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My mouth grows dry at the sight.

He pushes back a lock of his hair, but it falls right back into place, hanging on his forehead. “You’re staring, Princess.”

“I don’t care,” I murmur, shifting in the sand to try to alleviate the ache between my thighs. All the blood in my body seems to have rushed right there.

He stalks toward me and grabs my hand again. “Good. Me neither.”

I glance around as we walk briskly to the car, expecting to see more of Beau’s security team, but they seem to have blended themselves into the scenery.

When we reach the blacked-out SUV, Beau yanks open the car door and just about shoves me inside. Faraday is nowhere to be found, and I say a silent thank-you for that. Because if he was here, I might let myself overthink again. Might think about people and arrangements that I don’t want to right now.

I don’t want to think at all.

I just want to feel.

Feel what I felt in my dream. What I’ve been thinking of my entire adult life and denying myself of.

Beau climbs in after me. The moment the door is shut behind us, sealing us away from the world, he hauls me into his lap. I wrap my legs around him, my dress short enough that stretched like this, it rides so high up my thighs my panties are almost exposed.

Beau glances down, and when he looks back at me, his eyes are hooded and full of heat. He looks at my lips like they’re something to be savored.

I cup his face. The stubble I’d seen earlier is scratchy against my palms as I trace my thumbs back and forth, relishing the sharp angle of his cheekbones. I wanted to touch him like this on the roof but didn’t allow myself to then.

But I don’t care now.

I bring his face to mine and kiss him. It’s gentle at first, soft and delicate like our first kiss. But then his hands slide from my waist down to my thighs, thumbs kneading my flesh, and it unleashes something in both of us.

I open my lips the same time he does his. We kiss and touch and grind our hips together in a frenzy. I can’t get enough of the taste of him, the sounds he makes when I nibble on his lip, the tightness of his grip on me like he never wants to let me go.

We break apart for a moment, catching our breath, but it doesn’t stop our roaming hands. I push his shirt up, exposing his chest to my touch. His smooth skin is taut over the muscles leading down to the waistband of his pants. When I trace each line with my finger, Beau slams his head back against the rest, jaw tight as he tries to keep control. I want to lick the saltwater off his skin, but he doesn’t give me the time to.

He moves his hands from my hips to my breasts. They’re a hot brand against my aching chest, so full, so heavy.

I slip my arms out of the sleeves of my dress and let the top fall to my waist.

“Fuck, you weren’t wearing a bra this entire day?” Beau groans as he watches my nipples peak, now exposed to the air, before diving forward to pull one into his mouth.

I arch toward him, relishing in the feeling of his hot mouth against the sensitive bud. “I didn’t need one,” I gasp.

He nibbles it softly, before sucking hard. I cry out, letting my head fall back.

My breast falls free. “Too much?” he asks.

I vehemently shake my head. “No, no, keep going.” I run my fingers through his damp hair and pull his face closer again.

He chuckles but obliges, giving me what I want as he continues kissing, squeezing, playing with one breast before moving to the next. I grind against his lap, my core pulsing with everything he does, and I can feel his hard cock through his pants.

The idea of him being as turned on as I am, that he’s turned on by me, it’s enough to almost make me explode.

I whimper, clawing at his shoulders and arms. I need more.

Beau releases my nipple, cups my jaw, and slams his mouth to mine at the same time that his hand slips under my dress. One of his fingers traces the seam of my panties.

He groans against my mouth, and I wonder if he can tell that they’re not just wet because of the ocean, but because of him.

I feverishly kiss him, tangle my tongue with his, and picture what it would be like between my legs instead. The idea is as terrifying as it is exciting.

His finger drags back and forth on the lacy band. Taunting, teasing.