“Oh, no! Go ahead and sleep. I’ll be fine.”
She smiles, reaching down to unzip her suitcase. I’m surprised it’s held on this long without completely falling apart. The urge to buy her a whole new set is ridiculous and inappropriate.
I get my bag and go into the bathroom to shower off before I have to face my sister’s fiancé tonight.
After the hot water releases some tension from my muscles, I lie down to rest for a few moments, intending to stay awake.
Kate is showering.
She’s outside the bungalow in a microscopic peach bikini that makes her look practically naked. I can’t peel my eyes away from of her as she rinses sand and ocean water from her body.
I know I should give her privacy. I know this is wrong. I know she doesn’t see me standing at the back door of the bungalow like a perverted Peeping Tom.
Her eyes are closed as she turns, her backside facing toward me.
I can’t take this. Why do they make these bathing suits without proper coverage? It’s completely unbelievable how much of her skin I can see. I’m shirtless, only clothed in a pair of grey sweatpants that I’m sure aren’t hiding my reaction to her.
Look away, look away, look away before it’s too late . . .
It’s too late. She pivots back around with her eyes open. She freezes at the sight of me, and I will myself to turn and walk away.
I gather every shred of self control I have, clenching my fists as I try to talk myself into doing the smart thing and leaving her alone.
I should take my arousal back into the bungalow for a cold shower.
But I don’t.
Maybe getting closer to her is the answer. Fight fire with fire.
I advance toward her. She doesn’t move, the spray still soaking her salacious, silky skin.
She takes a tiny step back as I reach her, eyebrows raised and lips parted. We don’t need to talk about this. This is on her agenda, and I’m not interested in thwarting her efforts anymore.
My fingers reach toward the back of her head, grabbing a handful of wet hair and pulling her face toward mine. She doesn’t resist me, moving forward willingly.
Right before our lips meet, I look into her hooded eyes as I pant in anticipation. She licks her lips, eyes trained on my mouth as her hand touches my back. She releases a tiny gasp as I press my mouth to hers.
Her lips are salty at first, and then she turns to sweetness, like a piece of Sour Patch candy. I pull her entire body flush against me, needing every inch of her to touch me. She reaches a hand up around my neck, our height difference forcing me to bend down and scoop her up. Her legs wrap around my waist, our lips staying locked while our tongues compete for each other’s attention.
I devour her, savoring the sensations that she sends through me. It’s like our first night, multiplied a thousand times because I know her now. I know she’s kind, quirky, and that I simply enjoy being near her.
I don’t want to wait until we go into the bungalow. She moans into my mouth as I nibble on her bottom lip.
Right before I deposit her onto the plush white patio sofa, she pulls back from me.
“Luke . . .”
I look into her blue eyes, waiting.
“I don’t understand you,” she whispers.
Her hair is wet, eyelashes blinking drips of water down her cheeks. I toss her back onto the sofa before looming over her, studying every dip and curve of her body.
“I want you. Now.” I can’t explain it any better than that, and I hope she doesn’t ask.
She searches my face before leaning up to touch my mouth again, planting tiny kisses on my lips as she trails hers down my neck and over my shoulder. I shudder at each point of contact, loving her lips on me.
I look down to see her nipples obviously standing at attention beneath the thin, wet top, and I decide to let her leave it on. The bottoms barely qualify as a barrier. My fingers reach down to rub over her center. She gasps as I make contact, her body jerking underneath me.
