“What do you want me to do?” he yells, frustrated. “I kiss you, you run. You avoid me for a week, then back on the beach I thought you wanted me to do it again, and now…now I don’t know what in the hell you want.”
His eyes are blazing mad, and it kind of makes me want to jump him even more, which is messed up, I know.
“I want…I want something real! I want to rewind time to that morning we met. I want you to have asked for my number, to have asked me out. I want to erase that meeting in my publicist’s office, I want to erase this whole damn farce and just…be with you. No paparazzi, no people watching our every move, just…just us.”
He looks at me with fire in his eyes, his gorgeous chest heaving. Without warning, he scoops me up and runs me over to the bungalow, fumbles with the doorknob, and sets me down on the floor inside.
He takes a deep breath, looking beautifully wild, then cups my face in his strong, callused hands. He looks at me, eyes bright and happy. It’s a look I haven’t seen on him since that night.
River brushes the pads of his thumbs across my cheekbones, looking at me with all the tenderness of a man in love. He leans in and kisses me that way too, soft and sweet, warm and inviting. I cling to his shoulders, needing something to tether me to the ground, and lose myself in the glide of his tongue against mine, the feel of his arms holding me tight.
We kiss for minutes, maybe hours. However long it is, the earth has definitely shifted on its axis. When we part, breathlessly happy, I ask, “What was that?”
He brushes his lips against mine, a little clumsy because we’re smiling.
“Something real.”
That? That’s when I jump on him and all hell breaks loose.
River and I kiss like we’re making up for lost time, we touch each other like nothing’s off-limits. That’s one of the good things about foreplay in swimsuits: you’re already almost naked.
His hands are everywhere. My back, my ass, my stomach. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to touch you,” he says between kisses. “When you were wearing that dress at the premiere, that dress at the cologne party. Hell, even when you were wearing sweats when we were walking Gigi.”
I laugh, then kiss him some more. “So, all the time, huh?” I ask breathlessly.
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Same for me. I’m glad you said it first so I didn’t sound like a weirdo.”
He laughs, then nips at my breast. “By all means, touch me whenever and wherever you want to.”
I let my hand slide beneath his swim trunks and take him in my hand, gliding it just over the tip and making him grunt.
He retaliates by trailing hot kisses along my chest, then traces the outline of my bikini top with his fingers, before gripping the string and ripping it off.
It surprises me more than anything, but he doesn’t waste any time. He cups my breasts, rubs his callused thumbs across my nipples. His hands are rough in the best way, and I want more of them, all over.
My head falls back, and River takes that as an invitation to kiss my neck. “You’re beautiful,” he tells me. “Perfect.” He licks a trail down my chest, across one nipple and then the other, gently teasing it between his teeth.
He picks me up and lays me down on the bed, then makes quick work of kissing all the places he’s yet to explore. My stomach, my hips, my calves. My thighs fall open for him, and he quickly unties my bottoms, pulling the scrap of fabric off and tossing it aside. He teases me a little, curled fingers first, then his mouth heads right where I want it.
His tongue is absolute magic and I quickly lose the thread, bucking up against him so hard that he has to sling his strong arm across my hips to keep me right where he wants me. He doubles down when I grip his hair between my fingers, begging for more. I come with a rough shout, and he tenderly holds my hand as he works me through it, kissing and caressing me as I find my way back down to earth.
I reach for him and he immediately knows what I want, draping his big, warm body over mine, finding his spot in the cradle of my hips. We kiss a little while, just enjoying each other and working up to more. I curl my toes around the waist of his shorts and pull them down, freeing him from the restrictive fabric.
When I reach down and touch him again, he lets out a moan followed by a frustrated grunt.
“I don’t have a condom,” he says, like it’s the most devastating news in the world.
I laugh a little, giddy off of him. “I do, in my bag.”
He heads over to where I dropped it on the floor with a quickness, fumbles around inside like a keyed-up man on a mission.
He pulls out three. “You were feeling lucky, huh.”
I grin and take him in, all six-foot-three of his naked, beautiful body. I want him inside of me now.
“Before you get too carried away, I always have those in there.”
“I don’t care,” he says, ripping one open. “I’m just glad you came prepared.”
He rolls it on, and I lick my lips in anticipation of him. He makes his way back to the bed and crawls over to me, settling back between my thighs with a long, sweet kiss.
“Skye McLane,” he says reverently, curling an errant lock of my hair around his finger. His face is all happy and flushed. “I think I could fall in love with you.”
I go in for a
