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To accidentally brush my arm against hers.
To have a piece of her hair graze my nose, giving me those scents that I’d been sniffing the air for.
“Come down.”
She inventoried the ladder, which I was still holding. “Even if I wanted to—and I’m not saying I do—you’re blocking my escape.”
“You don’t need it.” I set my drink on the floor and held out my arms. “I’ll catch you.”
“No—”
“You don’t think I can?” I pulled at my button-down, and the shirt tightened across my arms and chest. I wasn’t a scrawny man. It didn’t take the adjustment of my clothes for her to see that. My build and definition spoke for itself. “Or are you afraid to jump?”
She was silent.
For the first time since we’d started speaking, I’d made her speechless.
“How about this? I promise on my life I won’t let you fall.”
She kicked her legs like she was on a swing. “Are you telling me you’re Prince Charming? Because if I was looking for someone to sweep me off my feet, I would have asked you to dance with me. That would have done the trick, assuming you have rhythm.” She bit the corner of her nail. “That’s a weakness of mine.”
And the first time she’d shown any weakness at all.
“I have all the rhythm.” When I laughed this time, it was much louder than before. “But I’m no prince.”
“Are you sure about that?” She pulled her hair to one side of her face, and it hung over her tit, hiding half of the most perfect view. “You’ve now offered to buy me a drink and catch me in your arms, and you’ve given me an answer that you’re hoping will wake me from this cold, standoffish slumber.” She winked. “Am I right?” She only let a second pass before she said, “That feels very prince-ish to me.”
I wondered what kind of dudes she’d dated in the past. Certainly not ones who had spoiled her or, by the sound of it, even bothered to pick up her bill.
“All I want is to get you a glass of wine or a cosmopolitan or a water—if that’s really what you prefer—and to see what you feel like in my arms.” I felt the smile on my lips, the way it pulled so hard that I had to look away. “But I’d be lying if I said I wanted things to end there.”
“You’d be breaking myno touchrule.”
I locked eyes with her once more. “Trust me, it would be worth it.”
“For you.”
She reminded me of one of my favorite songs, so I said, “No, my Tiny Dancer.For you.” Could I be honest with her? She’d only bent a little, so would I be losing anything if I told her what I really wanted? “I’ve already sworn on my life tonight, but I’m going to do it again.” I licked my bottom lip—the bigger of the two. “There’s a reason you’re in this club, dancing on a stage alone. Maybe you came to the island by yourself to get away from your life. Maybe you live here, and you like to lose yourself in the music. Whatever the case is, this is your thing.”
She said nothing, but the expression that passed through her eyes and lips told me that one of my guesses had been right.
“Sex is my thing.”
Her pupils grew the moment I said my favorite word.
I fucking loved that it triggered something inside her.
But she responded, “Why should that matter to me?”
“Because if you let me touch you”—with my stare, I stroked from her feet to the length of her legs, slowly rising to her chest—“the experience will be something you’ll never forget.”
“Sex. With a total stranger.” She rolled her eyes. “That already sounds forgettable.”
“Hey, I offered to give you my name. You didn’t want it.” I was met with silence. “How about this? If you come down—and only if you let me catch you—I’ll prove just how differentIam.”
“How?”
“With a kiss.”
