“Or maybe I’m just naturally drawn to where you are.”
“Some women would call that stalker tendencies,” I sass back. He throws his head back and laughs, and even I giggle at how ridiculous that sounds. If there’s any man out there whose intentions seem to be nothing but good, it’s this one. Every time we’ve run into each other, he has been nothing but respectful and kind. To me and everyone else.
“I’ll take you up on your offer.” I hand him the bottle and turn around so my back is facing him. A beat goes by, then large hands land on my bare skin, making me jump a little.
“Sorry,” he murmurs as he starts to smooth his hands over my back.
“It’s fine,” I whisper back.
“I have to lift your bathing suit straps to get underneath. Is that okay?”
Is that okay? Seriously? Is he waiting for my consent before rubbing sunscreen under the straps of my bathing suit? Belatedly, I realize he really is waiting for my answer, so I nod sharply. Once again, he’s nothing but respectful as he moves quickly. On my lower back, he stills again, but this time stays silent.
“It’s fine, Ronan. I appreciate your help.” Even though I could technically do that part myself, the touch of his hands that close to my ass feels way too fucking good. I assume he’s done, but then his hands come back up to my shoulders.
“Let me just double-check it’s rubbed in.”
Thumbs start to knead the muscles in my shoulders, and I can’t help the moan that escapes me.
“Woman, you’re hard as a rock,” he chastises gently, and I can’t resist a tease.
“Isn’t that meant to be my line?” His grip tightens, but just briefly before he lifts his hands off me completely. He stands up just as I turn back around and there’s an unmistakable bulge under his shorts. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”
“Nah, you’re fine,” he says, a little too casually if you ask me. Before I can think of a response, he crouches back down and his hand comes up to grip my chin. “I just didn’t want to make it obvious how close to the truth you really are.”
Unbidden, my thighs squeeze together as I exhale.
“I gotta go. It’s wedding day, and they’re probably wondering why I’m not back from my run yet.” His voice is gruff, and all I can do is nod. “Don’t stay out here too long; I won’t be around to reapply.”
A strangled laugh sneaks out of me, and his lips quirk to the side in return. Then he straightens up and walks away toward the hotel. And because I apparently have no shame, my eyes remain glued to his perfect ass the entire way until he’s out of sight.
I follow Ronan’s advice and don’t stay at the beach overly long. Knowing he’s around today, but busy with his friends, I opt to go to my room for a shower and a change of clothes, then head into Waikiki Beach for some shopping.
But as I stand under the spray of my shower, my hands drift over my skin, teasing my nipples before drifting lower. There’s no avoiding the image that is forefront in my mind as I gently glide between the folds of my pussy. What other tall, dark, and very handsome man would I be picturing, if not the one who has been slowly weakening my resolve for days.
I don’t date baseball players.
But surely, masturbating to a fantasy of one isn’t so bad?
My finger dips inside as I gasp, the heat of the water pelting down on me, one hand squeezing and plucking at my nipple as the other teases between my legs. I have to lean back against the cool tile of the shower wall to steady myself.
As the heat inside of me builds, I can feel that my fingers won’t be enough this time. Blinking water out of my now open eyes, I slide the glass door of the shower open and grab the silicone toy that’s sitting on the counter. Of course, it’s the same toy that went off in the security line. The same toy Ronan knows I have with me.
Bringing it between my legs, I turn it on and let out a low moan as soon as it hits my already sensitive clit. “Fuck, yes,” I breathe, leaning back against the tile once more. The contrast of the warm water and the cool tile has all my senses buzzing.
With no one here to witness me giving into temptation, I let my mind fully imagine Ronan down on his knees, holding the toy to my pussy while driving his thick fingers into me. I picture his lips closing around my nipple, biting and sucking.
And when my orgasm overwhelms me, turning my legs to Jell-O, I can’t help but cry out his name, letting it echo around me as proof that the man is dangerously close to making me throw my number one rule out the window.
When I return to the hotel after a very successful shopping trip, I head straight to my room to deposit my bags, then return to the lobby, intent on finding a seat at the beachside bar for a cocktail.
But the bar is closed, displaying a sign that reads “private event.” As I move to walk away, mentally shifting plans to head into the restaurant and see if they have a seat with a view, I hear my name being called.
I spin slowly on my sandal-covered feet and try not to let my mouth fall open. I’ve seen Ronan in gym clothes, hiking clothes, casual clothes — hell, I’ve even seen him in nothing but his boxer briefs. But nothing, nothing at all could have prepared me for Ronan in khaki slacks and a white dress shirt. It’s open at the collar, his sleeves rolled up, and his hair is perfectly styled.
He’s devastatingly handsome at the best of times, and right now, that much more so. But even if he is the most attractive man I’ve ever met, and he’s kind, and respectful, and the absolute opposite of the douchebags I’ve dated recently, he’s still a baseball player.
But he plays on the opposite side of the country.
