it’s the light smattering of chest hair or the way his shoulders are wide but his waist tapers. Or maybe it’s the way he is with his brother or that it bothered him to leave me at a hotel. I lick my lips and look up at him. Without heels, I’m small enough that he could rest his chin on the top of my head comfortably.
I try to stay on topic. “I don’t think I can afford to not have quick reflexes. All women should know a little of what I know.”
“I guess it could come in handy on occasion.” He nods while stretching each arm behind his head. His pecs jump and give in to the long stretch. I meet his gaze and try not to lick my lips.
“Occasionally? Ha, try frequently. It doesn’t matter how a woman dresses or what she’s doing. She could be a target simply by smiling at the wrong person. I work from a premise that I might always be a target, so I’ve prepared myself to know how to handle any situation.”
“You’ve had that happen to you before?”
“Pricks like that are everywhere.” That’s an understatement.
His brows shoot up and I know it’s at my word choice. I’ve seen the type of girl he likes. She’s the type who pretends to not use profanity, but give her a strong drink and a room of her girlfriends and it’s a whole different story.
“You headed to the beach?” he asks, indicating with his head to the water that waits just past the boardwalk.
“Yeah, you?”
“Yeah, I like to cool off in the water.”
“Well if we stand here any longer you won’t need to cool off.” I take several steps back and stretch my hand out, reaching for the bike’s seat and something to ground the electrical current sparking between us, yet am unable to pull my eyes from his.
“I can watch your stuff for you,” I say in a breathy voice.
“What?” He blinks several times.
We’re shrouded in a cloud of lust, and the palpable air and erratic, loud beating of my heart makes sound muffled. It’s good to know he’s experiencing it too.
“Your phone and shoes. If you’re going for a swim I can watch those for you.”
“Got it.” He gestures for me to precede him.
I lock up the bike with clumsy fingers then scoop out my bag of stuff from the basket. When I pass him the energy around us crackles.
I find a spot on the beach, kick off my flip-flops, and drop my bag on top of them. After laying out my towel, I shimmy out of my shorts and pull off my T-shirt, leaving me standing before McRae in nothing but a skimpy red and white polka dot bikini.
He stares at the art across my belly; his gaze travels along the path then dips below the top of my bikini bottom and holds.
“OK, I’m ready,” I say and his pupils dilate.
If there weren’t a smattering of families around us, I’d jump him right here and now. There’s little doubt he’d stop me.
“I beg your pardon?” he asks, his eyes jerking back up to mine.
“For your stuff.” I sweep my eyes across his finer-than-fine form. “I’ll put it with mine. In my bag.”
“Right,” he says and gives a small shake of his head. “My stuff like my phone and watch.”
I nod and step back to my towel, where I lower myself down and stretch out.
He kicks off his shoes, drops his phone on my bag, and jogs to the water, diving in when he hits the spot where the waves break. Knowing his attention is on his swim, I fan myself. Embarrassed that such a simple exchange of words combined with his presence could make me weak in the knees.
After the third buzzing from his phone, I turn it off.
By the time he’s done with his swim and coming out of the water like some Adonis kissed by the sun gods, I’ve moved on to a paperback, but I’ve read the same paragraph three times. My attention was focused on him. I slam it shut and clutch it tight, using it to steady me.
“Have a good swim?” I ask as he reaches for his things.
“I did. That a good book?” Beads of water evaporate off him. Others rest in the hills and valleys of his defined
I try to stay on topic. “I don’t think I can afford to not have quick reflexes. All women should know a little of what I know.”
“I guess it could come in handy on occasion.” He nods while stretching each arm behind his head. His pecs jump and give in to the long stretch. I meet his gaze and try not to lick my lips.
“Occasionally? Ha, try frequently. It doesn’t matter how a woman dresses or what she’s doing. She could be a target simply by smiling at the wrong person. I work from a premise that I might always be a target, so I’ve prepared myself to know how to handle any situation.”
“You’ve had that happen to you before?”
“Pricks like that are everywhere.” That’s an understatement.
His brows shoot up and I know it’s at my word choice. I’ve seen the type of girl he likes. She’s the type who pretends to not use profanity, but give her a strong drink and a room of her girlfriends and it’s a whole different story.
“You headed to the beach?” he asks, indicating with his head to the water that waits just past the boardwalk.
“Yeah, you?”
“Yeah, I like to cool off in the water.”
“Well if we stand here any longer you won’t need to cool off.” I take several steps back and stretch my hand out, reaching for the bike’s seat and something to ground the electrical current sparking between us, yet am unable to pull my eyes from his.
“I can watch your stuff for you,” I say in a breathy voice.
“What?” He blinks several times.
We’re shrouded in a cloud of lust, and the palpable air and erratic, loud beating of my heart makes sound muffled. It’s good to know he’s experiencing it too.
“Your phone and shoes. If you’re going for a swim I can watch those for you.”
“Got it.” He gestures for me to precede him.
I lock up the bike with clumsy fingers then scoop out my bag of stuff from the basket. When I pass him the energy around us crackles.
I find a spot on the beach, kick off my flip-flops, and drop my bag on top of them. After laying out my towel, I shimmy out of my shorts and pull off my T-shirt, leaving me standing before McRae in nothing but a skimpy red and white polka dot bikini.
He stares at the art across my belly; his gaze travels along the path then dips below the top of my bikini bottom and holds.
“OK, I’m ready,” I say and his pupils dilate.
If there weren’t a smattering of families around us, I’d jump him right here and now. There’s little doubt he’d stop me.
“I beg your pardon?” he asks, his eyes jerking back up to mine.
“For your stuff.” I sweep my eyes across his finer-than-fine form. “I’ll put it with mine. In my bag.”
“Right,” he says and gives a small shake of his head. “My stuff like my phone and watch.”
I nod and step back to my towel, where I lower myself down and stretch out.
He kicks off his shoes, drops his phone on my bag, and jogs to the water, diving in when he hits the spot where the waves break. Knowing his attention is on his swim, I fan myself. Embarrassed that such a simple exchange of words combined with his presence could make me weak in the knees.
After the third buzzing from his phone, I turn it off.
By the time he’s done with his swim and coming out of the water like some Adonis kissed by the sun gods, I’ve moved on to a paperback, but I’ve read the same paragraph three times. My attention was focused on him. I slam it shut and clutch it tight, using it to steady me.
“Have a good swim?” I ask as he reaches for his things.
“I did. That a good book?” Beads of water evaporate off him. Others rest in the hills and valleys of his defined
Similar Books
