Page 19 of Sincerely, Mr. Braden

“Yup,” my father says.

As I end the call, Seth says, “Is your dad okay?”

“Yeah. He couldn’t find something. Give me a sec to text Becca and ask her to stop by in case he gets into trouble.” I text Becca and ask her to check on him, and add, Don’t text back. Busy. My phone chimes almost immediately with a text from her. A quick glance shows me a string of emojis—heart eyes, an eggplant, a devil, and three flames. I shove my phone into my purse before Seth catches a glimpse of it.

Seth pushes to his feet and brushes sand from his clothes. He extends his hand and a sexy smile and says, “Dance with me before I kiss you senseless and can’t stop.”

Not stopping sounds incredibly good to me. Guilt trickles in. I should tell him I’m Taylor, but I know it would douse the flames, and I couldn’t bear that. This is only a fling, a once-in-a-lifetime fantasy. Becca’s words come back to me—Use this weekend to play out a fantasy. Go wild with some guy you’ll never see again—underscoring my rationalization.

Clinging to that, I push the guilt away and take Seth’s outstretched hand, and he pulls me to my feet. He slides an arm around my waist, guiding me up the beach toward the other dancing couples. When we reach the mass of swaying bodies, he draws me into his arms, and just like that, I’m exactly where I want to be—wrapped up in him and wanting more.

Chapter Six

Seth

The house went quiet an hour ago, but I didn’t shut down with it. I can’t get Ellie out of my head. I tried working but couldn’t focus. I wore a path in the floor, feeling like a caged animal, and I even tried stretching out on the bed but instead just lay there staring at the ceiling like it might knock some sense into me, and I’m still riddled with thoughts of her.

Dancing was supposed to give me a chance to leash the hunger that was clawing at me after those kisses that left me half-mad with wanting her. But the second she was in my arms, I knew I’d made a mistake. The feel of her soft curves, the sway of her hips against mine, and the lust in her eyes were gasoline on a fire I’d barely held in check.

I shouldn’t have kissed her. I promised myself I wouldn’t cross that line with Taylor’s sister. I don’t want to risk my relationship with Taylor. But when Ellie was sharing what I could tell were long-held secrets, I found myself noticing little things I’ve never paid attention to with other women, like the way her perfume mixed with the ocean air and the way her smile reached her eyes. Then those little things took a back seat to the important ones, the ones that spoke to my heart, like the love in her eyes when she talked about her family, even when she was complaining about her father, and the heartache in her voice when she spoke about her mother. I wanted to go back in time and protect her from that pain. I told myself I wanted to kiss those bad memories away, but that was an excuse. I’d wanted to kiss her before we even got into the limbo line, and after, when she was in my arms for the first time, that desire had magnified. By the time we finished dinner, the urge was too strong to deny.

It was supposed to be one kiss. One taste to get her out of my system.

But fuck. Here I am, restless as hell, needing something—anything—to distract me from the ache of wanting her.

I head out of my bedroom to get a drink. Moonlight slices through the terrace doors as I cross the living room and pour a shot of whiskey, hoping it will take the edge off. I toss it back, and it burns on the way down, but it doesn’t touch the desire gnawing at me.

My fingers tighten around the glass when I hear soft footsteps behind me. I turn, and my fucking heart beats faster at the sight of Ellie, barefoot, wearing a thin sleep shirt that skims her thighs, her hair tousled around her shoulders. Moonlight catches her skin, her eyes, the faint curve of a smile, and every thought I was trying to drown comes roaring back ten times sharper.

I’m no stranger to wanting women, but this is unlike anything I’ve felt before. It’s not just want. It’s a firestorm. The kind of attraction that leaves a man two choices: fight it with everything he has, or get scorched. I’ve never wanted to be burned alive before, but I’d jump into a fucking volcano if it meant getting my mouth on her.

Her gaze flicks to the glass in my hand. “You couldn’t sleep either?”

My throat spits out a rough laugh. “Not a wink.”

She saunters closer, the hem of her shirt swaying with each step, and leans against the bar. “Is there something on your mind keeping you up?”

I set the glass down, holding her gaze. “More like someone. You?”

“Maybe.” Her lips curve, just enough to tease.

Fuck. The air between us snaps and sizzles. The reasons I shouldn’t touch her war with the savage pull to haul her against me and finish what we started. I clench my teeth against that internal battle. “Sweetheart, you keep looking at me like that, and I’ll make damn sure you don’t get any sleep tonight.”

She tips her chin up, defiance shining in her eyes. “That’s big talk, Mr. Braden.”

She’s killing me, standing there in next to nothing, looking at me like she wants me to break every damn rule I set for myself. But my head is so wrapped up in her, I don’t fully trust my judgment, so I lean close enough to feel the heat rolling off her skin and brush my knuckles lightly down her arm, testing the waters. Her eyes darken, her nipples pebble against her flimsy shirt, and her breathing hitches, nearly shredding my restraint.

But she’s still Taylor’s sister.

“We’re playing with fire, sexy girl. I don’t want to screw up my relationship with your brother.”

“I thought gentlemen didn’t kiss and tell,” she says, pure seduction wrapped in challenge.

“Fuck it” roars out of me before reason can step up.

I catch her face in my hands and crush my mouth to hers, fierce and devouring. Our tongues tangle, her hungry moans burning through me like a match strike. Her back hits the bar. “Fuck. Sorry.” She grabs my hair, tugging my mouth to hers, arching into me. I grind against her, earning the sexiest, neediest sounds, and she’s right there with me, her hands moving feverishly over my body, driving me out of my fucking mind. My hands are on a mission of their own, groping her breasts, her ass, the sweet dip of her waist, but it’s not enough, and there’s no slowing down. I push my hand into her panties and growl at the feel of her drenched pussy.

“So damn wet for me.” I push two fingers into her tight heat, and her head falls back with a moan. “Give me your mouth,” I demand.