Page 85 of The Taste of Deceit

“Mhm.”

After a moment, she turns her head toward me and pats the empty space beside her.

“Come here.”

I cross the room without another word.

The mattress shifts beneath my weight as I climb onto the bed, and before she has the chance to move, I slide an arm around her waist and draw her against me. She comes willingly, one hand settling against my chest as she looks up at me.

“You happy, Baby Girl?”

A smile finds her lips.

“So happy.”

I smile and kiss her, and she pulls me down with her until the rest of the world disappears beneath the feel of her body under mine and the sound of our breathing. Her hands move over my back as the kiss deepens, and when she tugs at my shirt, I help her pull it off before finding her mouth again.

Her dress rides up as she wraps a leg around me, and skin meets skin while we move together, our clothes disappearing one piece at a time. A few moments later, she rolls me onto my back before climbing on top of me, straddling my hips with a small smile as her hair falls around us.

She rocks against me until she finds her rhythm, and I settle my hands on her thighs, holding her there while moonlight and lamplight drift across the bed. Her head tilts back, her eyes half closed, and I don’t look away as the feeling builds between us until we both let go.

Afterward, she settles onto my chest, our breathing gradually returning to normal while we stay exactly where we are, wrapped around each other as the quiet of the night settles over the room.

Chapter 24

Sarah

The next two weeks are exactly what we needed. We spend our mornings on the beach with coffee in our hands, our afternoons bouncing between the ocean and the pool, and our evenings eating way too much food before walking barefoot along the shoreline until we finally wander back to the villa.

We try enough tropical drinks that I eventually stop remembering what half of them are called, order dessert every single night because we’re on vacation and calories don’t count in the Caribbean, and somehow manage to come home with more souvenirs than either of us planned. We also have an absurd amount of sex that I’m not even a little sorry about it.

There are days we don’t leave the villa until lunchtime because neither of us can seem to keep our hands to ourselves, and there are nights we fall asleep with the patio doors open, the sound of the waves drifting through the bedroom while we lie tangled up together afterward.

Some afternoons we stretch out beside the pool with a book neither of us actually finishes, and other afternoons we end up back in the ocean because one of us decides we’re too hot to stay out of it for long. We don’t set alarms, we don’t answer emails, and the only schedule either of us follows is deciding whether we want to spend the day by the beach or by the pool.

By the time the last evening rolls around, I’ve almost convinced myself we actually live here, and the thought of packing a suitcase instead of grabbing another beach towel feels downright offensive.

We linger over dinner longer than we need to, ordering dessert even though we’re both full because it’s our last night, and when we finally leave the restaurant, Luca reaches for my hand before we wander down the wooden steps leading from the terrace to the sand.

The beach is almost empty. The resort sits behind us, glowing softly against the night while the sound of distant laughter fades beneath the steady rhythm of the waves.

The moon hangs low over the water, silver light dancing across the ocean until it disappears into the horizon. Warm sand shifts beneath my bare feet as Luca and I walk side by side, neither of us in any hurry to get back to the villa.

“I’ve had so much fun,” I say.

He looks over at me.

“So have I.”

I smile out at the water.

“I don’t want to go home.”

“We have to eventually.”

“I know.” I let out a dramatic sigh. “I don’t have to like it.”

He brings my hand to his mouth and presses a kiss against my knuckles before letting it fall between us again.