My stomach does that stupid flip again.
He pushes off the bar and struts toward us, slowly, deliberately, like a panther assessing its prey. My heart hammers in my chest as he approaches. My eyes drift to the lips that, mere hours ago, roamed over every inch of my skin, and lust lances through my entire body.
He stops beside me, close enough to set a fresh burst of tingles spiralling over my skin. ‘Thought you’d disappeared on me.’ His voice is low, gravelly.
I let out a short laugh and lift my drink. ‘And I thought I’d left my overbearing brothers at home.’
He leans in, close enough for his breath to brush my ear. His voice drops to a husky whisper. ‘Trust me, Irish. There’s nothing brotherly about the things I’ve been waiting to do to you.’
Heat floods my veins. My body betrays me instantly, every nerve singing. ‘You’ll have to wait a little longer.’ I motion to my damp sundress. ‘I need to shower.’
Tate bristles beside me but says nothing.
‘Want some company?’ His lips curve into that lazy, sensual smile.
I put my straw into my mouth and suck without breaking eye contact. I know how to play the game. And if I make things too easy for California, he’ll be using his talents on someone else before his holiday is over.
His gaze fixates on my lips around the straw. I swallow, watching as his eyes darken. Bingo. ‘Maybe later.’ The words flow out cool and calm—in complete contrast to the heat bubbling like molten lava in my blood.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. The air between uscrackles—pure, charged chemistry. Then, I casually avert my eyes, pretending I’m completely unaffected by him. Pretending that I’m not pressing my thighs tightly together at the mere prospect of having him in between them again.
His deep chuckle reverberates down the column of my spine slowly sliding over each individual vertebrae. ‘If you keep teasing me with that straw, Irish, I might not last until later.’
‘Then I guess you’d better work on your stamina,’ I fire back, arching a brow.
The corner of his mouth curves. ‘Oh, my stamina is fine. I can go all night. You should know.’
I shake my head, but a smile tugs at my lips. ‘I knew you were cocky.’
‘Confident,’ he reminds me.
I tilt my head, pretending to consider him. ‘Was confidence what made you strut out of my suite before sunrise?’
