Page 66 of Last Resort

An unapologetic grin lights up his face. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“I’m impressed. It’s taken you a whole month before going the direct route,” I tease.

“We’re never here together.”

“By design.” I shrug. “You’re always off wheeling and dealing or whatever you’re doing at night.”

“I’m schmoozing. Trying to negotiate prices and up our discounts since costs on the island are so high.”

I try not to let my surprise show. I had no clue. The businessperson in me wants to ask all the details, but the woman in me, the one who is highly attracted to the man beside me, keeps it light. “And here I thought you were out having torrid love affairs with all the island girls.”

“It’s crossed my mind.”

“Hey!” I pick up the pillow beside me and hit him on the head with it. In seconds, he’s tickling me and we’re wrestling for control. Laughter fills the room as I struggle against his strength that he’s willfully seceding to me, until I end up on top of him, straddling his hips.

My sides hurt from laughing so hard as I pin his hands to either side of his head in mock victory.

And all is fun and games until he stops resisting. I look down to see him looking up at me, his expression so very serious as the smile slowly fades from his lips.

The flutters turn into full-blown flapping wings.

“Callahan,” I murmur.

“Sutton,” he whispers. And that’s when I see how vulnerable he’s made himself to me. Perhaps he’s due one of my truths as well. Honesty.

“For the record, I was happy to see you again too.”

His eyes darken, his smile is ever so slight. He reaches out and cups the back of my neck as warning bells go off in my head.

“Just . . .” He sighs as his eyes dart down to my lips. “I won’t cross your line . . .” His expression is pained, his words hesitant, as I resist when he tries to pull me toward him.

“I . . .”

“Just let me kiss you. It’s been a shit day. Don’t I at least get that much?”

Our eyes meet and this time, when he pulls on my neck, I press my lips to his.

The kiss is gentle in nature when all we’ve ever been is hunger and fire. It’s a slow, seductive touch of lips and tongues and soft sighs of unspoken words.

He stays true to his word and doesn’t try to advance the kiss despite the deep ache I feel that I know he feels too.

It’s just my fingers linked with his against the mattress. Just our mouths moving tenderly at a leisurely pace. Just two people reveling in the simple yet overrated act of kissing.

“Sutton,” he groans and squeezes my hands.

I rest my forehead against his, our panted breaths filling the space between. “I know. I know.”

“It’s probably best if I go back to my cold, lonely bed.” He chuckles painfully.

“Probably.” But when I shift off him, I keep my leg hooked over his thigh and my arm around his waist.

“You have an iron will, Collins, because I’ve gotta be honest, you’re killing me slowly.”

I give a smile he can’t see as we lie like this, tangled together, until his breathing evens out and his soft snore fills the room.

An iron will?

Hardly.