Down for the Count (Dare Me)

chapter Four


Sunlight streamed in through the window, like red knives piercing her closed lids. Lacey rolled to her side to escape it, wincing as her knee connected with something harder than itself.

“Oof. What the hell?” a low, male voice hissed.

She lurched into a sitting position, regretting it instantly as pain exploded in her temples and the whole room began to spin. Clutching at her aching head, she turned to see Galen stretched out on the bed next to her.

“Sorry,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s just, when you gave me that nice little wakeup kick to the Johnson, you grazed my nuts. Makes it hard to be polite.”

He sat up, sucking long breaths in through his nose and blowing them out his mouth, moving the sheet in the process. His broad shoulders came into view, and she found herself needing to do the whole breathing thing, too. Man, he was fit. His traps were thick and strong. Hard-looking, like—

Oh my God. I kneed him in the wiener. And oh my frigging God, it was like stone.

The gauzy white curtains across the room fluttered in the balmy breeze, inviting and coy. So unlike the curtains in the Thomas family cabin. Memories from the previous night battered around in her mind until she settled on the only one that mattered right now.

They’d done it. They’d really done it.

“I dare you to go on your honeymoon without him,” Galen had said last night. “I’ll even go with you to keep you company. I could use the rest. I just came off a big fight, and my organs haven’t settled back into their proper places yet. You’d be doing me a favor.”

“You’re insane!” Even as tipsy as she’d been, it had taken her almost twenty minutes to talk herself into it. She’d tossed up every roadblock she could think of at first, ticking them off on her fingers as she went, ending with, “The flight’s probably sold out by now and you don’t have a ticket.”

“Well, if Marty doesn’t show up, then they’ll obviously have an open seat for standbys,” he’d said, a challenging gleam in his eye.

They’d gone to her apartment to pick up her bags and then went straight to the airport. By the time their flight was called a couple hours later, though, she’d been as sober as a nun and had almost backed out. Galen must have seen it coming, because he had leaned in close to whisper, “Bock. Bock.”

For a long moment, she’d just gaped at him. “Seriously? You’re seriously going to make chicken noises at me? What are we, ten?”

He’d just folded his arms over his chest and grinned.

“Last call for all passengers on flight seventeen fifty-six to San Juan, Puerto Rico,” the ticket agent had squawked through the loudspeaker.

“What’s it going to be, squirt?”

Maybe it had been the bock-ing. Maybe it was that stupid nickname that he wouldn’t let die. Or maybe it was that, when she had gone through her alternatives one last time, the thought of staying home and dealing with the aftermath of the wedding just yet was too much to bear. Whatever it was, she’d gotten on that plane.

And now she was on her honeymoon with Galen Thomas.

Panic threw a splash of nausea into the pitching cauldron of noxious brew that was her stomach, and she groaned.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be fine.” His words and the awkward pat on her shoulder barely registered as she rolled off the bed and stood, scrabbling for the headboard when the room tilted.

When she thought she could stand it, she opened her eyes, made her way over to the window, and pushed the curtain aside.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” she whispered. When they’d arrived in the wee hours that morning, it had still been dark, and after having more drinks on the plane to bolster her waning courage, neither of them had been able to muster up the energy to do more than fall into the only made-up bed in the villa. She stared out at paradise for a long moment and then turned to take in the room—the wash of paint the color of ripe peaches and the sparse, cream-colored wicker furniture—as what had started out as a dare suddenly became very real.

Her partner in crime scrubbed a hand over his wickedly handsome face before grinning at her. “Welcome to Puerto Rico.”

Terror joined what was left of yesterday’s libations and sent her stomach lurching. She booked it to the adjacent bathroom and retched.

Ten endless minutes later, her aching stomach was finally empty and she stood under the warm spray in the shower. Every time her thoughts veered to the topic of Marty, Becca, or even Galen, her brain started to hurt, so she steadfastly refused to think about anything but the mundane task of lathering, rinsing, and repeating. When she stepped out a short while later, her stomach had settled, and the hot shower had downgraded her headache from ghastly to uncomfortable.

She ran a plush towel over the fogged mirror and groaned at the bloodshot eyes staring back at her. She’d done something crazy last night. Something totally out of character. And here she was, a married woman in Puerto Rico with a man who was more childhood crush than friend. A man who made her feel too much and do crazy, out of character things. So now what?

Now she had to go out and talk to Galen, and explain why they had to leave. Or, why she did, at least. He could stay if he wanted. He had bought his own ticket, and since the villa was already paid for, someone might as well enjoy it. Maybe he’d meet a sexy señorita—

Her newly settled tummy pitched at the thought. What the heck was the matter with her? From the second she’d laid eyes on him twenty years ago, she’d known one thing. He would never see her as more than his sister’s irritating friend. He was…everything. Gorgeous and funny and smart and strong. And she was still just the other slice of white bread. A flavorless afterthought. A foil for the deliciousness inside. Not remarkable enough for a boy who crackled with life like Galen Thomas.

She’d accepted that as fact early on and had relegated her feelings to the deepest corner of her heart, never sharing them. Not even with Cat or Becca. Eventually, she’d learned to live with the sting of standing by while he paraded around the latest cheerleader in his life, clueless to her pain. And eventually, she’d moved on and lived her own life, engaging in a few awkward relationships with guys more her speed, despite the floopy feeling she still got in her gut whenever he was around. And then she ended up with Marty. Surely, after all this time, her heart should have gotten the memo? It was ridiculous, given the total lack of encouragement on his end. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to discourage her attention at every turn, teasing her mercilessly, debating with her over anything and everything, baiting her into petty arguments.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, he’d been sweet, and thoughtful, and plain perfect. He’d come to her rescue like…like a knight on shining Harley. She snort-laughed at the ludicrous thought and picked up her comb. Leave it to her to romanticize a nice gesture. He’d done nothing more than help out his sister’s friend. No need to read into it more deeply than that. He was probably out there right now, mired in regret, and ready to gnaw off his own limb to escape the bear trap he’d found himself in. He’d be ecstatic when she let him off the hook.

After a few swipes with the comb, she tugged her hair into a loose knot and clipped it, then slicked on some lip gloss. She pulled on the tank top and boxers she’d slept in and turned toward the door. Time to convince him she was okay, and his duty was done. Pasting on a smile, she stepped into the bedroom, but he was nowhere to be found. Music drifted from the living room, and she followed the strains of the salsa into the suite’s main room.

“Hey there. Feel better?”

The speech she’d planned died on her lips, unspoken as she took in the scene before her. Galen sat in a lounge chair out on the terrace in board shorts and nothing else. His swarthy skin gleamed in the sunlight, the dips and valleys of his muscles so cut and defined that they could’ve been drawn on with a Sharpie.

“Lacey?”

She cleared her throat, dragging her gaze upward to meet his. “Y-yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yep. You’re hot.” Her cheeks burned. “I mean…it’s hot. Out here. So that’s why I’m, yanno…hot.” She fanned her cheeks for good measure. Brilliant.

His dark eyes danced with mirth. “So, now that we’ve established that Puerto Rico is warm, how are you feeling?”

She looked away. “I’m better, thanks.”

“I ordered some breakfast. Just fruit, yogurt, and some toast. I didn’t think your stomach could handle much else.” He gestured to the spread in front of him. “Sit and eat, and then we can talk. You want coffee?”

She stepped through the French doors and onto the white tiled floor. The warm breeze flirted with the wisps of hair around her face, and she sighed.

“It’s so beautiful here.”

In spite of the music playing in the background, she could hear the ocean lapping at the shore only a hundred yards away. She walked the length of the patio, around a small swimming pool, until she could see it. Gorgeous. Caribbean blue, so pure it didn’t seem real. Her throat went tight with regret.

“I can’t stay, though,” she whispered, then faced Galen. “I can’t stay,” she repeated, louder this time for his benefit.

His face gave away nothing, but he stood and pulled out a chair for her. “Come here.”

She doubted she could eat, but she sat anyway. He flipped over her mug and poured her some coffee.

“They didn’t give us cream. I think we have to order American coffee if we want it next time.”

Next time.

“That’s okay, I like it like this. But I was serious, Galen. There won’t be a next time. I need to borrow your phone and make arrangements to go home. My parents are probably a wreck. This was totally irresponsible of me, and I have to make it right.”

He set his cup down and met her gaze. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“I mean, you didn’t f*ck everything up. Marty did. So why do you have to make it right? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Easy for him to say. In spite of her mother’s feelings on the subject, once her dad got wind of what had happened, there was no way he would allow the merger to go forward until she talked to him. He might have been something of an absentee father, but he wouldn’t take kindly to someone mistreating his little girl this way. And there was still The Admiral to deal with.

She sighed. “There are people to call and apologies to be made. I can’t hide in a bubble while everything goes to pot around me. This isn’t two people deciding to call it quits. We have a merger in the works here, too. My father will pull the plug on the whole thing in a misguided effort to protect me. The merger is a good thing for both firms, and I don’t want it on my conscience that it didn’t pan out. Everyone shouldn’t be punished because Marty couldn’t keep it in his pants. I’ve got to go and talk to my dad and the board and work this through.”

His eyes widened incredulously. “Are you kidding me? Your husband banged your bridesmaid on your wedding day, and you think you should be expected to deal with PR issues and play Miss Manners right this second? Come on, Lacey, even your mother couldn’t expect that.”

The barb about her mother stung, but he had reasons for his animosity. Growing up, The Admiral had never gotten used to her friendship with the less affluent, wild “Thomas girl.” The Thomases had inherited the cheapest house in their pricey neighborhood from a distant aunt, and Lacey’s mother had never let anyone forget it. Kitty and Bill didn’t give a rat’s ass, though, God love them, and they never put a dime into improving it. Instead, they scrimped and saved to afford their cottage on the lake.

In spite of her mother’s desperate attempts to keep the girls apart, Lacey’s friendship with Cat was the one thing Lacey wouldn’t budge on. Her mother could pick out her clothes, make her change schools, and could even try to pick her boyfriends. But Cat was too precious to lose. She was a beam of light in the perpetual smog of Lacey’s dreary days. The person who taught her how to kiss by demonstrating on a pillow, and got her to sing into a brush in front of the mirror. If not for her, sometimes Lacey thought she would’ve withered up and died.

And she certainly had no delusions about her mother. “You’d be surprised what my mother expects.”

“I guess I misspoke. What I meant was, it’s not reasonable to ask that of you.” He reached out and covered her hand with his own. “Stay.”

His fingers were warm on her wrist. She swallowed hard as electricity pulsed between them. “I don’t get it. W-why is it so important?”

“Because I want you to.”

“You don’t even like me.”

He shoved himself back from the table and stood. “That’s the last time I want to hear that,” he said, a warning in his tone. Two steps brought him to her side, towering over her. He pulled her to her feet and she wound up nose to flat male nipple.

She moistened her suddenly dry lips. “Well, we haven’t exactly been great friends all these years.”

“We’re friends now, okay? I wouldn’t be here if we weren’t. Besides, what guy hangs out with his little sister’s bestie? You guys were three years behind me. That would’ve been creepy. But we’re adults now. And hey?” Mercifully, he nudged her chin up so her gaze was no longer locked on that tempting chest of his. “I’m sorry it took me so long to recognize that. When I moved out to the city to train, I thought when I got back everything would still be the same. I guess I fell back into the old routine of yanking your chain without really taking into account that you’d grown up. In my defense, once you started dating Marty, it was easy, what with all the ammunition.”

His pearly teeth flashed in a wolfish grin that she found herself returning. “I’m starting to wonder if maybe I was drugged or something. He is sort of a weird choice,” she admitted ruefully. In fact, as she thought of him now, even the anger had started to fade.

Galen nodded. “See what I mean? After a couple weeks here, you’re going to go home as convinced as I am that this was all for the best.”

“Maybe it’s more than that, though.” She paused, her throat aching. “I never in a million years thought Becca would do this to me.” Her voice cracked on the end, and she cursed herself for being such a wimp. But damn, it hurt. “Was it my fault, Galen? Did I do something to make this happen?”

“No. Not even a little bit. Hell, even if you were a nightmare of a friend and a terrible fiancée, it wouldn’t be your fault. He should’ve broken up with you if he didn’t want you.”

She laughed bitterly. “Thanks loads.”

“You didn’t let me finish.” He brushed away the tears on her cheeks with his thumb. “Thing is? I’ve known you a long time, and I know for a fact you were neither of those things. You were a great friend to Becca and a better woman than a guy like Marty could ever hope for. They don’t deserve you. Not him, and not her.”

She sniffled and swiped a hand over her eyes. “You say that, but you don’t even li—”

“Stop that. I like you fine. Hell, more than fine.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, but he hesitated for a beat too long, tracing the shell with his forefinger. Just that simple touch sent a shiver through her, and she pulled back.

“Lacey, I—”

The theme song from Rocky blared from the pocket of his shorts. He lowered his hand and stepped back. “That’s Cat.” He rolled his eyes. “And so you know, I didn’t program that song in—she did.”

Lacey nodded dumbly and stepped back, grateful for the reprieve. She didn’t know what kind of strange voodoo was going on with Galen, but this seemingly newfound awareness on his part was driving her nutty. How she felt about him had always been one-sided. Now the chemistry was crackling from all angles, and it scared the crap out of her.

Not that it mattered. Sure, it had hurt that Marty cheated. And sure, she was embarrassed and angry that someone she cared about had broken her trust. But even though she’d come to the not-so-stunning realization that she hadn’t been in love with him—and hadn’t been able to admit to herself until, underneath all the anger, she’d felt a nugget of relief yesterday in the linen closet—she was still a married woman. At least for as long as it took to get the annulment papers worked out. Just because he was a cheater didn’t mean she had to join him in the gutter. Dimly, she heard Galen saying his good-byes to his sister.

“How is everything going?” she asked as he disconnected. “Didn’t she want to talk to me?”

“Nope. She said to call her later. She contacted your mom and dad to let them know you came to Puerto Rico, so that’s taken care of.”

Lacey had forgotten that they’d called Cat last night to tell her their plan. Her friend had been all for it. Her only gripe was that she couldn’t join them because of the spring collection she had to finish putting together at work.

As Lacey contemplated what the call between Cat and her mother must have been like, she found herself grateful that she’d smashed her own phone to smithereens at the reception hall. She couldn’t imagine having that conversation right now.

“She also said that Marty’s been looking for you. She didn’t tell him where you were, but he wants you to call him.”

She snorted, and he shrugged.

“I’m only the messenger. For what it’s worth, Cat agrees with me one hundred percent. We both think you should stay.”

Nerves sent her heart pounding as she finally allowed herself to seriously consider that option. Could she do it? Throw caution to the wind and leave the mess of her ill-fated marriage to molder while she dove headlong into Puerto Rico? “I have to call my lawyer,” she hedged. “See about getting an annulment in the works.” It was a feeble argument. It would take one phone call to get the ball rolling and months to get through the red tape. She didn’t really need to go home for that. “And my dad. I wouldn’t put it past him to do something rash come Monday morning, and I can’t allow that.”

“Don’t think about me, or Cat, or Marty. Don’t think about your parents or what their snobby country club friends will say or what the board wants. What do you want to do, Lacey?” His eyes delved deep, searching for something she couldn’t name. She felt like she was standing on a precipice, and no matter which way she turned, she was going down hard. Changes were brewing, and it was up to her to navigate her own ship for once.

The question hung between them like prickly vines, and in the center, the answer dangled before her like a fat, ripe berry ready to drop. She wanted to stay. But if she did—and with Galen, no less—would she ever be able to fit back into the square-shaped hole she’d left behind?

And more importantly, did she even want to?

…

Galen could almost hear the slap of skin on skin as she wrestled with herself. He’d done his part and had made a vow to himself that he wouldn’t say another word. She needed to step up to the ropes here and decide—in or out. He wasn’t going to be another in the long line of puppeteers yanking her strings.

Just when he thought she was going to bail for the second time in twenty-four hours, she shocked him. Steeling her shoulders, she tipped her chin to meet his gaze. “Okay. I’ll stay. If I can talk my dad down some.”

It was what he wanted, so the fear nipping at the heels of his euphoria was a little confusing. He didn’t let on, though. She was one flimsy excuse from changing her mind, and he wasn’t about to give it to her. Why should being in close quarters with her scare him, anyway? He was a big boy, and he could handle it, even if he had to spend the next two weeks taking cold showers in order to do it.

He filed that problem under “shit to deal with later” and gave her a thumbs-up. “Excellent. Let’s eat, then you can call your lawyer and your father while I pack a bag. We’re going to the beach.”

She popped off a snotty salute. “Yes sir.”

They made short work of their light meal, and he handed his phone over so she could make her calls. He packed quickly and had just zipped the beach bag closed when she came into the bedroom a short while later, the crease in her brow less pronounced. That was a good sign.

“How did it go?”

“With my lawyer? Fine. He’s making some calls and getting things rolling. With my father?” She shrugged, handing his phone to him. “Better than I expected, actually. He’s furious with Marty, but he agreed to wait until I got back to make any decisions about the merger. Then he told me I’d better call my mother, because she’s flipping out. I made him promise not to give her this number and asked him to try to calm her down. He’s going to do his best.”

“Great. You look less stressed already.”

“I feel a little better. Like I can unplug for a while and maybe everything won’t fall apart around me worse than it already has.”

Now that he’d taken responsibility for her, he was determined to buttress the walls around her and even more determined to follow through and help her figure out who she was and what she wanted to do next with her life. It was a dangerous line to walk because, over the course of one day, he was already scarily attracted to her. As they spent more time together, he had the sneaking suspicion he was only going to want her more.

“Let’s hit the beach,” he said.

She nodded, but held out her hand for the bag. “Did you pack towels?”

“Of course.”

“Sunblock?”

“Yep.” He crossed his arms over his chest as she spent the next ten minutes pawing through the bag and reorganizing everything he’d packed. “You might be surprised to know that I’m a grown man who has packed a bag a time or two in his day.”

“I know that, but it’s better to spend a few minutes double-checking than getting down to the beach and realizing we forgot something.”

She must have heard the prissy tone in her voice because her cheeks turned pink and she zipped the bag closed. “Let’s just go.”

He chuckled and they stepped out the front door, locking it behind them. Lacey was double-checking the lock when a heavily accented voice called from down the pathway.

“Mr. and Mrs. Clemson?” A round young man dressed in a porter’s uniform huffed his way up the incline from the sprawling white building that acted as a reception and dining area for the all-villa resort.

Lacey stiffened, but Galen took her arm. “That’s us.” No point in making her explain the confusing Jerry Springer–esque situation to a stranger.

“I have some messages for you that were left with the front desk. Your mother would like you to call her as soon as possible. They started coming in early this morning, but we try not to bother guests until at least ten a.m. unless it’s a family emergency.”

He wouldn’t meet her gaze as he handed over a pile of creamy white paper, and Lacey took it with a frown. “Thank you.”

The porter swiped an arm over his sweaty brow and smiled. “No problem.”

Given his size and the redness of his face, it had clearly been a problem. Galen pulled a ten out of his pocket. “Thanks”—he glanced at the name tag—“Jesus. The missus and I appreciate it.”

Jesus smiled his thanks, pocketed the cash, and turned to start his slow descent back down the hill. Galen turned to Lacey, whose frown was deepening as she read.

“What is it?”

“From my mother.” She handed him the pile and pressed two fingers to her temple to rub.

He hadn’t read a word of it, and he was already annoyed. In a matter of one minute, Rowena had ratcheted up Lacey’s anxiety tenfold and it had him half wishing a house would fall on her. When he started reading, the half wish ramped up to burning desire.

Lacey—

Call me IMMEDIATELY. Do not make another move until you contact me.

—Mother.

He flipped to the next one.

Lacey—

Call me this instant. You’re behaving like a child.

—Mother

The next:

Take a day to sulk, pick yourself up by your bootstraps, and plan to return home tomorrow. There are multiple important matters that need your attention.

I will expect a call tomorrow with your flight number so I can send a driver to collect you at the airport.

Apparently, the salutations were no longer needed.

He fanned out the stack, and she shook her head. There were three more and, if the pattern held, they would only be increasingly hostile.

“Listen, I don’t think you should—”

She held up a hand. “Say no more. I agree. I’m done with her for the time being.” She took a deep breath and crumpled them into a ball. “Lead me to that beach, sir. I need some cooling off.”

She looked so strong in that moment, he wanted to pump his fist or give her a high five, but he held back. When he was preparing for a big fight, his trainer would take him mountain climbing to build up his hand strength and endurance. Max’s favorite piece of advice? Don’t look down until you reach the summit. Galen had asked why, thinking Max would give him some inspirational shit about the satisfaction of seeing how far he’d come at the end or something. Instead, Max had snorted, “Because it’s f*cking scary.”

This was another small step toward independence for Lacey, and he wasn’t about to call too much attention to it, because it was definitely scary for her.

But inside? Inside he was beaming with pride.

.

An hour later, Galen found himself sitting under an umbrella on a lounge chair, seriously questioning his sanity. What the hell had he been thinking taking her to the beach? It had been bad enough with her prancing around in boxer shorts and a tank top, but this was ridiculous. She’d started off in some sort of muumuu-type cover-up, but after twenty minutes in the sultry heat, she’d seemed to gather her courage and had shucked it off. He, along with every other guy on that spit of beach, had nearly swallowed his tongue.

She stood before him now against the backdrop of crystal blue water in a nefarious white string bikini. Four triangles of cloth clung to her with no more aid than a slender chain on each curve of hip and one looped around her neck. It was enough to rock his socks off.

“Does it look stupid?” She wrapped her arms around her waist, which only succeeded in pressing her breasts together, plumping them against the edge of her suit, which, in turn, sent something plumping against his. “It looks stupid. I’m going to go to the gift shop and get a tank suit. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She retrieved her cover-up and was in the process of tugging it back on by the time he finally trusted himself to speak. “Don’t.”

She paused and met his gaze. “I look silly. This isn’t me. I’m not ballsy enough to pull this off.” She bit her lip and turned away. “I just wanted…”

“I know what you wanted.” He would’ve stood, but his physiological response to her state of undress made that impossible unless he wanted to get himself arrested for indecent exposure. “You wanted to let go, have some fun, do something different and exciting.” The genuine sadness in her eyes kept him from adding, And for the record, I’m different and exciting.

She clutched the brightly patterned cloth more tightly in her hands. “Yeah.”

“So I don’t know why you’re trying to talk yourself out of it now. The hard stuff is over. You dumped the groom, ran out on your wedding reception, and jumped on the back of a Harley in your slip. Then you got drunk and flew to Puerto Rico with your best friend’s older brother, who, incidentally, thinks you look smoking hot. Who’s got more balls than you?” he asked, allowing some annoyance to trickle into his tone. His baiting her was terra firma for them both. Hopefully the familiarity of it would remind her that he was, and always had been, a straight shooter. He wasn’t blowing smoke up her ass here. A lot of people in her shoes would’ve crumbled after yesterday, but she’d handled that lights-out blow to the chin better than most of the heavyweights he’d fought.

Her eyes went so wide, she could’ve been a cartoon. “Y-You think I look hot?” Her wringing hands went limp and her cover-up fell to the sand.

He considered backpedaling rather than revealing exactly how much she affected him, but one look at the hope on her face killed that notion. Instead, he played it matter-of-fact. “I don’t think it, squirt. I know it. It’s like water’s wet, the sky is blue, Lacey looks fine as hell in her bikini.” He shrugged. “Facts are facts. You’ve gotta get some confidence working because I think your view of yourself is skewed. Fake it until you make it.”

She lifted her hands to cross them over her midsection again, but then froze, letting them drop to her sides. Sucking in a deep breath, she nodded, then snagged the cover-up. “I’ll try,” she said, and folded it into a neat little square before setting it on her chair.

His little head thanked him for the return of the visual smorgasbord while his big head cursed him for not minding his own damned business. He’d put himself in a terrible spot here. Sure, he wanted to make her feel better, but at this rate, he was going to have a Guinness Book–worthy case of blue balls.

“Want to go for a swim?” he asked, more out of self-preservation than anything. Cold water would be a godsend right now.

“I do, but most of my skin hasn’t seen the sun since summer, and some of these parts have never seen it.” She gestured to the smooth expanse of flat stomach. “I’ve got to slather on SPF five thousand until I get a base tan.”

He jammed a hand into the duffel bag he’d packed and pulled out the bottle of sunscreen.

“Smart thinking.” Only now he had to watch her apply it. He tossed it to her, and then settled back against the chair as if he were going to relax a while. As she uncapped the bottle and poured some lotion into her palm, he pinched his eyes closed. He would not think about her working that lotion over his cock until he came. He would not imagine bending her over and massaging it into her ass cheeks, his fingers trailing closer and closer to the heat between her thighs until she begged for more. He would not look, because that would only make it w—

His lids lifted of their own accord, and he heard himself ask, “Do you need help with your back?”

“Nope, I already got it. I do yoga so I’m super flexible.”

He bit back a groan. He definitely could’ve done without that little nugget of information. Now not only could he visualize them having wild monkey sex, he could also imagine doing it in some very creative positions.

She turned and jogged toward the ocean. He found himself mesmerized by the swing of her hips. “You coming?” she called over her shoulder.

Not yet, but that could be arranged in short order.

Damn, he was a perv. He really needed to do something about that. “Right behind you.”

She stopped at the edge of the water and dipped a careful toe in. Then she ran straight into the spray with reckless abandon, her delighted laughter spurring him to his feet. He covertly adjusted his man-junk as best he could and stood. There were at least a dozen other women reclined on colorful beach towels, similarly clothed, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Lacey.

By the time he reached the water, she was submerged up to her neck. He thanked God for small favors. The cool ocean lapped at his ankles as he watched her swim. Behind her, a monster wave was swelling. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Incoming!”

She turned her head and squealed, paddling toward him. At first he thought she was afraid and started toward her, but then he realized she was laughing. Right as the wave crested, she stretched her arms straight in front of her and came blasting his way, skimming across the top of the water like she was resting on a surfboard. The immense power of the ocean and the exhilaration on her face sent his heart pounding. The wave finally deposited her in a heap at his feet. The back of her white bikini bottoms was covered in mud and her top was…

Gone.

“That was so much fun. Come do one with me!” She was lying in the shallow water on her stomach and rose to a kneel before he could stop her. Her full breasts were streaked with wet sand, but it didn’t hide the twin hard peaks beckoning him. The blood drained from his brain, all headed south, and words wouldn’t come. He did manage to step closer, blocking her from the sun worshippers on the shore behind him.

Her smile dimmed. “What’s the matter? You don’t like salt water?”

“I like it fine.” His voice was gritty and he cleared his throat. “But you need to get back all the way in and lie on your stomach.”

She shot him a puzzled glance and then followed his gaze downward. Letting out a strangled “Gack!” she didn’t so much lay back down as she did pitch forward into the shallow water, flat on her face. She came up sputtering and spat out a mouthful of sand before slapping her hands over her breasts. Frantically, she squirmed toward deeper water, but down two working appendages and fighting the incoming waves, she wasn’t getting anywhere.

A child’s giggles broke the spell Lacey’s naked breasts had weaved over him, and he realized a family was entering the water right next to them. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he tugged her up into an embrace, pressing her chest to his. “Wrap your arms around me,” he said against her ear. “I’m going to stand and carry you out farther so no one can see you. Then, I’m going to go back to shore and get your cover-up, all right?”

She burrowed her head into the crook of his neck and nodded. There was a long pause and then she released her breasts to snake her arms around his neck. He sucked in a breath as her softness smashed against his hardness. The cool slide of her skin against his sent a sizzle of lust through him, so strong he nearly toppled over.

“This is so mortifying. This is why I don’t do anything wild or crazy. I suck at it. One bikini in my whole life and look what happens. Even when we were young, your sister used to say I was the kiss of death because whenever she convinced me to do something fun, I always ended up getting us caught or screwing it up somehow.”

He focused on her panicked babbling and clutched her thighs to stabilize her, forcing his feet to propel them forward.

“You okay? Am I too heavy?”

“Nope, I needed to adjust my grip, is all.” He stood, lifting her with him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He hadn’t thought that far ahead and groaned as her thighs straddled him, lining her pubic bone directly against the throbbing heat of his dick. She stiffened in his arms and gasped, the babbling coming to a screeching halt. His starving brain cast around fruitlessly for another way to carry her, but this was the only way to preserve her modesty, which in turn obliterated his.

When the water was deep enough to swim in, the strength of the waves began to rock her body against his in a torturous rhythm. The need to rock back, grinding into her softness, was so strong he had to stop for a second and get a grip. That’s when he felt it. The subtle shift of her hips as her body pressed closer, pulsing against his, as if driven by instinct. She clutched at his shoulders, burrowing closer, her nipples pebbling against his chest. The blast of want hit him so hard, he had to grit his teeth to keep from groaning.

Clutching at her thighs, he anchored her still. “Stop wriggling,” he said. His voice was low, gruff, and strained.

She froze. “S-sorry.”

The warm puff of air against his ear and the break in her voice almost threw him right over the edge. What would Little Lacey Garrity do if he stripped aside those tiny bikini bottoms and buried himself in her again and again until she screamed?

Not the plan, a*shole.

He took a steadying breath and strode purposefully into the surf, reciting his times tables as he went. He wouldn’t think about how soft her breasts were, pillowed against him. Or how her tight little nipples were branding his chest. Or how they’d looked in the morning sunshine, pouty, glistening with ocean water, begging for his tongue.

“Okay, good enough,” he announced abruptly, and released her, stepping back like she was on fire.

She covered her breasts again, dipping low until she was immersed in the blue water.

He averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “We’re the only ones out this far, so if you turn to face the open ocean, no one will see,” he said, his voice almost guttural now. Too bad. He didn’t want to shock her, but he was only flesh and blood, and there was nothing he could do about it.

She didn’t respond to his suggestion and wouldn’t look at him.

“Lacey?” Still nothing. Shit. She was upset. He struggled to find words over the cacophony of his roaring libido. “It’s no big deal. Don’t let this derail you. You came here to let loose, to get away from the drama at home. Now you have a funny story to tell.” He tipped her chin so she had no choice but to look at him. “Talk to me, squirt.”

When she finally met his gaze, he wished she hadn’t. Her pupils were dilated, her nostrils flaring lightly as she struggled for air. The pulse in her neck fluttered, and he stared at it, overcome with the desire to close his teeth over the delicate skin there. The adrenaline rush of the situation may have intensified her feelings, but one thing was clear that hadn’t been the night before. Her body’s reaction to him wasn’t a fluke. She was as hot for him as he was for her.

Bad news for Lacey because, up until that moment, he’d relegated himself to the role of unofficial guardian. But now that he knew the vibe he’d felt from her last night was more than just the alcohol and stress of the situation—now that he knew she wanted him for real?

It was on.