Page 132 of Sour Notes

Holding my breath, I lift her off the side and lower her into the water in front of me, careful to keep her far enough away to avoid indecent exposure.

Best laid plans and all that.

She didn’t get that memo though, taking me by surprise when her arms curve around my waist and she presses her beautiful face into my chest.

“Thank you, Swayze, this is really sweet.”

She springs back, cheeks flushing, the second her thigh brushes against my—what’s the opposite of a floatation device?

“You need to eat.” I step back, voice a solid octave lower than considered polite over breakfast with friends.

Redirecting my attention away from the sight of her teeth sinking into her plush bottom lip and onto safer topics, I pull the tray over to us and start uncovering the food. They’ve even added a little bottle of hand sanitizer to the tray, which is a nice touch.

“Brings a whole new meaning to five-star luxury, right?” I wiggle the bottle at her before spraying my hands.

Really, bro? Your big flex is antibac?

“Sure does.” She laughs, taking it off me, repeating the motion.

“It all looks so good. Thank you, Swayze. What prompted this little treat? Not that I’m complaining.” She’s smiling widely and a lesser man would think she was thrilled, but I can see the nerves clear as day in her eyes.

Is she nervous because this is too much and she doesn’t want to reject me again?

Or because she might be starting to want what I’m offering on a literal heart-shaped pool tray and it scares her?

I gotta be smart here. I don’t want to send her running for the hills again.

“No reason. I was hungry, thought you would be too. I didn’t realize the only in-room option was a floating one, though. That’s new.” I shrug, super chill. The exact opposite of how I am around her.

Laughing in relief, she grabs a croissant off the tray and takes a bite, a moan ripping out of her throat and hitting me square in the dick.

Oh, come on. Have some fucking mercy.

I grab the first thing my hand lands on and cram it in my mouth. Of course it’s some kinda raisin bun, and I hate raisins.

“I thought you ha—never mind.” Mia shakes her head, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

You idiot.

“It’s good.”

Lie. It tastes like a shriveled nutsack—not that I make it a habit of eating those.

She laughs, shaking her head again. My girl knows me, she can see I’m lying through my damn teeth.

“Try the croissant, they’re to die for. You’ll love it.”

Leaning forward, our gazes lock while I sink my teeth into her flaky pastry and take a bite.

“Shit. Yeah, you’re right.” I moan, head lowering on instinct to take another.

“Hey no, that was a one-time offer. Get away.” Squealing, she backs up and slips, but I launch into action, thanks to my quick reflexes, and haul her into my arms before she and her pastry get dunked.

“Thanks for the assist, even if it was your fault to begin with, you turd!” She slaps me on the shoulder with a laugh, looking entirely unaffected despite every inch of her skin now pressing against mine.

“You’re welcome. Now about my reward…” I murmur, voice gruff.

Her eyes drop to my lips again, only for a second, but it’s enough to heat my blood.