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“Well,” she said as she turned around and headed in the opposite direction, “I suppose since we’re on an island, I would have gotten there eventually.”
Quinn felt his lips twitch. She was like a sweet—and breathtakingly sensual—ray of moonlight on what had been a bleak and chaotic night. He’d never understood how people could allow themselves to float through even one night without a plan, without being completely in control. But in the few moments before she’d seen him in the cove and ducked down in the water to cover herself with the waves, it had been captivating to watch her act like she hadn’t a care in the world, so happy and confident.
As they walked past the boulders and followed the surf toward the lights of the resort in the distance, he said, “I’m Quinn.”
“I’m Shelley.” She smiled at him, another ray of moonlight shining down as she said, “Shelley Walters.”
“I’ve got to ask you, why a solo honeymoon, Shelley?”
“Because dating is a bore, and waiting for a honeymoon might mean I’d never take one.”
“Dating is a bore, huh?” He couldn’t agree more.
For a moment as she turned to meet his gaze, he swore heat flared between them again. But then, she stopped walking, put her hand on her forehead, and shook her head as if she was trying to stave off the effects of the champagne by sheer will.
Quinn remembered that feeling from his college days when he’d had one too many. He had the urge to put his arm around her, to steady her and block her from the bay breeze. She had to be cold in that wet dress. But before he could, she began walking again, each step a little less steady.
“Guys are all about work, sex, and more work,” she continued. “Don’t get me wrong. I really enjoy certain parts of that, but…” She trailed off as she focused on stepping over a large rock in the sand.
She had men nailed down pretty well. He couldn’t dispute her assessment, but hearing it from her made him feel a little embarrassed because the “more work” part hit so close to home. They walked across the sand, listening to the sounds of the bay, her pace slowing considerably as the champagne fully hit her system. She stumbled over another rock, and he reached for her.
“Whoa,” he whispered, pulling her against him before she could fall. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
“Sweetheart.” She sounded almost wistful. Slightly breathless, too, as if being this close again felt as good to her as it did to him. “That sounds surprisingly nice when you say it. Almost like you mean it.” She flattened her palms on his bare chest, fully awakening the desires he'd been trying to push down before he could forcefully bank them. Her words sounded a little more rounded now as she looked up at him and said, “Maybe Taryn is right and an island fling would be fun.”
An island fling?
What had he done to deserve this test? Quinn hadn’t had an island fling in too many years to count, ever since he’d become so consumed with his business that he came back to the island for only a few hours over the holidays, for family gatherings. But a fling with Shelley? Just the thought of it made him want to cancel every meeting he had scheduled for the next week so that he could focus on learning everything about her. Why she'd come to the island. What made her laugh. And, especially, what would make her gasp with pleasure...
“Maybe you should kiss me,” she said, swaying a bit more now. “Just like a real honeymoon.”
Hell yeah, I should kiss you. Not because of any honeymoon, but because you’re gorgeous…and your laughter is the sweetest sound I’ve heard in forever.
He knew he wouldn’t, though, knew he couldn't when the shock of the cold cove water had worn off and champagne was clearly swimming through her veins. He set the champagne bottle down in case she stumbled again.
“Come on. Let’s get you inside.” He settled a hand on her lower back in an effort to guide her toward the porch, her skin hot to his touch despite the wet dress.
Before he could step away, she said, “Well, if you won’t kiss me...”
The next thing he knew, her body was melting against him and she was winding her hands around his neck...and pressing her full, warm lips to his.
It was pure instinct to kiss her back—how could anyone resist a woman this beautiful? This sweet. This sexy.
For a long moment, Quinn was caught up in the heat of their kiss, the smooth dance of their tongues. She kissed him eagerly, tasting of sweet champagne and wicked desires. Her tongue traced his lips and her hands slid into his hair, and he was lost to anything but his need to deepen the kiss, to put his hands firmly on her hips and draw her closer and learn more of her taste, and to drink in more of her little gasps of pleasure as they both instinctively closed the distance between them.
