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“Is there anything I can do to help?”
My lips form a thin line, and the temptation to say something biting is intense. But like the adult I am, I tamp it down. “Nope, I got this.”
“If you say so.”
Those words grate on my damn nerves. So typical of a Reynolds to think they know everything.
She sits back down, and I go to work, silently cursing her proximity and the fact I can't stop thinking about her wet.
7
Mallory
@Stargossip: An insider has shared that the location is remote and lacks proper accommodations. The talent is sleeping under the stars . . . literally!
@suckstocry: And this is news?
@SavageTurtle: I'd sleep anywhere with Teagan Steward!
@Deathtothesystem: The whole industry should burn.
This trip might very well be the death of me.
The heat in my cheeks has not abated since realizing that all my goods were on full display to the two surly men on the boat.
Paxton was practically staring daggers at me while the captain was accosting our only transportation with a screwdriver.
You can’t make this stuff up.
Finally, after an hour, we’re back en route to the island, and I couldn’t be happier.
Paxton gave me his shirt, and I’m no longer cold and wet, but other problems have arisen.
His shirt barely falls to my upper thighs, leaving my legs on full display. The captain has not stopped staring, which is a hazard, considering he’s supposed to be driving. I feel as exposed as I did before. The only upside is that I’m warmer.
The bigger problem manifests itself as Paxton. Since we’re on the water in the middle of nowhere, in a boat that doesn’t seem to be working properly, replacing his missing shirt doesn’t appear to be high on his priority list.
And why is that a problem, you may ask yourself.
I’ll explain. Gladly.
I’ve spent the last hour trying desperately not to stare at him. On top of not having access to my clothes, I apparently forgot my damn sunglasses, as well, leaving me open to being caught.
This mission to ignore Paxton . . . yeah, I'm failing horribly.
Even though he's probably the biggest prick I've ever met, I can't stop the way my heart beats a little faster when he's nearby. Nor can I silence the voice inside my head, wondering what it would be like to kiss him again. To have him trail his fingers along the same path his eyes wandered earlier.
His face was stone. No emotion while he perused my body unabashedly, and that left me vulnerable beyond measure. He saw nothing of interest. Meanwhile, I'm practically panting at his bare chest.
My body and mind are damn traitors.
Let's just say a shirtless Paxton Ramsey should be illegal.
Every time he moves, his muscles flex, and now that he's standing in front of me, I can really appreciate the view. Luckily for me, he hasn't noticed my thorough inspection. He's too busy making sure the boat will be okay.
What a fun option that could've been. Something to keep me entertained on this work trip. A fun island romp to break up the shit I'm about to deal with.
If only he weren't a complete asshole.
Made only worse by the fact that I shouldn't want him, yet I do.
Not that anyone could blame me. He is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, and that was my opinion of him before he removed his shirt.
As the boat takes off, cutting through the water, I change locations so that this time I don't get the splashback from the wave. It also means I'm sitting much closer to him.
I can't avoid it.
“Changed seats.” It isn't a question. More like an observation he's making out loud.
My face scrunches up as I watch him war with himself.
For goodness’ sake . . . is it that much of a hardship to simply sit by me?
Finally, he nods as though he’s telling himself everything will be fine, and I want to throw something at him. He takes the seat across from me, which might've been the worst decision. At least beside me, we wouldn't have to look at each other.
We both do our best to look anywhere but at each other. My gaze focuses on the horizon. Neither of us says a word, and that's fine by me. I'll enjoy this last bit of peace before the chaos ensues.
I don't know how long I'm staring out at the scenery when I feel his eyes on me. Tingles start at my toes and work their way up to the top of my head. The reaction doesn't sit well with me because I know I can't have what my body is screaming for.
I'm about to combust.
If he keeps staring, I might lose my mind and do something stupid.
Thankfully, it isn't long before I see the shadow of land. I lift my hand to block out the sun’s glare that trying to emerge from the clouds and sigh in relief.
