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Dean’s mouth brushed against her neck, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. “Let’s give them something to watch, since they seem to be expecting a show.”
“What?” The word came out high and breathless, and it was her last coherent thought before his hands settled on her hips, and he trailed hot, gentle kisses from the base of her neck up toward her ear. Electricity jolted through her body, and she let her head fall to the side, giving him better access. Unable to help it, she let out a tiny moan, because, holy shit, his mouth felt good on her.
He moaned against her skin and with a firm grip on her hips, pulled her back against him, the skin of his chest warm against her bare back. Her toes curled into the sand as he continued his unhurried path up and then back down her neck.
“You taste good,” he whispered against her skin, and she felt as though everything inside her was alive and pulsing, heat and lust spiking her blood pressure. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this with him. They were just friends. It wasn’t real. And yet she knew she was wet, her inner muscles clenching as his teeth scraped over her earlobe.
Apparently, arousal made her stupid, because she opened her mouth, feeding the flames instead of dousing them like a woman with two working brain cells would’ve done. “Don’t stop. God, that feels good.”
He slid a hand up from her hip and into her hair, tugging lightly as he exposed the other side of her neck. Sparks danced across her scalp and her eyes drifted closed as he brushed his lips over her skin, dropping slow, hot kisses on her neck. Her insides felt like a kaleidoscope, bright colors all swirling together, contracting and expanding in a gorgeous, dizzying rhythm. She moved against him, unable to hold still, and she felt his cock, thick and hard, pressed against the small of her back. Her stomach bottomed out. Oh, God. This was in serious danger of spiraling out of control. Time to pump the breaks.
She looked up, trying to regain her focus with Dean’s talented mouth still on her. “They’re . . .” Her voice came out rusty, and she licked her lips and then swallowed. “They’re gone. Not watching anymore.”
“Huh?” He lifted his head from her neck and slid his hand from her hair. “Oh. Right. Yeah.” For a moment, neither of them spoke or moved. His heart beat against her back, and she was relieved to find that hers wasn’t the only pulse that had picked up. He cleared his throat. “Sorry about the, uh, the . . .” He cleared his throat again.
“No, it’s okay, it happens. Well, I assume it happens, but I don’t actually have a . . . Or I’m not saying that guys always . . .” Her words tumbled out, one after the other, in an awkward rush. “Really, I’m flattered.”
He laughed, a low, husky sound. “You should be.”
“Maybe you should go jump in the ocean.” She moved to scoot off the chair, but his hands tightened on her hips. Fresh heat sizzled over her skin.
“I, uh, need a minute here.”
“You need me to be your boner shield?” she asked. She turned and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his. He shot her a crooked smile, his eyes bright.
“Please. And don’t say boner.” He rested his forehead against her shoulder, and she both heard and felt him take a couple of deep breaths. “Kris Bryant. Bryce Harper. Clayton Kershaw. Andrew McCutcheon.”
“Are you reciting National League MVPs?”
“Uh-huh. Buster Posey. Ryan Braun. Albert Pujols.”
“You missed Joey Votto. How come I shouldn’t say boner?”
“Because we’re not in high school.”
“So, what should I call it?” She glanced over her shoulder, but Dean’s eyes were closed as he silently prayed to the boner-relieving baseball gods. The sudden urge to tease him overtook her, maybe because she felt somewhat discombobulated by what had just happened between them, and she needed to go back to the way things were before he’d put his mouth on her skin and tilted her world. “How about ‘blue steel’?” His mouth twitched, but he was still focused on deflating the situation in his swim trunks. “No? Hmm. What about ‘the purple hammer?’”
He cracked an eye open, and she could see the smile he was fighting back. “That’s at least ten times worse than boner.”
“Oh! How about the ‘raging salmon?’”
He broke and let out a laugh, and the last of the sexual tension seemed to dissipate. “You’re a weirdo.”
“I know.” She smiled, relieved to be back on familiar ground. “How’s the raging salmon situation?”
He flashed her a smile. “All clear. Swam back upstream.”
It was her turn to laugh. She’d been about to make another boner joke—the world could always use more boner jokes—when a man wearing a blue polo shirt emblazoned with the resort’s logo and a pair of white shorts approached. He held a ball in one hand.
“Volleyball, my friends?”
Chapter 5
“Christie! Do you want to play?” Luke called to his fiancée, who was currently sitting in the shade of one the massive wood and straw umbrellas, flipping through a magazine. He tossed the volleyball once in the air, catching it one-handed.
“Are you kidding me? Knowing my luck, I’d take a volleyball right to the face only days before the wedding. I am not walking down the aisle with a black eye or a busted nose. Pass.”
Dean chuckled, eyeing the people who’d gathered around the net to play. He, Carly, Matt, and Ellie stood on one side, while Luke and Ethan stood on the other.
