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“I told you I’d find the perfect spot.” His voice is low in my ear. “I don’t give up until I find what I’m looking for.”
His words were laced with suggestion and have my thighs clenching tight. I shiver in spite of the heat around me, which is nothing compared to the heat inside me.
Fynn gives me a heart-stopping smirk as he pulls the first of our giant towels free. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Exactly how desperate I am to be touched. Appreciated. Seen.
That was part of the reason this plan seemed so great at first. Like everyone else, I assumed Fynn was all the rumor mill claims. I figured my plan would be an easy sell. Plus, if I was going to sleep with a cheating scumbag, I wanted it to be on my terms. Then I met him and in just one conversation he made me question all I thought I knew. And my plans to find my way into Fynn’s bed have only intensified since then. Both for practical purposes, and my own selfish desires.
By the time he has the first towel stretched out, I’m more than ready to get off the sand, so I drop down to the navy and red terry cloth. It’s already warm from the sun, but still nothing compared to the freaking lava surrounding me, so I’m not going to complain.
Fynn spreads the second, expanding our sand-free space to about seven square feet, then goes to work screwing our umbrella into the ground.
That’s when I notice we’re setting up less than a foot from someone else. They’ve got an angled shade that blocks their view of us, so we’re not currently getting angry glares, but I’d like to avoid that happening. I turn to Fynn, intending to ask if we should scoot over, but the people on our other side are just as close. My stomach clenches. What if they’re irritated that we crammed into this spot? They might yell. Look at me like I’m an idiot. I’ve had enough of that in my life and I’m not interested in suffering through more.
Maybe we should move. Or better yet, maybe we should come back another day. I was really excited to finally dig my toes into the sand and feel the waves against my skin, but it can wait. It’s not a big deal. The ocean isn’t going anywhere. “Fynn, maybe we should—”
A head pops out from the tent-ish structure at my side. An older woman sporting a hat, sunglasses, and a thick layer of sunscreen looks me over before breaking out into a wide grin. She calls back over one shoulder, “Hey, Sharon. We’ve got neighbors.”
A second woman peeks out at me, the expression on her barely wrinkled face warm and friendly. “Well, aren't you a pretty thing.”
I’m not sure what to say so I settle for, “Thank you?” It sounds like a question and I inwardly cringe at my awkwardness. I came here to be my own person and it’s turning out I kind of suck at it.
“You look thirsty.” The first woman disappears behind the shade and comes back with a hard seltzer. She shoves the can into my hand with a wink. “Nothing better than an ice-cold White Claw on a hot day.” One slightly crooked thumb goes over her shoulder in the direction of the other woman. “That’s Sharon and I’m Sylvia.”
I smile, a little less worried over our close proximity. “I’m Val.”
Fynn finishes with the umbrella and drops down onto the towel next to me. Sharon’s penciled brows climb her forehead. “Well, hello there.”
He gives her a panty melting smile as his long fingers work the buttons of his shirt. “I see you’re making friends, Valerie.” He peels the linen fabric down his arms, baring his upper half.
I open my mouth but nothing comes out because the sight of shirtless Fynn has stupefied my brain. Last night he was wearing a pair of slacks and a button up with the cuffs rolled over his corded forearms, making it easy to tell he was in shape. Between that, the photos I saw of him online, and the runs he takes past my apartment every morning, I was for sure expecting a certain level of fitness.
But this…
This is just ridiculous.
Every inch of the man is defined, from the bulk of his broad shoulders to the cut of obliques dipping into the waistband of his trunks. His abs might as well be etched in freaking stone and even the scattering of hair across his pecs does nothing to hide how solid they are.
A bony stab pokes into my ribs, dragging my attention from Fynn to find Sylvia staring at me with wide eyes. She looks pointedly at my drink then back at my face.
Thank you, Sylvia. I probably shouldn’t stare at the man I’m hoping to rope into a sham wedding like he’s a piece of meat. At least I don’t think I should. My knowledge about the opposite sex is admittedly lacking. It took everything I had to hold it together last night in the bar and I’ve clearly used up any moves I might have accidentally had.
I crack the can open and swallow as many gulps as I can stand before the icy liquid starts to burn my throat. Sylvia’s grinning at me as I swipe across my lips. “Fuck yeah.” She holds her own can out. “To making new friends.”
I tap my can against hers and drink down the rest because I’m going to need some liquid courage. I’d convinced myself our gains in my proposed arrangement would be equal, but now that I’ve seen the body he’s got, I’m not so sure that’s the case.
Sylvia takes my empty before shoving another in my hand with a smile. She wiggles her brows at me. “We’ll let you two get situated.”
I panic a little when she and Sharon disappear, because now I’m alone with Fynn hot-as-hell Hadaway and all I have to work with is a pasty ass and too-big tits shoved into the demurest bikini the shop had. Based on their available selection, most of Sweet Side’s beachgoers prefer to wear tooth floss.
I take a deep breath and turn to find Fynn spreading sunscreen down his arms and across his perfect chest. My eyes follow every move he makes, imagining…
Filth. I’m imagining filth. Every bit of it involving him.
His blue eyes lift to mine and he holds the bottle my way. “Do my back?”
Holy Kelly Clarkson. He wants me to touch him.
I’ve never moved as fast as I do when I shove the base of my second drink into the sand, wedging it upright before turning to take the sunscreen. Fynn angles away from me, presenting me with the broadest back I’ve ever seen. I fumble the bottle, dropping it between us. He peeks my way over one shoulder. “Everything okay?”
