me, alone, in here? With you wearing that? Don’t tempt me.”
Tempt him? Really? He’s the one who gave me the bathing suit. It appears that for the past day all I’ve been doing is tempting him. He groans when I come too near or when I look at him a certain way, and he is always muttering under his breath that I’m going to be the death of him. And yet he knows I would let him do whatever he likes. But he still insists on torturing himself, and nothing I say seems to change his mind.
He thinks he’s the only one being tortured by this. Sure, I’ve come. He explored me so well the other night that he knows my body like it’s his own, and his touch has a way of setting off fireworks instantly. But I want more. He knows exactly what I want.
And the bastard won’t give it to me.
No, instead, he’s intent on driving me insane.
We go out to our private lanai, and I sit under the shade of the palm trees, gazing at the aqua water, while he goes for a swim. I watch him in the water, the beautiful curves of his broad back, the way he moves, like a panther stalking its prey, the way the sun clearly adores every last inch of him. It’s hot and sticky, and yet he gives me cold, chilly goose bumps.
He comes back while I’m curled up on the lounge chair, finishing up Les Mis. “Come in with me. It’s warm.”
I shake my head, thinking of the way Courtney called me a flailing insect in the water. “I don’t really swim.”
He sits down beside me. Droplets of water create a mosaic on his skin, and I desperately want to lick them off, to taste the salty sweetness of him. “What’ll you do if we have a swimming challenge tomorrow?”
I give him a grin. “Let you handle it?”
I go back to my book, but he’s there, silent. When I look up, he’s staring at me, silently discerning, his gaze so intent it nearly takes my breath away.
“What?” I motion to the ocean. “Even if I went out there now, there’s no way you’d be able to teach me to swim in an hour.”
“Right. Like there’s no way you can come, either, baby.”
Well, isn’t he cocky? I scowl at him. “We have to get ready for the luau.”
“We don’t got to get ready. The producers said we can wear our bathing suits.”
I cringe.
“So, sweetheart, you’re out of excuses.” He studies my face, and I can see where recognition dawns. “Oh. So that’s it. You don’t want anyone to see you?”
I point down the beach at the two cameramen who are lurking there. “That’s right.”
He goes inside and comes back with one of his balled-up T-shirts, which he tosses to me. “Then put this on. Don’t let stupid shit get in the way of you living life to the fullest.”
I can’t argue with that. I pull his massive shirt onto my body, inhaling the heavenly scent of him as I make my way down the white sand. He’s right. The water is warm and relaxing and perfect. It’d be more perfect if the cameras weren’t here. He even gives me a few stroking tips that make me feel less like a drowning insect. But he’s careful not to touch me or do anything that might get on camera, which I guess is a good thing.
It’s also driving me insane.
“You’re right. The water was great,” I tell him when we get to the luau.
It’s right on the beach, not far from the cottages. Again we’re given leis. The sun is setting and the sky is orange, and the salt feels tight but not unpleasant on my skin.
They’re serving mai tais, so we each take one and sit down as lilting ukulele music plays. Women with flowing hair are wearing grass skirts and hula dancing.
“I could get used to this,” he says, sipping his drink as we wave to the other competitors, who are all watching the show. He has a new tan and looks even more delicious in this light. The island lifestyle definitely agrees with him. To think, not so very long ago I thought he was a thug. Now he’s so sexy it physically hurts me to look at him, knowing he’ll probably deny me what I want.
We listen to the music a little, and meanwhile, the sun sets, leaving a sky full of pink streaks. We’re served