“Wait, Jane, wait. I don’t have protection. It’s been so long. I didn’t even think…”
I curse but it’s the responsible thing to do. I force myself to step back, putting precious inches between us. My body screams in protest. The cool air on my overheated skin feels like a betrayal.
“Room service? Maybe they…” I think out loud.
Jane slides off the counter. Her legs wobble slightly, but she steadies herself. A strange, almost mischievous look crosses her face. “Wait here.”
She darts out of the kitchen, disappearing down the hallway toward the bedroom.
I lean against the counter, breathing hard, trying to wrestle my body back under control. It feels like trying to cap a geyser. Every nerve ending is still screaming for her. The taste of her is still on my lips. The feel of her body pressed against mine is imprinted on my skin.
This is insanity. We have a mission to save Natalie from Blake. Scarlett is probably sharpening her knives.
And I’m about to blow three years of disciplined celibacy because Jane Cooper sighs like a goddess during a massage.
She reappears in the doorway. Her cheeks are flushed. She’s holding something behind her back. She walks toward me slowly, biting her lip.
“Okay,” she says, stopping in front of me. “Don’t laugh. AND don’t judge me.”
“Jane, I’m about two seconds from tearing this place apart looking for a—”
She holds out her hand. In her palm is a familiar, brightly colored box. Averylarge box.
The kind you buy when optimism meets preparation.
It’s emblazoned with the logo of a certain Romansoldier—
right next to a bulk retailer logo.
“Costco?” I stare at it. Then at her. “You brought a forty-pack Trojan Variety Pack condoms from Costco?”
She shrugs, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably. The blush spreads down her neck.
“I don’t know. This isn’t for the job… but I thought maybe meet someone on the island… live and lust a little. A girl likes to be prepared.”
“Also they were on sale: three dollars off twenty!”
I stare at the box. The sheer, glorious absurdity of it. The practicality. The chaotic, beautiful, utterlyJanelogic.
A laugh bubbles up from deep inside me, breaking through the tension, the frustration, the desperate need. It’s loud, unrestrained, echoing in the high-ceilinged kitchen.
Jane’s eyes widen. “Are you laughing at my bulk condoms?”
“Jane Cooper,” I say, shaking my head, the laughter still bubbling under my words. “You are…”
I can’t even find the words. Magnificent? Terrifying? Perfect?
She flushes deeper. “It’s just practical. Don’t make it weird.”
“Too late.” I close the distance between us in one step. I take the box from her hand and toss it onto the counter.
Then I cup her face in my hands. “It’s already weird. And perfect. And… you’re stoking my pro-athlete sense of competitiveness. Forty in the next five days… that’s… ambitious,” I tease, my thumb strokes her cheekbone.
“Are you really sure?”
Her eyes search mine. There’s no trace of the wooden board now. Only heat, and trust, and a flicker of nervous excitement.
“Yes,” she breathes. “But… go slow?”
