He kisses the inside of my ankle.
Then the vibrator grazes the tips of my toes.
I gasp—half from surprise, half from the tickle that jolts straight to my core.
His smile is wide now, a slow, sinful grin that’s making me ache.
Like when he was dancing up on that deck.
And that’s all it takes. My skin is on fire.
His mouth moves up to my calf—warm, lingering kisses—and the toy follows, buzzing along my shin, inching higher with every breath I take.
“Beckett…” I whisper, head tilting back against the pillows. “Take off your shirt. I want… I want to look at you.”
He pauses only a second—then yanks the shirt over his head in one motion. His chest is bronzed from the sun, all heat and muscle, but it’s the faint trail of hair down the center that undoes me—soft, curling. I know exactly how it feels when I drag my hands across him.
His eyes hold mine. “Your turn.”
A beat.
“Take off your dress,” he says. “For me.”
I push up from the bed and shift onto my knees, the mattress dipping beneath me. For a second, I hesitate—then I reach for the hem and pull the dress up, slow enough that I feel every inch of fabric slide over my skin.
Over my hips.
My waist.
My ribs.
I lift it over my head and let it fall to the floor at my side.
I stay there, kneeling, heart thudding.
Beckett doesn’t move to help. He doesn’t speak.
He’s just watching me like I’m something he doesn’t want to miss a second of.
“I want to seeallof you.” His voice comes out hoarse, making the ache between my thighs pulse to life.
My hands drift up then, fingers finding the front clasp of my bra. They shake—just a little. Not from embarrassment. From anticipation.
I work the tiny clasp free.
Click.
The cups fall open, and I let my breasts spill into the warm air between us.
Beckett exhales and then licks his lips. Like he’s starving.
And still—he doesn’t join me on the bed.
Instead, he presses the vibrator, still humming, into my palm.
“Touch it to your nipples,” he says, voice rough with restraint.
I blink up at him.
