“Aww, were you worried about me, Hayes?” I splash him again, this time more teasingly.
“Maybe I was.” He eyes me with a hypnotic grin. “Splash me one more time. I dare you.”
I bite my lip, mock-deliberating my options. With a laugh, I lean back into the water, splashing him repeatedly with the kicking of my feet.
“Oh, that’s it,” he says, his voice low but playful.
With that, Hayes tackles me, pulling me down beneath the surface with him. As one of his hands wraps tightly around my ankle, and the other snakes behind my back, I’m suddenly pressed up against him in all sorts of intimate ways. My body reacts before I can think straight, my arms wrapping around those broad shoulders with an urgency I’ve never been able to act on before.
Maren, don’t give anything away.
But then, the strangest of things happens. I feel something long and thick hardening against my thigh.
When we resurface, my arms are still locked around his shoulders, my breasts pressed against his slick, bare chest. Our eyes meet, his whiskey-colored gaze sending a hot rush through me. His fingers squeeze my waist as I’m pressed firmly against his rather impressive erection.
“Hayes . . .”
Abruptly, he removes my arms from his neck. Without his support, I tread water again easily, but Hayes doesn’t stick around.
I rock with the waves of his departure, watching his muscular arms slice through the water as he swims back to the others. He pulls himself up and onto the dock, not pausing even for Holly, who attempts to intercept him on his way back to the house.
What just happened?
9
HAYES
What. The. Actual. Fuck. Bro.
If I were an emoji, I’d be the screaming face with steam coming out of his ears.
There was no denying Maren felt my body’s response to hers. And I could tell the second she did. One minute we were splashing around in the water, and the next, her soft curves were pressed up close as her wet skin made contact with mine. Then it was game over. I needed to put as much distance as possible between us, so I fled without another word or a backward glance.
I stalk up the stairs and slam the door once I’m inside my room.
My dick still so rock hard, I desperately need to jerk off. I tug open the front of my swim shorts and give myself a warning squeeze. I’m gonna blow way too soon at this rate.
But an errant thought stops me dead in my tracks.
What if Wolfie saw me flirting with his sister, and he’s on his way up here right now to confront me? I certainly don’t want him to walk in and see me with my dick in my hand. Talk about being caught red-handed.
With my knuckles turning white as I grip the edge of the dresser, I hang my head and try to breathe. Abandoning my earlier plan, I lace up my swim shorts and blow out another sigh.
Wolfie is a cock block, and he doesn’t even fucking know it. Plus, he invited Holly. It’s a testament to how clueless he is about how I feel about his sister that he thought I’d want Holly here.
Deciding I can’t jack off, I take a deep, calming breath and attempt to give myself a pep talk.
Just get through tonight. That’s all you have to do.
This is fucking torture, and I’m not just talking about my body’s physical response to Maren’s. This entire game is torture. The desire to touch her and tease her until she’s smiling . . . I want it all. But I have no other choice than to pretend there’s nothing happening between us.
Deciding to carry on as though everything is normal, I change into a dry pair of shorts and a T-shirt, then go downstairs and begin preparing food for dinner. When everyone comes back from the water in an hour or two, hungry and slightly tipsy, I’ll have everything ready. Hopefully, the need for food will distract them from asking why I ditched the water.
I marinate steaks and form ground beef into a dozen burgers. But keeping my hands busy does little to calm my mind. I can’t stop thinking about what Wolfie would say if he knew how I felt. Most likely, he’d scowl at me and cite my awful track record with women as the reason why he’d never support the idea of me and Maren.
When I’ve sliced limes and added margarita mix to the blender, the screen door opens and the first few of the crew filter inside. Caleb and Connor are bickering about something, while Scarlett and Penelope are talking about which one is going to shower first.
Holly makes a pleased sound when she sees me working in the kitchen. She was always that way, exuberant about the smallest things. After she steals a handful of potato chips, she thankfully disappears upstairs.
I keep my eyes downcast on my task so I don’t have to look at Maren right now. I have maybe an hour, tops, until everyone remerges freshly showered and no longer sandy, and then I’ll have no choice but to face her. And I have no idea how to apologize for what happened in the water.
“You okay?” a husky voice asks from behind me.
I turn and see Wolfie, his expression impassive. While that’s not abnormal for him, part of me wishes he were smiling, that he’d give me some signal to let me know we’re okay and that he’s not secretly planning my demise. But that’s not Wolfie, and I can’t expect him to change his stripes just to appease my fragile ego.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Fine. Just thought I’d make myself useful.”
I’m stiff and can’t meet his eyes, but Wolfie doesn’t call me on my bullshit. Instead, he just nods.
It’s tradition for me to grill our first night here, so this isn’t out of the ordinary. Me spending all of fifteen minutes at the beach, however, is unheard of.
But Wolfie doesn’t call me on it,
