AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Just saying, I’d love to be Zoey right now.”
“In your dreams,” I volley back.
His eyebrows wiggle. “Absolutely,big man,” he says suggestively. Aaron is very open with his sexuality, and he’s a joker at heart, too, which he uses to his advantage often to make me the brunt of many jokes between the boys. It’s usually the runt of the group who gets the beatings, but not this bunch. They pick on the biggest out of all of us. Me.Cocky bastards.
Sitting back, I glug my beer again, enjoying how cool it feels against my raging temperature. I will my body to calm the fuck down. I’m not an impulsive guy. I plan and brood and take calculated risks, not make reckless decisions. So, these feelings of desperation that have been biting at my heels for the last ten minutes are unsettling me; I need to chill out.
“Ugh, I’m in heaven. I love the sunshine. Now, if I could just convince you to massage me like that every day, I’d be set for life.” Zoey murmurs quietly, as she lets out a contented sigh.
Funny thing is, I’d happily give her massage after massage if it meant I could touch her like that daily. And that is exactly what I shouldn’t be admitting to myself.
Chapter 6
Zoey
IfIthoughtHarrison’stouch was torture (of the best kind), it is nothing to watching him getting out of the pool; water running over his sculpted body and his swim shorts clinging to him, outlining his thick thighs and the outline of what looks like his very impressive cock. One I’d very much like to explore. Just the thought makes my mouth water.
Holy mother fucking hell, older men are hot.How am I only just realising this? Older men are it.
Laying on my front, I gawk at him from behind the safety of my sunglasses, drinking in every curve of his stomach that’s carved to perfection but not overworked either. He’s got a body that screams, ‘Zoey, lick me’. Then again, maybe that’s just my inner ho trying to fly her freak flag.
His dark hair is long enough to almost tuck it behind his ears and get those fucking cute curls that flick around the base of his neck. Don’t even get me started on his beard or the fact that all the hair on his head and face is starting to speckle with grey, which is a huge plus in my books. I watch completely in awe as a droplet of water travels down through the valleys of his pecs and disappears into his abs.
This man—not the boy I crushed on a lifetime ago—is evidently all grown up, and what a fucking grown up he is.
As he moves towards the cabana we’ve been sharing for the last few hours, I desperately try to tear my attention from him. In my peripheral vision, I see him flick some of the water from his hair, and I have to physically stop myself from opening my mouth to catch the droplets.No, Zoey, inappropriate.But when he runs his thick fingers through his strands, pushing it back from his face, I’m done for. I don’t even care if I am caught staring because the man is a fucking god among us mortals.
When he sits on the bed next to me, my breathing hitches as heat travels through my body, converging between my thighs. I’m so distracted by his proximity that when his cold hand suddenly lands on my lower calf, I practically leap off the cabana. A zing of pleasure travels upwards and lands directly on my clit with a zap. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. Drink?” he asks.
My heartbeat thrashes in my ears from his touch. And yet, somehow, I manage to reply. “Please,” I say breathlessly, begging my inner ho to calm down and ignore his hand to the best of my ability. When he removes it to grab me a beer, my body whimpers for more of his touch.
God knows how we’re supposed to spend a few days together in the same suite and not touch each other. I mean, I do know, and they’re called Max and Owen. But aside from them, I’m not totally convinced Harrison wants me. I mean, I thought I saw a flicker of something earlier, like when he watched me walk into the pool area, and they seemed to sparkle with gold flecks against the darkness, and I could’ve sworn he adjusted in that way that men do when they’re rocking a hard-on.
But since the plane, he’s been good at being Mr Cool, Mr sombre, and grown up that I’m not actually sure what he’s thinking. And since I have the mental age of a teenager, it seems anything between us is likely going to fizzle out faster than I can say, ‘What happens in Vegas’ because no one ever puts up with my shit. But is that what I’d want? A fling? I mean, it’s all I’ve ever really done, but something about Harrison tells me he is a commitment type. And maybe… But then I realise there’s no point in even considering this because it won’t happen. Flirting is fine, but that’s all I’ll allow myself.
I lay flat again to slip my discarded bikini top back on and tie it up, adjusting the material over my chest. Just as I turn slightly to face him, propping my head onto my hand, he passes me a cold beer; a few droplets of condensation drip onto my hip, the cold sizzling from my heated skin, and a gasp escapes my throat with haste. “Jesus, that’s cold.”
Without hesitation, he leans forward and wipes the cool liquid from my skin, replacing it with a trail of heat where his fingertips have brushed against me. “There,” he says casually, as though he hasn’t just ignited a fucking raging fire inside me. Honestly, I’m half wishing he’d licked it off me.
“Thanks,” I say, tipping my beer towards him and then glugging half of it without a breath.
After a few minutes, he leans forward and lays right next to me. The smell of beer, suncream and something slightly sweet but masculine washes over me as he moves. He turns his head my way, leaving us both staring at each other.
“So, Zoey Bancroft. How has life treated you all these years?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Piqued your interest, have I?”
He nods. “Very much so.” Our eyes stay locked, enough for me to see those golden flecks ignite again like fireworks across a dark sky.
“You’re kind of beautiful, you know,” I whisper, without really thinking about how he might take my compliment. To my surprise, he blushes. It’s hard to see past his beard, but it’s definitely there; a cute pink flush colours the tips of his ears and the end of his nose.
“Thank you.” He doesn’t look away, and now it’s my turn to colour. “I don’t feel like it’ll be genuine if I say it back to you now.”
My nose scrunches. “I’m not a words kind of girl. Definitely more into physical touch, so you can call me all the things you like, but as soon as those big, beautiful hands touch me, I’ll be a puddle again. So anytime you want to tell me I look good, you can just massage me instead.”
“Noted.” He smiles genuinely, and the fact I made my ex-crush smile makes my chest swell, and I wonder how much he actually smiles. I stand by my assessment of him, that strong, silent, serious type, and whilst that’s insanely hot, that doesn’t compare to the effect of this man’s perfectly symmetrical smile, which is currently making my tummy flutter.
“So, you want to know what’s been going on? I don’t know if you realise, but that’s sixteen years of catching up.”
