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“I win.” Smug, I tilt my head to allow him better access.
His thumb brushes over my nipple. “Me too,” he murmurs against my skin.
I shiver when he nips at my sensitized flesh, despite the sun beating down on us.
We get lost in the wild rush of desire. The roar of my pulse drowns out the lap of the waves against the shore and the buzz of insects in the shrubbery hugging the narrow slice of beach.
The afternoon stretches around us. The sun has descended to a different angle by the time we collapse next to each other on the towel, our breathing ragged, bodies satisfied.
His fingers lace with mine. “Wow.”
“Yep.” Every time with Atticus is incredible. Sometimes it’s sweet, sometimes it’s intense, but it’s always epic. Except... “I think I have sand in weird places.”
Atticus chuckles, lifting my hand to kiss the back of it. “Well, we can’t have that.”
We rinse our bodies in the warm waters of the Ionian Sea, splashing around and playing until we’re both tired and famished from the exertions.
Strolling back in the direction of our rented villa while the sun sets, we stop to eat a leisurely dinner on the patio of a seaside café before turning in for the night.
We shower off the exertions of the day, and then laze around on the couch, Atticus on one side, me on the other with my feet in his lap. His giant, warm hands envelop my toes, his thumbs rubbing my heels.
Heaven. Pure heaven.
Until my phone rings.
“I’ve got it.” Atticus sets my feet to the side and pushes off the couch, taking two steps over to the mini kitchen, where my phone is resting on the counter. “It’s Finley.”
I sit up, glancing over at the clock. It’s early afternoon in New York. I hold out my hand and he passes me the phone.
“Finley? Is everything okay?”
“Taylor, I’m so sorry to bother you on your vacation.” Her voice is tight with tension.
My stomach drops. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine,” she says quickly. “I mean I think it’s fine. It’s just, it’s Jake.”
My eyes lock with Atticus. A divot forms between his brows.
I shrug at him and ask Finley, “What do you mean? What’s going on with Jake?”
She sighs. “I was hoping you would be able to tell me. He always talks to you more than me. He tells me I worry too much.”
“Finley, what is it?”
She blows out a breath. “He’s gone.”
* * *
