She rocks forward, and I feel her heat through the thin fabric as she grinds against me. I break the kiss to drag my mouth along her jaw and down her throat. She tilts her head back, offering more skin, and a soft moan escapes as my teeth graze her racing pulse.
“Fuck, Sienna,” I breathe against her flushed skin. “You taste like trouble.”
“The best kind, I hope.” She whispers, breathlessly.
Gently cradling her cheeks, I press my lips back to hers and kiss her again, slower this time. Deeper. More deliberate. Her hips roll again, teasing. I groan, gripping her ass, pulling her harder against me.
She breaks away from the kiss first, gasping, forehead pressed to mine. “I don’t want to mess this up,” she whispers. “I don’t want to go too far before my brain catches up with… whatever this is.”
I nod, even though every part of me is screaming to keep going. “Yeah. I get it.”
She kisses me again, and when she pulls back, her eyes are bright and almost vulnerable. “But I really don’t want to stop either.”
“Neither do I,” I brush a damp curl off her cheek. “Not even a little.”
She stays on my lap a moment longer, fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest. Then she sighs and slowly shifts back. “I should probably go to bed before we both do something we can’t take back.”
I nod, jaw tight. Every cell in my body hates this decision. “Yeah. Go to bed, Sienna.”
She stands, water streaming down her body in rivulets, and gives me one last lingering look before slipping out of the hot tub and heading inside.
I stay in the water long after she’s gone, letting the bubbles and the cool night air try to calm the fire she just ignited inside me.
It doesn’t work.
I don’t think anything ever will.
Suddenly, the countdown to flying back home no longer feels like a deadline… it feels like the beginning of something new. Something worth fighting for. Something extraordinary.
Chapter Thirteen
Sienna
I practically fleethe hot tub, water pouring off me in heavy sheets that cool too quickly in the night air. Steam rises from my skin like smoke, but I don’t dare look back at Milo.
If I see the way he’s staring at me—dark eyes burning with barely leashed hunger—I won’t be strong enough to walk away.
My heart is still hammering from the kiss. My lips feel swollen and tingling, still tasting of him. My entire body feels electrified, every nerve raw and screaming. Between my thighs, I’m aching so badly it’s almost painful.
God, what the hell did I just do?
One minute we’re talking about this being “fun only.” No feelings. No complications. But the second I climbed onto his lap and kissed him, something inside me snapped.
I kissed him like I was starving. Like I needed him more than air. My body completely took over—hips grinding down on his hardness, fingers buried in his hair, moaning into his mouth like a woman possessed.
That wasn’t just a kiss.
That was desperation.
That was want so intense it terrified me.
Goosebumps rise all over me. I wrap my arms around myself and hurry to the bathroom, thighs slick not just from the hot tub. Every step reminds me of how perfect he felt between my thighs.
I catch my reflection in the mirror and almost don’t recognize myself. Cheeks flushed deep pink, lips kiss-bitten and swollen, eyes glassy with lust. I look wrecked.
Is it so bad that I want to turn around and go back out there and do it all over again?
But I can’t. Not yet. Not when my brain is still three steps behind my body, waving red flags and yelling “abort mission” while my thighs are still remembering exactly how it felt to have Milo hard between them.
