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His tongue sweeps through my mouth, fighting mine, pulling me deeper and deeper into him. Every movement he makes intoxicates me. I feel his touch everywhere like it’s burned into my skin.
“Tonight,” he whispers against my mouth. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
“I’m yours every night,” I say back. “But it makes me all kinds of excited when you say that.”
His lips curve into mine. “How excited?”
“You’ll find out later, won’t you?”
He dips his hand between my legs and runs his finger under my bikini briefs. I gasp, my eyes drawn to his when he pulls his finger, glistening with my wetness, to his mouth and licks it off. My pussy clenches, sending red-hot desire ricocheting through my veins.
He releases me with a sexy grin and disappears into the bathroom. I stare through the doorway, getting a brief glimpse of his naked body as he steps into the shower.
Need consumes me—memories of the times we’ve been together in the shower flash through my mind in quick succession. That first night when we were in our relationship that wasn’t really a relationship and a few days ago.
I want to tear off my clothes and walk in there with him. Feel him hold me to him, feel him inside me, stroking me.
My indecision holds me still, and by the time I take one step forward, the shower is off and Tyler is toweling off. My eyes drop his to ass.
Damn.
He has a really nice butt.
“What is it with you and my bum?”
I lift my eyes to his. He’s looking at me over his shoulder, his lips quirking upward. I shrug and turn away.
“Come on. I want to go out.”
I lie back on the sand and sigh. It’s hot against my skin as I grab a handful and let the fine grains run through my fingers, only to fall to the very place where I picked them up. Tyler sits next to me and crosses his legs.
He gazes down at me and puts a fry between my lips. I eat it to pacify him, although I’m still full from the slice of toast earlier. He offers me another and I shake my head. He shoves it into his mouth with way too much vigor—but I’ll forgive him since the owners of the restaurant were British.
So, despite his earlier statement, he can get “proper fish and chips” here. This has delighted him to no end, and despite my teasing, I love seeing the satisfied glint in his eye.
“How did your shoot go earlier?”
“Fine. For once,” he answers, waving some fish in front of my face.
“Ugh, no.” I purse my lips. “Get it away. That smell!”
Tyler laughs and eats it. “I don’t think you understand how good this is,” he says around the fish.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, you savage!” I thump his thigh.
Another laugh. “That thing about Brits being polite? It’s bullshit.”
“What, so you don’t say sorry ten million times to someone?”
“Do I look like a groveler?”
“No, but you look like someone who pisses people off a lot, so it’s a viable question.”
He flings a fry at my face and I laugh.
“Only you. But I think that’s a boyfriend requirement. Right?”
I raise my eyebrow. “Yes, because there’s a book for that shit. Didn’t you know? I saw a Barnes and Noble down the road—why don’t you ask them if they have a copy?”
