Lucy stared at her, stunned. But before she could even form a thought beyond,oh shit, this is actually happening, Skye grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the path winding up past the garden terrace. Lucy followed, stumbling slightly on theuneven stone. The towel clung to her damp legs, and suddenly she felt somewhat naked. Ironic, wasn’t it? What if someone spotted them? What if someone who wasn’t Skye saw her bare tits and snapped a photo? Lucy yanked the towel higher to cover her chest and clutched it tight with one arm, holding it in place, while the other hand stayed locked in Skye’s grip.
It was dark now. The moon was a sliver, but Lucy could easily make out the bungalow Skye was staying in off in the distance. It was small and tucked behind a dense wall of palms and torch-lit planters. The entire structure was made out of natural wood, and there was an infinity plunge pool out front. Tall sliding glass doors reflected moonlight across the deck.
“Stay close,” Skye said, glancing back.
Her hand was still firmly wrapped around Lucy’s, and Lucy was honestly shocked Skye couldn’t feel the way her pulse was hammering through her skin. And her palm was probably clammy, which was borderline embarrassing, but if Skye noticed, she didn’t let on.
They kept to the shadows, ducking behind potted ferns. And there was one quick, nerve-wracking moment where they had to wait for the beam of a flashlight from a roaming PA to swing opposite their direction.
The entrance to the bungalow required a keycard. The panel was tucked beneath an overhead light. Skye glanced Lucy’s way again, but this time said nothing. She simply reached into the pocket of her linen shorts and pulled out a card.
The lock clicked open with a faint mechanical whirr, and she pushed the door wide.
“Quickly,” she murmured, ushering Lucy in. “Before anyone sees.”
Without glancing back, without hesitating or wondering what the hell she was doing, or if she would get into any trouble over this, she slipped past Skye.
Lucy was about to take in the room, the king-size bed with the silk sheets, the wicker chair in the corner, the dark wood armoire, but Skye was already there in front of her. Her hands were on Lucy, and her mouth crashed hot and hungry against hers. It was the kind of kissing that made Lucy forget what room they were in, and even what planet they were on. She dropped the towel without a second thought, and it fell in a damp heap at her feet.
Skye broke the kiss and leaned back just an inch. Her gaze flicked down Lucy’s body, and whatever control she appeared to be holding onto snapped. Her lips curled slightly, but her eyes were ravenous.
“Wow,” she breathed. “You are…”
“Don’t say beautiful,” Lucy warned, breathless and grinning. “That’ll make me feel weird. I’ve never been good at taking compliments.”
Skye’s laugh was wicked. “Noted.”
It was true; Lucy did hate a compliment, but for some reason, that unfinished compliment felt like the mother of all compliments. She tugged at the hem of Skye’s shirt and got it halfway up before Skye yanked it off the rest of the way with a growl that shot straight through Lucy’s spine. Their mouths collided again, and hands roamed everywhere. Skye’s shorts were halfway down her thighs before Lucy even realized she had gotten the button undone.
They bumped into something. A chair? A suitcase? It didn’t matter. Skye’s clothes were shed as if she were allergic to fabric. Lucy’s pulse fluttered in her throat, and her brain was a blur of yes, yes, yes!
By the time her knees hit the edge of the bed, she was laughing and panting and somehow still kissing Skye like she was the last oxygen source on earth.
Then, Skye leaned in close. She nudged Lucy back onto the mattress. And Lucy, still laughing, breathless, and blissed out of her mind, thought;Ok, so this is happening. It’s really happening. Holy shit!
Skye climbed over her, sliding her thighs over Lucy’s hips, and Lucy’s laugh caught in her throat. It was replaced instead by a gasp when Skye kissed her on the side of her neck.
The woman was gorgeous. Her body was lean and surprisingly strong, all smooth curves and slight muscles. Her collarbone slipped into view beneath the soft slope of her shoulders. As she hovered over Lucy, her flat stomach tightened and her breasts swayed slightly. Her breasts displayed themselves full and perfect, her nipples stiff. It was almost too much. Lucy nearly forgot how to breathe.
And not to mention her skin, that lovely, creamy skin with freckles here and there that Lucy wanted to memorize with her mouth.
“You’re shivering again,” Skye murmured. Her hand smoothed over Lucy’s sides, down to her thighs and back up to her waist, coming to rest just above the crease in her hip.
“Are you really worried?” Lucy managed, her voice shaky. “Or are you simply looking for an excuse to warm me up?”
Skye smirked against her neck. “Yes,” she said. Then she kissed her lower.
And lower still.
Lucy’s breath stuttered. Her hands scrambled for something to hold on to: Skye’s shoulders, the sheets, the very concept of gravity. Every inch of Lucy felt exposed and electric, not only from the cold air on her damp skin but also from the way Skye looked at her. Like she was something rare and maybe like she couldn’t quite believe her luck. Which was the exact same way Lucy found herself looking at Skye, because Skye was breathtaking. The bachelorette’s cheeks were flushed, her lipskiss-bitten, and her hair, a tousled halo of red, was wild from Lucy’s hands.
Lucy couldn’t stop staring.
Because how was this real? She could hardly believe that she was the one lying back on a high thread count sheet, her towel forgotten on the floor, with Skye Wilder, bachelorette, crawling over her.
Skye dipped her head again and kissed the spot right below Lucy’s ear.
Lucy let out a soft, broken sound. Her fingers finally settled and curled tight around Skye’s biceps. She anchored herself as if Skye were the only thing that kept her tethered to the planet.
