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My fingers dig into his hair and the sight before me steals not only my oxygen, but my need for it.
The skyline of Hollywood, Sunset, and the surrounding streets, stretching to the ocean.
My rebel prince. His hand—the one dark with ink, with roses and swirls—traces up the inside of my thigh, higher and higher, as he devours me.
Heat rolls over me in a consuming wave. It’s not the sun or the balmy air, but Tyler’s relentless mouth lighting fires in every nerve.
I want to take this slowly, but I’m too overwhelmed. My heart and my body feed off each other, off him, and when he sucks right above where his fingers are playing, I break apart like a wave on the shore.
It’s not enough. Nowhere near.
When I come down from the climax, I shift forward, reaching for the button on his jeans.
But Tyler bats my hand away.
“Later.” His raspy voice is a promise. “We have plans after you’re done with my ex-best friend.”
“You want me to wait,” I echo, already aware of the emptiness between my thighs now that his fingers have gone.
A smile ghosts across his face as he reaches for the strings on my bikini bottoms, fastening one side, then the other.
“This pout.” His lips brush over mine, and I can taste myself on his tongue. “I forgot how much I missed it.”
“You could reacquaint yourself with it now.” It’s shameless. I don’t even care. In fact, I think I’ve won when he traces the outline of my mouth with a calloused fingertip.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, the eyes I love burning with arousal and cockiness. “I will fuck every inch of this. And you.”
He hauls himself out of the water, leaving me gawking at his dripping body.
I’m already thinking about begging him to come back and finish what we started when the phone alarm goes off.
