Page 88 of Ask Me Something

“What the hell kind of bikini is that?” he ground out.

I slipped my sunglasses down and eyed him. “Excuse me, this is a designer suit. You don’t like it?”

He sighed heavily. “It makes me want to throw you over my shoulder and carry you caveman style to the room and not come back out the whole damn week.”

My brow arched. “I’ll be sure to post that in my online review of the suit. We could’ve stayed indoors at your house for a week if that’s all you wanted to do. This is a vacation: pool, drinks, dinners, and your favorite: bikinis.” I heard him practically growl and smiled in response.

“Right. Vacation, where every other man gets to stare at your ass in that poor excuse for a bikini.”

I turned toward him. “I don’t give a shit about the other men. I bought this to look good for you because you said you were looking forward to seeing me in one. The best part about this week is that we don’t have to pretend that we’re not together in public, which means that you can lean over here, kiss me, and put your hand on my ass, letting everyone know just who gets to take it off of me later.”

His eyes darkened, and then he was taking my mouth in a scorching way, skimming his hands over my backside and squeezing possessively.

My cheeks flamed in embarrassment at the indecent display of public affection, but it also sent a thrill through me to feel this wanted.

He pulled away slowly and smoothed his thumb along my lower lip. “That makes me even hotter for you. Did you truly wear it for me?”

Nodding, I thought the satisfied grin he shared was well worth it.

“I’m a lucky man, then. Food is here,” he said, sitting back and accepting the tray full of nachos from the server.

“This is pretty amazing,” I remarked, snacking on nachos and sipping on my drink a few minutes later.

“It is, isn’t it? Have you ever done this kind of thing before?”

“Are you asking me something?”

“Yes, I guess I am. Have you ever vacationed with another man?”

“No, not really. I did an overnight thing for a wedding once, but that was definitely not a vacation. How about you? Any dom time in paradise?”

He rolled his eyes, evidently not enjoying my joke. “First of all, you have no idea what a real dominant would be like. Secondly, in answer to your question, no, I’ve never taken a woman, aside from my sister, on vacation with me.”

The fact that we were in new territory together, pleased me. But then I keyed in on his first statement.

“What do you mean I have no idea what a real dominant would be like?”

He smirked. “You read about it on the Internet. I like to be in control in the bedroom in a dominant way, but we definitely aren’t in a dom-sub relationship, Sasha. Not even close.”

I had read about it, and he wasn’t wrong. He might be bossy and take over with sex, but he definitely didn’t treat me like I was submissive. Which made me wonder about the other girls he’d been with.

“I’m glad I’m here with you,” he murmured, kissing my hand.

“Right back at you.”

* * *

We walkedhand in hand on our way to dinner. Wearing a little black dress that showed off my legs, I enjoyed the way that Brian looked in his linen pants and a light blue, button-down shirt. Thus far, I’d answered some emails late this afternoon but then had been able to turn work back off. As he had during our time in the islands for the wedding, Brian seemed to distract me from my normal obsession with my job. The result was I felt more relaxed than—well—ever. We took our seats at dinner. Although I would put the number of meals we’d shared throughout the years in triple digits, I could practically feel the air sizzle when he took my hand over the table and kissed the inside of my wrist.

“You look very sexy this evening,” he commented in that low tone that made me quiver in expectation.

“You look very good yourself. I like that color of blue on you.”

He found my compliment amusing. “Does this feel like a date?”

“Considering I’m comfortable and enjoying myself, uh, no.”

He threw his head back and laughed, then leaned over. “I wonder. Do you put out on the first date?”

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