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But my goading didn’t work the way I expected. Rylee didn’t snap at me or even roll her eyes.
She decided to prove me wrong.
Standing carefully, she first set her camera in a safe, dry spot, then unbuttoned her uniform shirt and pulled it off, revealing a white lacy bra. Then, I watched with a hungry gaze as she shimmied out of her pants.
Her panties were a bright red color, surprising the hell out of me, and I couldn’t help thinking that it showed there was more than one side to this woman. She wasn’t just a slightly uptight flight attendant with a purity about her displayed in her choice of bra. She was also wild, sensual, and hopefully as kinky as her red panties suggested.
I knew that I was probably reading too much into lingerie, but the sight of her like this jumbled my thoughts. She had luscious curves, her skin was smooth, and my fingers itched to touch her, to feel her warmth and softness.
Not that I would do that.
Well . . . unless she asked me to.
Andfuck,I wanted her to ask. It wasn’t going to happen, but that didn’t stop my cock from growing hard at the thought of running my hands all over her alluring body.
I let my eyes scan her from head to toe, taking in every inch, and my blood ran hot in my veins. Her body was shapely in all the right places, with long, slender legs and firm, full breasts. I was probably way out of line, but I couldn’t help thinking she was built perfectly for me. I wanted to feel her body wrapped around mine while I thrust deep between those perfect thighs of hers.
Rylee executed a perfect dive into the deep end of the water, and I watched as she swam over to the waterfall. When her head broke the surface, she had a serene smile on her face as she held her hand out, letting the gentle waterfall glide over the tips of her fingers.
It struck me in that moment that I was drawn to her in a way that I’d never felt before with anyone else—probably because she was the opposite of the sophisticated women I normally dated who looked at me and saw dollar signs. Billions of them.
Was the attraction real? Or just the result of shared trauma?
I wasn’t sure, but I knew that I wanted to take her to bed while we were on this island together and find out.
CHAPTERFIVE
Rylee
After I swam in the lake with Hayden, he gave me his shirt to wear so that I wouldn’t have to put my dirty uniform back on. It felt weird to walk around without pants on, but I just told myself that Hayden was right. The bikini I wore around the pool at my apartment complex was more revealing than the lingerie I was currently wearing.
It was part of the reason that I didn’t dig my bikini out of the suitcase to put on before I swam. That, and the fact that I would have had to strip down to nothing to put it on. I wasn’t sure that I trusted Hayden enough to do that, even if I did go off into the woods to get out of his line of sight.
As for now, his shirt fell to my mid-thigh, so I wasn’t too exposed.
He was the one walking around with his entire upper body on display. The warm sun glinted off his rock-hard abs, still wet from our swim. I couldn’t stop glancing at him out of the corner of my eye as we walked along the beach.
It was no surprise that he was so well-built, but the tattoos weren’t what I expected. They shifted my perspective of him as a stuffy businessman to more of a bad boy.
And that was just my type.
Not that I liked him in that way. Not at all.
I finally relented and allowed him to carry my suitcase for me, but my camera was still around my neck, and I kept pausing to snap pictures of everything beautiful that I saw.
There were colorful pieces of sea glass on the beach, with its smooth edges and frosted surface. I’d heard of it before, but this was my first time seeing it. I kept picking up all the ones I spotted because they were so pretty.
“We’ve always had that stuff wash up on the shore here,” Hayden commented as I found a fifth piece.
All the ones I’d found so far were small and beautiful, each one unique in some way. “And no one collects it?”
“I honestly don’t know what we’d do with it.”
“Well, I’ll take them home to my roommate,” I said, rubbing my thumb over one of the stone’s smooth surface. “She’ll love it and will probably make a picture frame or something with them. She’s the artistic type.”
“And what about you?” he asked. “What type are you?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, turning to look at him and finding that he was already watching me with a speculative expression.
