I shrug. “It was fun. Thank you for inviting me. They seem like a great bunch of people.”
“They are. I’m lucky to call them friends. I did see Prisha talking your ear off. She wasn’t spilling my deep, dark secrets now was she?”
I chuckle. “She may have told me what an awesome guy you are—”
“Clearly, I paid her to do so.”
“Clearly,” I say as her warning ghosts through my mind. As that charm of his pulls me under its spell and I’m left not wanting the night to end.
“Do you feel better about going on the retreat now that you know I’m not a serial killer and everything?”
“Much better,” I murmur. “I’m still not convinced others will buy it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because we live in two different worlds.”
“And opposites attract.” His sigh fills the space. “You’re still hung up on the age thing, aren’t you?”
I open my mouth to speak and then close it, knowing how stupid it sounds when not a single one of his friends looked at me differently because I was older than them. Not once did they make me feel awkward. “I keep telling myself to go with the flow. That no one notices the age difference, but then I think how ridiculous Paul looks with Barbie on his arm, and I get hung up on it. Is that what people are going to see when they see you and me together?”
His silence is accentuated by the crashing of waves, and he tightens his arm around me. “I think they look ridiculous because they try too hard and because she wants everyone to know she’s landed what she thinks is a good catch, only we know different. I think that someone who is secure in their relationship doesn’t need to keep trying to prove to everyone else that they are.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and I tense at the connection—not because I don’t want it but because I don’t understand why it’s so natural to accept it from him. “Am I younger than you? Yes. Does it matter to me? I wouldn’t be sitting here if it did.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that . . . I don’t know what I meant,” I murmur, suddenly feeling stupid. I’m the one who’s older, who should be more mature, and yet, he’s the one showing me it doesn’t matter. None of it does. “I’m sorry. I came down here tonight determined to have a change in attitude, not to care what people think anymore—to be more like you, but I guess old habits die hard.”
“Don’t be like me, Blake. Be like you. Remember our to-do list?” He knocks his knee against mine.
“Yeah.”
“That doesn’t sound very convincing. You’re on a deserted beach with the moon above and a very handsome man at your side,” he jokes. “What more could you ask for?” He rubs his hand up and down my arm. “Let it go. Take the ride. Put your toes in the sand. Howl at the moon. Do whatever it is you want to do so long as it’s in pursuit of finding you again.”
I blink away the tears that well in my eyes. Sure, Kelsie told me similar things, but she’s my best friend, she’s obligated to say stuff like that. But he said it when he didn’t have to. He’s cheering me on like no one ever has.
I nod resolutely. “You’re absolutely right.”
“You’ve never spoken truer words,” he teases, and I hit him playfully as our laughs ring out.
And he is right.
Screw what people think.
My toes are in the sand, now I just need to find the courage to howl at the moon.
He stands, and the night chill assaults my skin again as he begins to kick sand on what’s left of the fire. “We should get going before we get kicked out of here.”
He reaches out his hand to me and pulls me up with a little more force than expected because, when I rise, I find myself off balance. Both of our natural responses kick in, and I brace my hands against his chest as he grabs my hips to steady me.
It leaves us chest to chest, the laugh falling from my lips dying as I look up and see his face inches from mine.
“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Flustered, I try to push against the more-than-firm muscles beneath my palms and take a step back.
But his hands on my hips flex and hold me in place.
“You know you’re going to have to get a lot more comfortable with me touching you if we’re going to pull this off, right?”
“Yes. Sure.”
“Because every time I touch you, you tense up like you’re afraid I’m going to bite.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“We’re going to have to kiss, you know? To sell the lie.”
“We kissed the other day on the street.” I stumble for things to say because, as much as I’ve thought about him kissing me all night, I’m silently freaking out. “I was fine with that.”
His chuckle is barely audible as he tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “No one’s going to buy that we’re hot and heavy for each other if I kiss you like that.”
He rests his hand on the curve of my shoulder so his thumb can slide back and forth over the hollow of my neck. Goose bumps blanket my skin as the waning firelight flickers and dances in his eyes. His smile is soft, seductive, and amused all at the same time.
“I guess not.” My voice is barely a whisper.
“Then maybe . . .” His eyes dart down to my lips and then back up to mine. “Then maybe we should get the first one out of the way so we know what to expect.”
Such a smooth line.
“Maybe we should,” I murmur, my body thrumming with an anticipation that’s equal parts desire and exhilaration.
Such a willing female.
When his lips meet mine, they are both soft and demanding, and
