My stomach rolls and sourness that tastes nothing like ‘fun’ creeps over my tongue. There’s only one friend of Declan’s I’ve seen at the retreat since we arrived.
I glance at Declan, who’s still deep in conversation.
But his companion isn’t looking at him as he talks.
He’s looking at me. And scowling.
Oh, fuck.
“Leave it,” I whisper to Mel.
“He’s been glaring at you all day. What’s his problem?”
I flick my eyes to Woody from where Mel and I are lying on two sun loungers, nursing after-dinner cocktails and watching the sun set. He’s sorting out life jackets the group wore when we went paddleboarding this afternoon.
I’ve felt his eyes on me all day. Even when I haven’t been able to see him, I swear he’s been there somewhere… watching.
His eyes catch mine for a brief second and his signature scowl deepens before he looks away and grabs another jacket. Heat flares over the back of my neck and I swallow.
Please God, don’t let it be him.
“If he didn’t look like that, he’d be super creepy,” Mel quips, sipping her drink.
I sneak another glance at him. At his wavy jet-black hair he wears long enough that it curls above his collar. At his broad, muscular shoulders and biceps that make the cotton of his light gray T-shirt look like it’s about to split.
At the way he fills out the crotch of his shorts.
I narrow my eyes like I’ll be able to spot the telltale signs of piercing outlines, but he turns away, gifting me with the sight of his firm round ass instead.
“Just because someone’s good-looking doesn’t mean they can’t be creepy,” I tell Mel.
“True. But if they’re hot, my mind always goes to the gutter first, instead of the million and one ways they could try to murder me. I like to think positively.”
I snort out a laugh. Blazing eyes snap up to mine across the sand, making it wither on my tongue. He’s not looking at me like a guy who just had amazing sex with me. He’s looking at me like he wishes I’d disappear.
Screw this. I need to know before I go crazy.
“I’m heading to the bathroom,” I tell Mel as Woody walks down a path that leads away from the beach.
“Okay.” She smiles, leaning back on her lounger with a sigh and admiring the golden hues on the horizon.
I’ve no idea where he’s going, but he’s carrying a piece of driftwood as he takes large, determined strides.
By the time I’m close enough for him to hear me call out, we’ve reached an old, dilapidated bungalow that’s missing part of its roof.
“Was it you?” I call, stopping in the middle of the path.
He inclines his head over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he spots me.
“Was what me?”
That voice. So deep and gravelly.
My stomach flutters, and I curse internally. This is Mr. Rude and Abrasive. It can’t be him. Even if his voice is provoking a weird reaction in my body, like it remembers him.
That mouth. That dick. The way he kissed me like nothing else existed except the two of us in that moment.
He arches a condescending brow as I stand with my mouth open like an idiot. Opening the door to the bungalow, he walks inside, so I stomp after him before he can shut me out.
