“Is Gigi in here?”
“Why?” he asked, his gut clenching painfully around the wine he just swallowed.
“She seems to have quite the attraction to you,” Olivia said lightly as her eyebrows raised. “I wanted to do some well-deserved snooping to see how well-matched you would be.”
“Who said I want anything to do with her?”
“She does, quite frequently and loudly,” Olivia said as she flipped through the folders. “Ah! There she is. Let’s take a gander, shall we?” She ran her finger down the page and clicked her tongue. “Wow, she does have an impressive family lineage.”
Quincy snorted and laid back on the blanket. “That’s about all she has.”
“Not all. Says here she graduated top of her class from Oxford University with a degree in… What is that?” she said as she squinted down at the page. “Fashion? Really? They have a degree for that at Oxford?”
“You’d be surprised what’s offered nowadays.”
“Not really, I’m an art major,” she mused as her eyes skimmed the rest of the page. Quincy watched her face scrunch in disgust at something, and she turned the page again. “Hmm, interesting. Says here she does volunteer work.”
“No, she doesn’t, unless you count volunteering to drink to support the local economy.”
Olivia pursed her lips. “Isn’t that what you do?”
Quincy shrugged and closed his eyes, enjoying the cool breeze blowing off the water. It rushed over his skin, making his hair stand on end. “I have my moments. Are you done with her yet?”
“Nope. What else do we know about Gigi? Ah, that’s great information.”
“What is?”
“It appears the women were told to write letters to you in order to help you decide which one would make a better queen.”
Quincy reached out to snatch it, but she yanked it away and held it out of reach. “I really don’t want to hear it. Give me the folders.” He sat up all the way and scooted closer, but Olivia moved out of reach again.
“You really need to hear this.”
But he didn’t want to. Quincy didn’t mind Gigi when she was with other people, and granted, she was the most suited to be a queen, but he really did not like the woman. There were too many negative things about her, too many snobby things she said about others at court that made even Quincy want to shut her up.
“Hand it over, Olivia,” he said and lunged for it again.
“Oh, come on,” she said with a laugh as she scooted out of the way just in time.
Quincy grunted as he decided enough was enough. Olivia smirked at him until he made a final grab for the folder and tackled Olivia to the ground in the process. The folders went flying everywhere in the sand, and he looked down, ready to apologize until he saw the look on her face. Her eyes had narrowed, but not in an angry look. His body lay full length on hers. Every curve pressed against him, fitting perfectly like a tailored glove. Her eyes stayed on his, her breathing suddenly deeper, and her chest pushed against him. He realized she was thinking the same thing he was. His skin against hers in a most intimate, delicate fashion.
“Quincy.”
That one breath with his name on it ended his resolve. He didn’t stop to think as he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.
Chapter 8
Olivia didn’t know what to do. Quincy’s lips moved against hers, and her arms wrapped around his back, pulling him tighter against her body. The kiss was warm, and his lips were softer than any others she’d kissed before. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her whole body was starting to come alive. A sudden longing bloomed to life between her legs, and she squirmed as the kiss deepened and his tongue licked lightly at her lips.
She should have stopped. Every voice in her head screamed that she shouldn’t do this, but no matter how hard she tried to tell her body to stop, it didn’t.
Her mouth opened on a sigh, and Quincy groaned as their tongues met. He tasted of the sweet red wine mixed with tropical fruits of the island. She wanted to drink him in for the rest of the evening while the sun set over the water. Quincy’s hands moved down to her shirt and slid underneath. They massaged her sides, and she itched for them to go higher so she could feel his touch on her breast again. She hadn’t been able to get it out of her mind since it happened. His fingers teased her at the edge of her bra, and she pushed her chest up, wanting them to be closer.
Quincy smiled against her lips and moved his hands lower again. She pushed her chest up against him in protest, wanting his hands back where they belonged. Wait, where they belonged? What the hell are we doing?
“Quincy… Quincy wait,” she said, breaking her lips away from his.
“What?” He stared down at her, worried. “Olivia?”