“It sounds like heaven, but you’re about to endure winter for another few months. I don’t want to deprive you of the warm weather.”
She sits up, and the blanket drops, exposing her incredible tits. I swallow hard, spellbound at the sight. My dick jerks and I fist it, willing it to settle down. Pointless.
“One more time before breakfast?” she asks, holding out her hand.
“You’re a dream,” I tell her, throwing back the covers and kissing my way down her skin.
Half an hour later, we come up for air and take a shower. When things heat up as I lather suds all over her body, I look up from where I’m bending down by her feet. Her slit is inmy direct line of vision and invites me to lick it. I hold up my hand and glance up at her.
“I’ll feel guilty if I don’t show you a good time outside.”
Her lips quirk up. “You’re showing me an excellent time inside.”
My laughter bounces off the glass walls. “Damn, beautiful girl. You are getting so good at the dirty talk.”
I point at her when her cheeks flush and stand up, doing my best to distract myself from temptation.
“You. Stay over there, or we’ll never leave this house.”
She pretends to pout and rinses off. When she turns to open the shower door and I see her perfect ass, those full, round cheeks begging to be bitten, I suck in a breath. She gives me a flirty look over her shoulder.
“Better hurry so we can enjoy the outdoors,” she says.
I groan.
“I changed my mind,” I call when she saunters away, her hips hypnotizing me with their sway.
We prepare some food to eat on the beach, and she seems impressed by what I throw together. The truth is, I excel at keeping Trader Joe’s in business. I’m all about a good snack, and they make it easy. My mom used to say I’d ask for a snack while we were still eating dinner. We have Trader Joe’s meat and cheese slices, cheddar cheese sticks, lemon zest cookies, pretzel thins, chocolate-covered raisins and peanuts, sliced carrots and celery with dill dip, cinnamon sugar apple chips, and almond windmill cookies.
I hold up the fruit dip. “We could stop and pick up some fruit? I ate it all before I left.”
She makes a sheepish face. “I do especially love the fruit here. It’s better than what we get at home.”
“Agreed. Okay, let’s do it.”
I put the cooler in my Jeep, along with a big blanket, sunscreen, and towels. Chloe’s car seat is there, still in the travel bag. I take it out and strap it in the back seat for later.
“You’ve got practice with that.”
“I’ve had plenty of practice with my nephew, Grayson. He’s three and a half now, so we’ve gone through a few by now.”
She grins. “I bet you’re a good uncle.”
“I try. It’s one of the things I’m looking forward to the most when I move back to Minnesota—not missing out on anything with him.”
We stop at the grocery store near my house for our fruit haul, and I run in because Dahlia and Bill look so comfortable. I grab way too much fruit, but it’s worth it, the way her face lights up.
During the drive, Bill perches in Dahlia’s lap and gives me the side-eye, as if he’s sayingCan you believe my luck?
No, dude, I can’t believe mine either.
Dahlia’s quiet as she pets Bill and takes in the view.
I take her to Staircase Beach because it’s one of my favorites and usually a quieter option. Many people don’t know about the hidden parking lot, or they don’t feel like going up and down the long staircase leading down to the beach.
“I love this,” Dahlia says, looking out at the water as I spread our blanket on the sand.
“You look right at home out here,” I say.
