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"Love to hear it."
"We should spend the next two weeks together, doing anything and everything that's fun and frivolous. No talk of work. No more serious conversations. We enjoy each other's company, that's all, and then we say goodbye if that's what we want. No strings, except on your bikini."
"I'd love a two-week escape from real life."
"So would I. Should we do it, then?"
"Absolutely."
He kisses the top of my head. "Wonderful. Let's start right now, by taking a walk down the beach."
"Sounds perfect."
Richard gets up, picking me up with him, and sets my feet on the sand. Hand in hand, we stroll down the shore with crystal-clear blue water on one side and swaying palm trees on the other. I'd kicked off my shoes and left them on our blanket, so I revel in the warmth of the sand slipping between my toes and sliding along my soles.
He keeps watching me—or rather, glancing at my belly region. Lower belly. Maybe he's staring at my hips. Whatever's caught his attention, it's kind of weird.
Suddenly, he stops us and turns toward me. "Christ, I'm an arse."
"What? Not sure where that comment came from. You're a complete gentleman."
"No, I am not." He nods toward my lower body. "You keep wincing and touching your hip like it hurts. But it's not your hip, is it? I ravaged you for hours last night. You're sore."
Okay, yeah, I am. It's not awful, though, and I'm no wimp when it comes to pain. But the stricken look on his face proves to me that he thinks he's damaged me severely.
I spread a palm over his cheek. "Relax, I'm okay. Sure, that was more sex than I've had in a long time, maybe ever, but I'm only a little sore. I'll be fine, promise."
"But I should have known better than to…abuse your body that way."
"There was no abusing. I could've said no after the second time, or the third time, but I loved being with you. A little soreness is worth it."
He rubs the back of his neck, veering his gaze away from mine. "Maybe you aren't horribly sore, but I still think we shouldn't have sex again for a while."
"I'll be good to go tomorrow."
"I believe you, but let's try not shagging for a few days at least, maybe even a week. We can take this time to enjoy each other's company without the distraction of sex." His lips twitch into a slight smirk. "I may need a blindfold to accomplish that, though. Your body is the most distracting thing I've ever seen—or felt."
"Would you rather I wear baggy pants and bulky sweaters?"
"No." He starts walking again, still holding my hand. "I'll manage in spite of your distractingly gorgeous body."
"Not sure I can restrain myself if you're wearing skintight swim briefs." I'm not joking. His bod in that swimsuit… Damn, it's like the scent of fresh donuts wafting out of a bakery down the street. I want to run there, grab all the donuts, and gorge myself on them. His "donut" is hidden inside a single layer of spandex. And yes, I want to pull it out and feast on him. Which gives me an idea. "During our escape-from-real-life thing, is oral sex allowed?"
He chuckles. "Determined, aren't you? I can't be so amazing in bed that the thought of doing without gives you withdrawal symptoms."
"Just trying to make sure we have the best possible time for the next two weeks."
"Let's try not talking about sex for at least an hour. See how it goes."
"All right, if you insist." I bump into him on purpose and give him a teasing smile. "But you're the insatiable beast who seduced me over and over."
"I know, but I'm giving this my best effort." He lets go of my hand, draping his arm around me. "How about a swim? The cool water might ease your soreness."
"What a fantastic idea. Skinny dipping?"
"Didn't you hear what I said about your body? I won't survive two minutes with you naked in the water."
"My bikini is skimpy. I'm practically naked already."
