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“Stay where you are. I’ll feed both of us.”
He walks to the fire, roasting a stick of marshmallows. When he glances at me, winking, I become aware of the sweaty hair clinging to the back of my neck. In fact, my entire body seems to be covered with a thin sheet of cold sweat. I shiver a little but have no desire to go near the fire again.
“Are you cold?” Alex asks upon returning, watching me rub my arms with my palms.
“A little. I got all sweaty roasting, and now my skin’s clammy.”
Before I realize what he’s doing, he climbs in the rattan globe, sitting right behind me, stretching his legs alongside mine, his inner thighs touching my outer thighs, his chest touching my back. A sizzle replaces the shiver, and I keep my hands in my lap, unsure what else to do with them. I’m wearing a knee-length cotton skirt and a neon-pink top with puff sleeves, but for some reason feel as exposed as if I were naked.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Warming you up and feeding you.”
He takes one marshmallow off the stick, holding it in front of my mouth. I bite into it without hesitation, sighing in delight at the delicious flavor. I lean my head back a little, resting it on his chest. I make the mistake of closing my eyes. When I blink them open again, the stars are spinning in front of my eyes. What the hell? Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alex shove the half-eaten marshmallow in his mouth. Oh God, this feels so intimate. Sitting here, sharing marshmallows. His body is cocooning around mine as if he’s
determined I should never ever feel cold.
I can feel his breath on my jaw and the crook between my jawbone and my neck as he leans to pick another marshmallow off the stick. Shit, his hands seem to shake before my eyes. When he brings the marshmallow in front of my face, I have to grip his wrist to stop myself from seeing double. I bite off half of it, then go back for the rest, my tongue swiping the pad of his finger in the process.
“Summer.” I feel a low groan reverberate in his chest. As if through a haze, I feel the fingers of his other hand digging into my thigh. His chest feels so good against my back. So hard and good. I want to lick every crevice in it, drag my tongue over all those muscles. Looking down, I realize I’ve been shamelessly feeling up his thighs.
Whoops. Where on earth are my inhibitions?
“Baby, how much did you drink?” he asks softly in my ear. Panic rises in my throat.
“What do you mean? The daiquiris were non-alcoholic.” But even as I say the words, I know it can’t be true.
“No, the mojitos were non-alcoholic. The waiter didn’t tell you?”
“Oh God, I don’t know. He might have, but I was so busy with the roasting, I wasn’t paying attention. I heard him say non-alcoholic and assumed it referred to both. I didn’t feel the alcohol.”
“You’re not supposed to in a good daiquiri.”
“I had about four, or six.” And now the effect is slamming into me. “Alex, do you think you could help me to my room? I don’t want anyone to realize I’m drunk... and I don’t trust my legs.”
Or my hands... or any part of my body. My licking his finger and feeling up his thighs very well prove I’m not to be trusted tonight.
“Sure. Do you want me to carry you?” he offers.
Yes, oh God, what an epic chance to feel all those muscles, all that hardness. I could rest my head in the crook of his neck, lick him there, just to check if he tastes as good as he smells.
Whoa, shit! I need to pull myself together. A couple of neurons still seem to function outside the alcohol haze. They’d better keep me from embarrassing myself.
“No, just keep an arm around my waist... in case I lose my balance or something.”
“Okay. Up we go, on the count of three. One, two... three.”
Chapter Eleven
Alex
I draw on fifteen years of acting skills and my popularity with the group to make this look like we’re just going for a walk. I walk with her along the shore, thinking the fresh air will do her good.
“Oh, this is better,” she says, “so much better.” A few steps later, she untangles herself from my grip, running right into the water.
“Summer, no, come back.”
Grinning, she launches herself into a series of backstrokes laps. Does she even know she’s fully clothed?
