“Just think of all the money you’re saving on moisturizer.” He smiled down at her. “Really, I don’t know how anyone can affordnotto live near Florida.”
She wrinkled her nose. “My hotel room is closer than the clubhouse. Let’s go there instead.”
“Is Belle out with her, uh, friend tonight?”
She swallowed hard. “She left this morning.”
His head turned her way. “Left? The room?”
“The island. Her plane should be landing in Boston any time now.”
He slowed. “Weren’t you two supposed to leave at the same time?”
“Yes.” She tugged him back into motion. “That was the plan, but she decided to go home early.”
Her voice sounded thin, but he didn’t seem to notice.
He bent close and pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth. “I’m glad you didn’t leave with her.”
Housekeeping had apparently come and gone in her absence, because the duvets on both double beds were invitingly turned down, chocolates wrapped in gold foil resting on the pillows. Two new water bottles, their sides beaded with moisture, had appeared on the nightstands.
Her laugh emerged as a hiccup. “More chocolates and water bottles for me, I suppose.”
“That’s what you think.” After she lowered herself onto her mattress, Lucas grabbed both bottles and handed one to her. “I’m greedy.”
He opened the other, taking a long drink. Capping it again, he set it on the nightstand, sat down on the bed too, and settled himself against her wooden headboard.
There he remained, arms loose at his sides, eyes on her. In the lamplight, his rumpled hair was edged with gold, the well-honed muscles beneath his thin tee casting shadows across the soft cotton.
That forgiving light erased the damage from years in the sun, and he looked like what he was. An athlete, handsome and vital and…young. So young, when tonight she felt exhausted and dispirited. She might as well have bypassed middle age and hobbled directly into decrepitude. She might as well be four hundred years old.
For a minute, the disorientation of it all stole her words.
Somehow, she’d embarked on an affair withthatman. Her. Tess Dunn.Her. Forty and disheveled and no-nonsense. Practical to a fault. Literally.
Then he held out his arms to her, and she crawled into them without hesitation.
“I’m not usually this tired, not even during my period,” she informed his cotton-covered chest, attempting to nestle closer and closer again to his now-familiar scent and his now-familiar warmth. “This is an aberration, brought on by too many orgasms.”
His chest vibrated with his amusement. “I can fumble a bit more next time, if you’d like. Pretend I can’t find your clitoris. Coming after two or three strokes won’t be a problem either, if I set my mind to it.”
“Oh, God, not that. I take it back.” Spying the gleam of familiar rose-colored fabric on the back of the open bathroom door, she pursed her lips. “Dammit. Belle left her robe. I’ll have to mail it to her when I get back.”
“Is she all right?” He sounded distracted, probably because he was sliding one hand down her spine, toward her ass. “You seemed surprised that she left early.”
Her voice was tight. “She says she’s fine.”
“So she was just homesick?” His shoulder lifted in a half-shrug. “I guess that happens.”
When his mouth lowered to her ear, she moved slightly away. “Not to Belle.”
Her tone was sharper than she’d intended, and he was staring at her, brows slightly raised. Dammit. Yet another fuckup in a day full of them.
“At least this means we can spend more time together in the evenings.” Letting out a slow breath, he gave her backside a gentle squeeze. “I know you were worried about abandoning her.”
“This isn’t something to celebrate, Lucas.” Her neck hurt. Tension, probably. “Not even if it means extra time alone together.”
“I don’t…” His hands lifted from her, and he gave her a little more space. “I guess I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”
