His fingers begin to play with the hem of my dress, running the pad of his thumb over the stitching, his calloused knuckles grazing my thigh.
I love the way his touch feels, and I find myself lifting my leg to feel more of it, to get him closer. It’s been so long since I’ve felt intimacy, felt wanted, and I know he wants me.
The question is, can I handle being just a hook up because that’s all I’ll be to Kai? Right now, I like our friendship. I like having him around, surfing with him, having dinner, having him help me out with my disaster of a rental.
Things could all disappear if we sleep together.
“So what do you have planned?” I ask, changing the subject. I need to get away from anything that reminds me of sex or the shit show with Sean.
Although, sex could be the perfect distraction.
Oh my fucking god.
I want to slap myself in the forehead right now.
“It’s a surprise.”
I look over at him, pursing my lips and cocking my head to the side, hitting him with a mock-annoyed look that only makes him chuckle.
“Listen, babe,” he starts, but the second the word falls from his lips, I watch him swallow hard, his throat bobbing with the motion. “Yeah, uh, not going to tell you.” His words come out in a rush. Wetting his lips, he falls silent.
But a few seconds later, we are pulling into the parking lot for the Orchid Bay, and again, I find myself hitting him with a contemplative glance.
He follows the road to the employee parking garage, the arm of the gate going up when it recognizes his parking pass.
“I was just here,” I tease. “You know that, right?” My cheeks begin to ache from smiling, trying to figure out what he has in store. And the more I do, the more I feel like this is stepping over the line from friends to something more.
We’re balanced precariously on the edge and have been for a little while now. I love the flirting and the playful banter we have going, the way he makes my stomach flutter with anticipation and lust.
“I do know that, and while we both work here, it’s one of the best places on the island for something like this.”
“Are we surfing?” I question, and he laughs, hearty and deep. “Surfing? Here? You’re with a local. This is where the tourists surf. We don’t surf here when there’s epic swell in a million other places on this island.”
He sounds arrogant, and there’s something about it that amuses me. He should be arrogant.
I’ve seen him surf, seen his body shirtless, all lean muscle, shoulders flexing with each paddle on his board, abs tense, biceps curling.
The island is his home, away from the hustle and bustle of vacationers, finding hidden gems of greatness among the teal blue waters and lush green mountains.
Surfing is his passion, his home and his way of life. He makes boards, teaches people to surf and lives in the water, but all of this is done with love and intensity and respect for the island.
“I don’t know,” I squeal, finding myself excited by the prospect of something new and surprising.
He parks, and we exit. Coming around to my side, he weaves his fingers through mine. His palm is warm and comforting against my skin.
“Follow me,” he says, his words soft, and I swear I catch a tinge of nervousness in them, but it passes quickly. His air of casual confidence returns as he effortlessly navigates the massive garage.
I’ve only worked here for one day, but the resort is stunning, something I’d love the opportunity to explore.
With its lush local flora and greenery, all white marble flooring and deep-colored wood, it’s a stunning display, and it’s no surprise why people gravitate to it for their vacations.
While having lunch with Sloane today, we joked about how it’s always clean, not a speck of dirt to mar the white tile, not a bug within an inch of the open-air lobby. A human-created utopia that people pay thousands to enjoy.
It’s the kind of place Sean would have visited while off tour, but failing to bring me along, claiming he needed alone time to recover.
He was fucking other women.
That I know now.
