I’ve never felt that kind of protectiveness over anyone in my entire life. It was primal. An unrestrained predator, tearing its way to the surface.
I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe through my nose, forcing my heart rate to slow.
As if my head isn’t already a mess, tonight’s dinner presses into my thoughts. Meadow and I have reservations at The Palms, the resort’s outdoor restaurant, and I know I owe her a real conversation. Not some half-assed apology before I bolt outside for air like a coward.
I’m hoping that by the time we sit down tonight, I’ll have processed everything enough to talk to her. To really open up about why I reacted the way I did.
As much as it kills me to think about ruining our friendship, part of me knows that I need to tell Meadow the truth about how I feel about her.
Because I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive the rest of this week, shoving every emotion down and acting like Meadow’s nothing more than my friend.
If I ever needed proof that she’s much more than that, today was the final nail in the coffin.
I’m standingin the living area later that evening, dressed and ready for dinner. My hands flex anxiously at my sides as I wait for Meadow.
I’ve swapped out my swimtrunks for a lightweight linen shirt, the fabric soft and breathable against my skin, paired with olive-colored trousers that feel just dressy enough without trying too hard.
Hoping to ease my nerves, I take a shot of whiskey from the suite bar.
It’s ridiculous, really. I just saw Meadow a couple of hours ago. Spent the entire afternoon with her. But knowing she’s on the other side of that door, getting ready and carefully choosing what to wear, has my stomach churning with anticipation.
Feeling giddy and restless, I scrub a hand over my jaw and glance toward her door again. I don’t know what I’m expecting exactly, but whatever it is, I know it’s going to knock the breath right out of me.
My heart stops as the door opens.
“My God…”
The words slip out of me before I can even process my thoughts.
Meadow practically tumbles out of her room like a tiny tornado, muttering under her breath as she blows a loose strand of hair off her face. When she looks up, everything in my body stills.
She’s breathtaking.
Angelic, flawless, cute—too perfect to be real.
“Meadow…” I trail off. “You look… incredible.” My voice drops.“Fucking gorgeous.”
Her steps falter. “Oh. Uh—thanks,” she says, suddenly nervous, as she lowers her gaze and looks down her body. Her fingers clasp together, fidgeting in front of her.
“Turn around,” I murmur, unable to help myself, my tone thick with gravel and seduction. “Let me see you.”
She hesitates, eyes roaming over my face like she’s trying to decide if I’m serious or not.
“Do it, Meadow,” I command, my eyes glued to that goddam dress hugging her hips.
She swallows, then turns.
Fuck. Me.
She’s wearing an orange, silk dress that threatens to send me to an early grave. The fabric skims her body as if it were made just for her, designed to fit every curve and dip. The dress is long and elegant, with a slit that climbs high up her thigh.
Thin straps hang over her shoulders, leading to a low V neckline that shows off her soft, sun-warmed cleavage. The sides hang loose, teasing glimpses of her bare breasts, and before she finishes the turn, I see the back—open skin all the way down, her shoulder blades shiny under the warm light.
Her dark hair is swept up and away from her neck, pinned back in a loose, effortless knot that leaves every inch of her on display. Her skin is flushed from the sun she caught earlier today, a personal kiss from the island itself.
“Wow,” I shake my head, knowing my face is giving away every sinful thought in my head.
She bites her bottom lip, clearly unsure what to do with the way I’m staring at her. “I’m guessing that’s a goodwow?”
