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Though if she was going to start thinking like Bronte told her to…Yes, she loved him,andit could be something wonderful.
She could love him loudly and openly and without reservation or time limits. They could figure out how to make it work; all she had to do was say the words. Yet as he picked up his head, his eyes shining with passion and appreciation and something that she thought looked an awful lot like love, her words lodged in her throat, right where he kissed her.
The only thing she could get out was, “Need you.”
He breathed heavily against her ear. “I know. I know.”
“Please, I need you.”
He nipped at her jaw then gently rolled her to her side. Behind her, she heard the familiar sound of a condom wrapper ripping open before his hands returned to her. He curled one arm under her neck, the other over her hip and between her legs.
He stroked her languidly, sucking at her shoulder, but it wasn’t enough. “More.”
He was pressed up against her back, and she could feel the hair on his chest, the muscles along his torso, his erection against her backside, and she ground against him. “Please.”
He flattened two fingers against her clit, teasing at her ache, and she arched against him. “Harder.”
“I know what you need,” he said against her neck.
She reached her arm up, holding on to the back of his head. “I know, but…”
“If you know, then let me give it to you.”
Sam nodded and turned toward his arm curled around her, kissing his bicep. She would let him give her what she needed. She may have needed practice saying the words, but she could show him how much she loved him, and how she trusted him to love her back.
“Samantha,” he whispered, dipping his fingers inside of her, “I…”
“I know,” she breathed, her voice barely audible. Her skin flushed; her pulse thrummed all over. “I know.”
When his fingers left her, she whimpered, and he kissed her jaw. She could swear she felt his heartbeat against her back—it was beating as fast as her own—and he guided himself into her before curving his hand around her thigh to lift it up.
Every morning, they’d done this, had slow, lazy sex, but never quite like this, speaking with only their breaths and kisses. They’d played and laughed, experimented and explored, but this was different. As if this wasn’t just fun. This was important. It was special.
As he rolled his hips to deepen his thrust, she laid her hand on top of his, interlocking their fingers. “It feels…”
“I know,” he said, all lips and teeth, and he crushed her to him so there was no space between them, except for the one thing yet to be spoken aloud. And when they both fell over the edge together, she wrapped his arm around her middle, pressing his palm to her chest so he could feel what she did. Love.
* * *
It waseveryone’s last full day on the island. Chris and Bronte were going to stay for their honeymoon, but as all their guests sat down to their last meal together, it was decidedly more subdued. The brood of children that Bronte’s siblings brought along looked and sounded exhausted. The adults weren’t much better. A lot of sunburned shoulders and hushed, hungover voices.
Sam held Mike’s hand as they made their way to the restaurant for brunch, walking on sunshine and unicorn glitter, despite the sleep exhaustion.
“You look chipper this morning,” Laney noted, sipping on a mimosa.
“Blindingly so.” Gem held her head in her hands as Jason rubbed her back.
“She puked up her intestines last night,” he explained, nudging the water glass closer to her.
Brunch was spread out among the tables, shrimp cocktail, fresh pastries, mini quiches, flatbreads, salads, and little skewers with salmon, potatoes, and dill. Sam filled her plate as Mike looped his arm around the back of her chair, pushing the fruit plate toward Gem. “Eat the citrus. They’re high in vitamin B, good for hangovers.”
Sam was tempted to boop him on the nose for being so cute and smart, and she knew it was irrational, but being in love really did feel like she was in a cartoon. This time, there were no roadrunners and anvils, only a heart beating out of her chest and an urge to keep her mouth permanently attached to Mike’s.
Interrupting Sam’s daydream, Gem dropped her hand to the plate for a slice of grapefruit. Putting it in her mouth, she mumbled, “I hate grapefruit.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have—”
She swung her head up to Jason so fast, her sunglasses almost flew off. “That’s how you want this day to go?” He tipped his head to the side, appearing to choose his next words, but Gem cut him off. “My best friend got married last night.”
