on desires and steal kisses of her own.
What was she thinking—that would not happen with this guy. Besides, what did he say? Courting? Who said that anymore? Now he wanted to fully freaking date her at the tail-end of a cruise? Did he really think she would fall for this spiel and tumble into bed with him anyway? She started to laugh, nervously, and had to ass-plant back on her chair to keep from doubling over.
"What ails you?" He crouched next to her and skimmed the back of his hand against her forehead. His brow was furrowed as he frowned down at her.
Great, now he thinks I'm batshit crazy or ill. Serena pushed his hand away. "I'm fine. Did you really think that would work?" It was a shame he had to be so attractive. That wisp of stray blond hair at his temple tickled her face in the breeze, and she clenched her fingers together to avoid the impulse to brush it behind his ear. She'd have trouble not thinking about him, about this whole situation, when she returned home.
She wiped her laughter-tears away with her index finger, and then he snagged her hand and brought that digit to his lips. She jerked, and he wrapped his left arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him as she forgot how to do anything more than gawk. Get it together, girl! His tongue was hot on her finger as he licked the moisture away. Why is that so sexy? Why did she have to find him attractive at all?
"I seek to beg your forgiveness, love." As he spoke she nearly nodded, but snapped out of it.
"I'm not your love." Her voice hadn't sounded breathless...had it? The corner of his lips twitched. The bastard knew he'd affected her. Damn.
"Yet." It hung in the air between them—which technically wasn't a lot of space, so it crowded her out.
Serena shoved him back and tried to stand. "Ever." It sounded weak, even to her .
Before she could react, he scooped her up into his arms. She squealed and threw her arms around his neck instinctively, clinging lest she fall. The towel she'd wrapped around herself as a barrier tumbled to the sand. His hands were on her bare flesh, under her knees and where the tankini had ridden up over her waist.
His touch burned her, but in ways that forced her to stay completely still so she didn't arch into it like a cat receiving a good stroke. She continued to gape at him, debating if she should hold tighter or fight. As if her dilemma was written all over her face, his grip tightened. He caressed her thigh above her knee with his thumb and she gulped.
"We shall see," he remarked. Then the barbarian actually started to walk off with her.
She came to her wits and attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, which only made him laugh and hold her closer. She kicked her feet, and he smirked down at her.
"Put me down!"
Christophe shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Cease your struggles. You'll exhaust yourself."
"But..." She peered up at him, at his stunning eyes and chiseled face. A slight cut was healing across his jawline, barely visible behind his scruff. Without realizing why, she reached out and traced it with her finger. His golden stubble was coarse, but the skin beneath it warm. His breath hitched.
"I frighten you." His gaze dipped to her lips, and Serena's cheeks heated in response.
But not from embarrassment. She hated that he could read her so easily. Hated not being outgoing. Hated being afraid of looking foolish or saying the wrong thing. Hated that it mattered to her how people saw her. She didn't care what anyone thought, not really, but it affected her nonetheless. It could be so crippling, disparaging—burdensome. "I can't go with you." Her voice sounded meek, even to her. "It would be rude to ditch my friend."
Christophe glanced back briefly and chuckled. "I think she'll manage."
Serena checked on Becky Ann and found her making out with some guy in the waist deep water. There went her scapegoat. "But..." She was running out of excuses, and the part of her actually curious about what he was
What was she thinking—that would not happen with this guy. Besides, what did he say? Courting? Who said that anymore? Now he wanted to fully freaking date her at the tail-end of a cruise? Did he really think she would fall for this spiel and tumble into bed with him anyway? She started to laugh, nervously, and had to ass-plant back on her chair to keep from doubling over.
"What ails you?" He crouched next to her and skimmed the back of his hand against her forehead. His brow was furrowed as he frowned down at her.
Great, now he thinks I'm batshit crazy or ill. Serena pushed his hand away. "I'm fine. Did you really think that would work?" It was a shame he had to be so attractive. That wisp of stray blond hair at his temple tickled her face in the breeze, and she clenched her fingers together to avoid the impulse to brush it behind his ear. She'd have trouble not thinking about him, about this whole situation, when she returned home.
She wiped her laughter-tears away with her index finger, and then he snagged her hand and brought that digit to his lips. She jerked, and he wrapped his left arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him as she forgot how to do anything more than gawk. Get it together, girl! His tongue was hot on her finger as he licked the moisture away. Why is that so sexy? Why did she have to find him attractive at all?
"I seek to beg your forgiveness, love." As he spoke she nearly nodded, but snapped out of it.
"I'm not your love." Her voice hadn't sounded breathless...had it? The corner of his lips twitched. The bastard knew he'd affected her. Damn.
"Yet." It hung in the air between them—which technically wasn't a lot of space, so it crowded her out.
Serena shoved him back and tried to stand. "Ever." It sounded weak, even to her .
Before she could react, he scooped her up into his arms. She squealed and threw her arms around his neck instinctively, clinging lest she fall. The towel she'd wrapped around herself as a barrier tumbled to the sand. His hands were on her bare flesh, under her knees and where the tankini had ridden up over her waist.
His touch burned her, but in ways that forced her to stay completely still so she didn't arch into it like a cat receiving a good stroke. She continued to gape at him, debating if she should hold tighter or fight. As if her dilemma was written all over her face, his grip tightened. He caressed her thigh above her knee with his thumb and she gulped.
"We shall see," he remarked. Then the barbarian actually started to walk off with her.
She came to her wits and attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, which only made him laugh and hold her closer. She kicked her feet, and he smirked down at her.
"Put me down!"
Christophe shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Cease your struggles. You'll exhaust yourself."
"But..." She peered up at him, at his stunning eyes and chiseled face. A slight cut was healing across his jawline, barely visible behind his scruff. Without realizing why, she reached out and traced it with her finger. His golden stubble was coarse, but the skin beneath it warm. His breath hitched.
"I frighten you." His gaze dipped to her lips, and Serena's cheeks heated in response.
But not from embarrassment. She hated that he could read her so easily. Hated not being outgoing. Hated being afraid of looking foolish or saying the wrong thing. Hated that it mattered to her how people saw her. She didn't care what anyone thought, not really, but it affected her nonetheless. It could be so crippling, disparaging—burdensome. "I can't go with you." Her voice sounded meek, even to her. "It would be rude to ditch my friend."
Christophe glanced back briefly and chuckled. "I think she'll manage."
Serena checked on Becky Ann and found her making out with some guy in the waist deep water. There went her scapegoat. "But..." She was running out of excuses, and the part of her actually curious about what he was
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