When the last shudder ceased, he pulled back, his dark eyes never wavering from mine as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
And God help me, that primal gesture had me ready for another round.
I ran my hands over his biceps and kissed him.
As if he could read my thoughts, a small shiver ran through him and he fisted a hand in my hair and pulled my gaze to him.
“Beach time.”
Chapter 24
Sophie
We spread a large beach towel over the hot sand and sank onto it, the salt from our swim clinging to our skin.
The air was thick with summer—salt sharp on the tongue, heat shimmering, sunscreen melting into a familiar, coconut-sweet haze—layered with the faint bitterness of seaweed drying on the rocks and the soft, honeyed breath of pine drifting down from the hills behind the shore.
It was around two o’clock, but the sun was still high. I gave a contented sigh and pressed my back against Kian’s muscular chest, but all I could think about was his words and how they promised a night I’d never forget.
How could I be so certain? Call it a woman’s intuition.
I couldn’t wait, buzzing with excitement like a kid on Christmas Eve. Only my present would come in the form of a hot-as-sin silver fox. Every lingering look from him had nerves dancing in my stomach.
It wasn’t because I was questioning my choices—although maybe I should—but because I was eager for the bone-shattering, fuck-you-into-oblivion sex I knew this man would deliver.
I wore a sophisticated, white-and-black two-piece that could’ve belonged to an earlier era, when seaside glamour favored restraint andintention over display. It was modest by modern standards: a high-waisted bottom that gently shaped the hips and smoothed the line of my body. The top had a structured bandeau, halter style, offering support without excess. It fastened with a small metal clasp at the back, cool against my sun-warmed skin. It was just enough to suggest femininity without trying too hard, and judging by Kian’s heated gaze, it was the right choice. I selfishly hoped he’d give in to my womanly wiles even before the night fell.
I reached for the sunscreen and shifted closer, angling the bottle toward him.
“Could you help, please?” I asked, fluttering my eyelashes in what I hoped passed for innocence. I wasn’t above tempting fate—or him—when the attraction between us already felt so hot it crackled in the air.
Unfortunately, he was wearing dark sunglasses, the lenses hiding his eyes completely, and I couldn’t tell whether my little performance was having any effect.
“Didn’t we just do this?” he asked, though he took the bottle anyway, flipping it open and squeezing sunscreen into his palm.
“Yes, but I burn like a lobster, so I’d rather be safe.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, though the sunscreen he’d applied twenty minutes ago was nowhere near at risk of failing. I just wanted his hands on me. My gaze drifted over him: gray swim shorts and a white short-sleeve button-down shirt hanging open, the line of his chest exposed, the subtle definition of his abs catching the sun.
“Aren’t you going to take your shirt off?” I added lightly.
His movements stalled for the briefest second before he set his hands on my shoulders. His palms were warm as he worked the sunscreen into my skin, the touch intimate and sensual.
A shiver traced its way down my spine.
God. If his hands alone could undo me like this, I could only imagine what everything else would feel like with him.
When he still didn’t answer, I twisted around to face him, the sunscreen all but forgotten.
“You don’t have a thing about taking off your clothes, do you?” I asked. He wiped his hands on the extra towel, still silent. I tilted myhead, overcome with the urge to poke at him. “You’re not going to have sex with me fully clothed… are you?”
“Of course not.”
He slid his shirt off his shoulders, baring his torso. Heat pooled low in my stomach, my fingers curling into fists as I fought the instinct to touch him. But then…
Why fight this?
We were both adults, and we’d already crossed far more intimate lines.
“I want to touch you,” I murmured. I shifted to face him, reaching out to trace the firm curve of his biceps and the length of his forearms.
