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“What are you thinking so deeply about?” Trace asked, rubbing his hands up and down my arms.
“Nothing,” I responded. “Just enjoying this.”
I smiled to myself, knowing that one more thing could now be crossed off my list. It was amazing, getting to do these things I had been longing to do, but a part of me wondered, when I had completed everything how would I feel? Would I feel satisfied or incomplete? For two years, doing these things was all I had dreamed of, but now that it was happening, what would I do next?
???
I picked up as many seashells as I could find, stuffing them into my pockets, and handing even more to Trace.
“Where are you going to put all of these?” He asked, putting a handful in his back pocket.
“In a jar,” I responded, picking up another with pretty pink and white coloring. “I wish I had a bucket,” I mumbled. “That would be helpful.”
“Maybe Avery has one,” Trace snorted, trailing behind me. “It seems like she packed everything else.”
“Who knows?” I shrugged. “She might.”
Trace held up two large seashells to his chest. “You could make a smokin’ hot bikini top with these,” he joked and did a poor imitation of a hula dancer by shaking his hips. I hated to inform him that hula dancers didn’t wear seashell tops.
I rolled my eyes. “Only in your dreams.”
He grabbed me around my waist, letting the seashells fall to the sand. He tickled my side and I giggled as I tried to wrestle from his grasp. “Come on, Olivia. Make my sexy mermaid fantasy come true. Don’t crush a man’s dreams!”
“Never!” I cried, falling to the ground, laughing as he continued his assault.
Sand covered my clothes and hair, but I didn’t mind, because I was having too much fun.
“Stop!” I pleaded. “Please! Stop tickling me!”
“Only if I get a kiss,” he grinned, causing my stomach to somersault. Trace’s smile was lethal. “And a promise that one day you’ll wear a seashell top for me.”
“Fine!” I gasped. At this point, I’d agree to anything, if he’d stop tickling me.
He stopped tickling my stomach, and I took a moment to catch my breath, before he stole it once more with his lips.
He gazed down at me with a boyish smile. “If this was a private beach, I’d make love to you right here.”
My body tightened at his words and my hips involuntarily jerked against his.
“You’re not serious?” My eyes widened.
He tilted his head, studying me. “I’m very serious, Olivia,” he pressed into me and his erection was obvious.
I swallowed thickly, at a loss of words.
He smirked and rolled off of me.
Standing, he held out a hand, and helped me up. “Like I said, only if it was private,” he winked, wetting his lips. “I don’t want anyone, but me, getting an eyeful of you.” Pressing me flush against his body, he brushed his lips against the curve of my ear, causing me to shiver.
“Let’s finish collecting these seashells you seem to love so much,” he chuckled, letting our previous conversation drop.
When Trace and I had both run out of pocket space, and I was chille
d to the bone, I decided it was time for us to return to our room. We emptied our pockets onto the dining table. Sand spilled out along with the shells. Maid service was going to hate us.
As the last shell fell from my pocket, I shivered and sneezed.
Trace pressed his hand to my forehead. “You’re a little warm, baby. I knew we shouldn’t have stayed outside for so long.” Concern clouded his eyes.
