Ugh. At least this time, she would pass out on a nice soft mattress.
"Call me Ollie," I said for the sake of self-preservation. "Please. That's what everybody calls me."
My sister called me Liver, but she got away with it only because she was fourteen. No force on earth could stop a teenager from inventing insulting nicknames.
"Okay," Mara said. "Ollie."
That wasn't much better, but at least I'd averted a disaster. My dick had stopped twitching.
Until Mara stretched her arms above her head, smiled, and sighed. She flopped backward onto the mattress. "Mm, this bed is wonderful."
And then she glided her hands up and down her form-fitting dress.
Hard-on. Instant. Massive.
Shit, shit, shit.
I turned away from her, like I was about to leave. How could a woman who was terrified of naked people stretch like that right in front of me?
"You seem like you've settled in," I said, hugging the doorjamb to hide my hard-on. "I'll go make some calls to see if I can find a room for you somewhere else."
I made the mistake of glancing at her.
Mara, still lying on the bed, stretched her arms above her head again. "Thank you, Oliver."
Fuck. Would she ever stop saying my name?
I shut the door and ran out of the house.
Chapter Three
Mara
I lay there on the bed for several minutes, luxuriating in the softness of the mattress and the seclusion of this cozy little room inside this cozy little house. Curtains shielded the windows, so I couldn't see if nude people were having an orgy out there. Not that I believed they actually would do that. Ollie had told me this was a family-friendly place, and I believed him. He'd been so sweet and kind to me. Thank goodness I'd found one normal, non-nudist person to talk to at this resort.
He was cute too. And sexy.
I sat up and reached behind me to unzip my dress. Why had I worn this thing? It was tight and made it hard for me to kneel or sit down. I longed to strip it off and put on something comfy.
But I couldn't reach the zipper.
How stupid are you, Mara? Wearing a new dress for the first time when you're traveling.
When I'd bought the dress, the woman in the clothing store had helped me get out of it. Maybe that should've been a clue, but I hadn't been thinking clearly about anything. Get out of town, that's all I'd had on my mind.
I struggled to reach the zipper, contorting my arms into positions that almost hurt, but couldn't quite reach the damn thing. Shit. I flopped back onto the bed, glaring at the ceiling.
Footsteps drew my attention to the open doorway.
Ollie stopped at the threshold with two of my large suitcases and the two smaller ones in his hands, plus the other two big ones under his arms. Panting, he said, "Almost forgot your bags. They were still in the kitchen."
His gaze skimmed over me, and he licked his lips.
I sat up.
Ollie walked into the room and set my suitcases on the floor. "There you go."
He started to leave.
"Wait," I said, pushing up off the bed. "I, um... It's kind of embarrassing, but I need help."
It was completely humiliating, actually.
"Help with what?" he asked.
I hunched my shoulders and pointed at my back. "Can't get the zipper undone."
"Oh." He licked his lips again, his hands curling into loose fists. "I guess I can give you a hand."
"If it's too weird for you, I'll understand."
"No, it's not weird."
He came up to me, gesturing for me to turn around.
I did, but he made no move to unzip the dress. I waited, feeling more anxious with every second.
"Nice dress," he said, his voice huskier. "You look really good in it."
My voice refused to work, but my body warmed, starting with my cheeks.
He took hold of the zipper and eased it down, inch by inch, his warm fingertip grazing my skin. A sensuous tingle trailed down my flesh in its wake, and suddenly, I had trouble catching my breath. When he reached my bra, he pulled his hand away.
"I think you can do the rest," he said, his voice gruffer.
When I turned around, he was staring at me. Lips parted. Chest rising and falling visibly. Eyes darker somehow, probably because his pupils had enlarged.
My breasts lifted with every breath I struggled to suck into my lungs, and I had the most inappropriate urge to kiss him. Cool air teased my skin where the dress gaped open, the sensation making me a little bit crazy. I wanted to touch him. Press my lips to his. Slip my hand inside his pants.
Ollie's gaze wandered down to my breasts, and he scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "I should go make those calls for you."
He moved toward the door.
I rushed forward to grab his arm. "Oliver."
Though he stopped, he didn't turn to look at me.
A reckless urge overtook me, one so irresistible I couldn't prevent myself from doing what my body wanted. I stepped in front of him, caught his face in my hands, and kissed him.
He held stone-still for a few seconds, while I kept my lips glued to his and reveled in the warmth and softness of them. God, his mouth. I wanted it. Now. Wanted him to thrust his tongue between my lips and ravage me.
Instead, he took hold of my upper arms and pushed me away. "This is really not a good idea. You're still freaked out about the naturist thing, and I don't take advantage of vulnerable women."
Of course he didn't. Oliver Jackson was a good man. I'd known that when I screamed and fainted and he'd caught me. Despite my stupid behavior, he'd taken care of me. Maybe I was not quite myself, but I knew I wanted him, and he didn't want me. Rejection felt like crap.
"Sorry," I said, feeling my cheeks heat up, with
